I never really anticipated being the Crazy Dog Lady – I mean, it was never my intention at least. For 5 years I had been the obsessed owner of a sweet (albeit terrified of her own shadow) pit-bull, Bella and she was enough. But that changed the day my friend and co-worker Erin called and told me she had a mission for us.
A little wary and a lot busy, I was cautious when I asked her what this mission would be, but instead of telling me, up popped a picture of two cute little pups who were absolutely filthy and way too skinny. “We have to save these dogs, Rach, they are living outside the mission and don’t have any food or water. I can’t take it anymore.”
A little bit of wheeling and dealing later…okay fine, we actually bought the dogs off the homeless people who were “tending” to them (please don’t tell my boss)…we had two dogs on our hands in lots of need. Within 24 hours we’d washed, dried, fed (and fed and fed), gotten check-ups, shots, de-wormed (oh my gosh barf) and made appointments for our little homeless girls to get spayed and microchipped, all with the intention of adopting them out once we knew they were healthy.
As it turns out however, you have to be really, really strong to do that and oh my gosh, you can’t name them and if you do name them, you can’t pick the name you have always loved, Scout to pay homage to your favorite book, because that’s just dumb and you will obviously become attached.
And as you can probably guess, that was the week I became a 2-dog owner. (And Erin became a new dog owner.)
The thing is, this little girl is special. I’ve rescued quite a few dogs in my day (once while on a date. I know, I know, WEIRDO), but she was different. As I assume you all know, ‘cause duh I write this blog, I tend to root for the underdog. (get it?) My heart aches when I see someone or something with a need that I can fill and this little 4 legged creature was no different. In my heart, she is a survivor. She’s not all that big, but managed to take on the streets of Skid Row for the first year of her life and lived – that’s no small feat. I’m fairly certain I couldn’t say the same for myself if ever in that position. I couldn’t resist her, so she settled in to live with me and in fact, for the first few months, things were great. That is, until they weren’t.
It started kind of subtly, my two pups would get in riffs here and there, but whatever, they’re dogs, YOLO, right? But one thing led to another to another and now here I am, looking for a new home for my little girl. A home where she is the only pup, as it turns out (thanks to lots of hours and money training her), although she loooooves the attention of people, her life on the streets left her little heart scarred and scared, which leads her to want to defend herself when she feels threatened by other k-9’s.
My heart is broken.
In a million pieces.
Who knew 20 pounds could take me out like this?
Honestly though, I don’t think she is much different than me. I too, have a tendency to want to lash out when I am scared and vulnerable, only usually mine comes out more in cutting words and emotional actions and less by showing my teeth, growling and scrapping. Maybe there’s a case study there for you, sociologists.
So today, as I continue to house homeless people by day, I search, hunt and cry for a home for this little lady. A home where she will be loved and adored, where she will inevitably, in return, love and adore her owners. A home where she can be free to relax, cuddle and play, instead of looking over her shoulder in fear of other Benji wannabe’s.
If you think you might be or know someone who might be the keeper of this home, send them my way, wouldja? I can promise you a couple things if you do; I will be eternally grateful, I may show up at your doorstep on more than one occasion and you will be super loved by a sweet little ball of fur with a ridiculous waddle.