Someone who saw the flyer called to say she needed a dog, and she had a lot of room in her basement. I said, "You can't keep her in a basement, she'll be miserable, she'll bark all day - she needs to live with your family." To which the person replied, "Oh, she's a family dog?" - the way you'd say, "Oh, you have three heads?"
At work, that became the catch-all phrase for bad dog-parenting and bad dog adoptions: "Ohhh, she's a family dog?"
A month went by. We managed.
A co-worker (not someone I knew, someone from a different shift) wanted Puppy. After much discussion, Second Foster Mom came uptown and took Puppy away. I cried.
It didn't work out.
SFM's husband didn't really want a dog, and he wasn't patient enough for a pup. Puppy needed more house-training, and the family wasn't home enough to be consistent. It was a classic illustration of why so many dogs end up homeless.
I was ready to take Puppy back and continue our search, when SFM struck gold. A family who had recently lost a beloved dog and was on their way to a shelter to adopt a new one - a great sign - saw the flyer. We were told that when they went to SFM's house, Puppy was going nuts, running around like a maniac with SFM's son's friends. New Family saw Puppy at her worst, but fell in love. New Family renamed her "Maggie", and took her home.
Despite my best efforts, I never heard from anyone about Puppy/Maggie again. New Family was experienced with dogs, and with rescues, so I was hopeful. But I never knew for sure.
Here's the last thing I heard about Puppy. New Family's mom was a little person - a dwarf. Dad was a regular sized guy. Puppy slept in their bed, in the space below Mom, next to Dad's legs.
I hope she had a good life.
* * * *
Here are Clyde and Puppy watching squirrels in the nearby parkette. Clyde is the black and white one. They were almost the exact same size.
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