A rough month. I know it’s not a sentence, but it is what it is. A break from the madness into another madness. This is my life. My emasculation was completed Wednesday, August 1, when by spousal mandate I returned the Dude to the shelter from whence he came. The debate was over something about what evil he was capable of doing to our new child, our close friend’s children, and a plethora of deliverymen. Not one to put supertight canine-human connection above human paternal responsibilities, I relegated the Dude to a shelter in Fillmore, where we got him. It was the most difficult action I have ever undertaken; it was really tough. But it’s done, and I must move on. Posts to come; I’m climbing back up on it.
4 comments:
My goodness. I'm so sorry about Dude. You're welcome to take Bella & Kingston for a walk anytime you like :)
Thanks B. Do I have to pick up the poop too? Because I don't miss that...
I couldn't imagine what we would do without the dogs, now down to one after so many years.
It would be a tough thing to have to let go, especially back to a shelter.
Maybe in a few years?
Seriously, I meant what I said over on the other blog... Im sorry, and as a dog lover, it kinda sucks.
I appreciate your kind comments. It's been a little over three weeks and I still mistakenly arrive home thinking the Dude will be right there at the door waiting to greet me and hop in the car to hit Elings for his daily romp with his buddies. I even thought of him this morning when I woke up. How did he wake up? Probably on the floor of a dusty dog run where he slept outside, thinking to himself, "when's my buddy coming back to pick me up?" When I got to work this morning I thought to check the shelter website to see if he was still there but they've pulled his profile, meaning somebody adopted him. I hope he's as happy where he is now as he was when he lived with us for three years. Cheers to the Dude.
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