Day 64: Life Decisions

I have been an anxious mess for the past 24 hours, ever since making the plan to go meet the rescue pup, Dusty. My insides are on fire. First, I was worried about logistics, like finding my way to the foster mother’s house. And then all the rest: should I even be looking at a dog if I’m not positive it’s a good idea. Although in all honesty, I have to say that when I was newly pregnant with both daughters, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d made such a logical choice then, either. Imagine my life if my decisions had been ruled by sense and reason. Some of the best stuff I’ve done falls well outside that realm.

So I spent the morning pacing, pacing, pacing because I was too hyped up to concentrate on much. Finally, with Elana joining me for company and a second opinion, we headed off to Rio Vista, where I met Dusty. All photos courtesy of Elana.

You can see in the picture above that she’s a little hesitant about coming to me for this first meeting, but her ears aren’t back and her tail isn’t tucked. That’s a good sign, isn’t it, Eleni?

As you can see, she was lactating when they found her. She was just spayed on Saturday, and she’s so relaxed that she doesn’t even have to wear the cone of shame to keep her from worrying her incision. I wonder what became of her puppies. And I wonder if dogs experience a sense of loss in a case like this. I shouldn’t anthropomorphize, but dogs definitely have giant hearts, and memories.

Her ears have character. She’s really just a wee thing, small for a Lab/German Shepherd cross. Her original description online said she was 2.75 years old, but the foster ma said she’s only one, and proceeded to stick her hands in Dusty’s mouth to show me Dusty’s gorgeous white teeth, which Dusty tolerated very well.

It was endearing when she stuck her head under my arm.

Elana and I and the foster mom, Kendall, sat on the concrete patio and watched the dog, while Kendall filled me in on what she knew. She told me that Dusty is calm inside the house, not food- or toy-aggressive, and housebroken. She doesn’t wake up too early. And a bunch of other things. As I listened, I took my glasses off and put them by my side on the ground. The next thing I knew, Dusty had oh-so-delicately picked them up with her little lips, and slowly started to walk away, with them held so gently in her mouth. She didn’t seem to mind when I took them back.

As Dusty and I said goodbye, I put my head down by her snout, and she gave me a big wet lick on my right eye. Considering that only three days ago, she wouldn’t socialize with humans because of her trauma, I was actually touched.

I vacillate between utter terror and a calm resolve that this is the right choice. I look to friends for guidance, but they’re too smart to offer it. It’s my decision alone and no one can help me.

HELLLLP ME.