The Price of Success?

Riley, an almost senior dog, was adopted!

My least favorite part of rescue work is placing an animal I am attached to in a new home. Of course I know it's the best thing for them; that doing so makes room for another animal who may otherwise die in a kill-shelter; that I definitely cannot keep every animal I love, and that it is my duty to do this very thing. Logically, this little machine we have built is running just as it should. We are saving dogs and cats, caring for them well and finding them wonderful homes. Emotionally, however, I am finding myself in need of a tune-up.

What I did not consider when I started my own rescue is how many adoptions I would be doing! When I was with another rescue group, the animals in my home were just a few of the total number of animals in the organization. But now, with all our animals under my care, every application for an adoption comes directly to me; every animal that leaves Almost Home for a new life and forever family is a goodbye that must be endured. I get to do all the celebrating, but also get to do all the grieving.

Shiloh found her forever home!

This week has proven particularly wonderful, perplexing and difficult all at the same time. Our pet listings finally went public (meaning all legal paperwork is now in order enough to qualify to reach millions via pet adoption websites). In just the first few days of going public, my mailbox filled with applications. In the last few days, two of my hard-to-place dogs have found their forever homes, two adoptions are pending and another is in the works. This is remarkable and I am thrilled, but also finding the whole experience emotionally exhausting. It has always taken me a couple days to recover from each adoption. Now, I am finding myself without time to come up for air between them. I don't know if the current rate of adoptions from Almost Home is a trend that will continue, is related to the season or is just a fluke. And, I am certainly not complaining about what it means for our critters. I began this project with the worry that keeping our rescue small would fail to make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, but five adoptions per week certainly puts those concerns to rest.

Riley with his new Mommy before leaving our shelter!

So, I am adjusting. When I began rescuing animals, I told myself that if the time ever came when I wasn't sad saying goodbye, I needed to evaluate why because I did not want the experience to harden me. I am grateful my job has not become rote; that my heart is as open as it was when I began, as that means my animals are receiving what they need from me while in my care. And, as I am saying goodbye to an animal I have loved, however briefly, I am content in knowing I did so with my whole heart.

Dumped

We took the back roads home from a late night trip to the store last night. At night-time, with no streetlights on narrow gravel roads, it's a bit of a creepy drive through thick wooded areas separated by barren fields and cow pastures. Because of this, my daughter and I immediately noticed when an oncoming car turned onto the road we were about to turn on and abruptly stopped. When their interior light came on, we could see the silhouette of an opening car door. Not wanting to encounter someone in the middle of nowhere at night, we were both relieved when the door closed and the car slowly pulled away.

But as I made the turn onto the same road, we immediately saw why the car had stopped. Running in frantic circles, in the middle of the road, was what looked to be a small Rottweiler mix. We figured the other car had perhaps tried to help this dog but couldn't catch him, so I was surprised when he ran right up to me when I called. He leaped into my back seat. It was only when I began to pet him that I realized what we had just witnessed. Though it was 30 degrees out, his fur was nice and warm. The poor baby, who looked to be maybe eight or nine months old, had just been dumped by his family.

A mix of sadness for this sweet boy and fury for the horrible people who'd just thrown him out like trash flooded my senses. My attention shifted to the road ahead, where I saw the dumpers had stopped to watch us. When I got back in the driver's seat, they sped off, throwing gravel up in their quick exit. We never caught up with them.

Fortunately, we have space for him on our shelter. I'd just set up a kennel for a former foster dog that is, unfortunately, coming back, so I got our new boy settled in with fresh blankets, new toys, cold water and a bowl of food. After he settled in a bit, the two of us hung out in the lobby, where he met the resident cats, showed me his tennis ball skills, gobbled up some canned food with de-wormer hidden in it and let me apply flea medication.

I have rescued many dumped dogs in my years doing this. I have never, ever understood how someone can just abandon their pet in the middle of a road. The idea sickens me, but to be witness to it in action adds a whole new level of disgust.

And this is how it goes in rescue. Just when you are filled to the brim and barely have room and resources for more, an animal that needs you desperately comes along. You have to figure a way to make it work because the finger of responsibility points at you.

Don't worry, little buddy, you're almost home.