I was supposed to meet up with Jami and Katya, two other volunteers along with a few little dogs from the shelter at a vet's office in Los Angeles. There, Skippy and the others would get their health certificates needed to travel, and then Jami would transport them to LAX where they get on a flight for Vancouver.
Jami was already there when I arrived, but Katya was still at the shelter waiting in line to get the dogs. Skippy hung out with me in the truck on the street, hoping that by the time Katya arrived a parking spot in the vet's lot would open up. In the half hour wait, it did. Parked closer to Jami, we got out and headed inside to at least wait to see the vet since we were already past our scheduled appointment.
I ended up taking Skippy in while Jami went back out to the parking lot to help Katya with the three dogs she was bringing in. When I returned to the exam room with Skippy after getting him weighed, Jami, Katya, and three tiny dogs were in there. The vet looked a little surprised since the only one on her paper to get a cert was Skippy. Katya explained them all quickly:
The one in her arms looked to me to be a purebred black and tan miniature pincher. A neighbor of hers found him; or actually the dog found her. She opened her door and found him on her stoop. They put up flyers, sent out emails, tried to find who this boy belonged to, but no one came forward. So, after the legal week-long wait, he was headed to Vancouver to be re-homed.
On a leash was a tiny all black...well, dog. I have no idea what sort of dog he was. Pointy ears, probably Chihuahua something, named Romeo. He was from the shelter and just needed a health certificate.
And finally there was a tan pug/Chihuahua mix who was not terribly happy (or maybe his face just looks like that). The vet asked for his name to create a chart and Katya quickly said, "Um, let's call him Mr. Darcy. I like that. It's fitting."
"Okay, Darcy," the vet tech responded.
"Mister Darcy," Katya corrected. "Can we make it Mr. Darcy? I like literary references."
Mr. Darcy was indeed a bit belligerent and mean, but not without cause. He had been attacked and was brought into the shelter with bite marks on him. Naturally, he isn't the most trusting animal on the planet.
Meanwhile, Skippy was still getting over the trauma of having a thermometer shoved up his ass, which he did not take to kindly, and was whining to me, pleading to get out of the room. I asked him to calm down for a bit, and although he never fully relaxed, I think we did pretty well for four (five when another vet tech came in) humans, and four dogs of varying sizes and personality in a hundred square foot room with the door closed.
All dogs checked out, Jami waited for the bills and health certificates to be written up, and Katya and I headed back outside to the cars with the four dogs to build the crates. Skippy's was the only one already built in the back of Jami's car. But the other three tiny ones needed to be assembled, the dogs needed to be in them, and Jami still had to get to LAX all in less than two hours.
It was down-pouring outside. Skippy let me know how much he hated rain earlier in the morning, so I knew he wasn't going to be happy. Romeo was so tiny that he was completely soaked after only seven raindrops hit him. Katya carried her black and tan miniature pincher in her arms and let Mr. Darcy lead the way. He had gotten out of the collar and having tried to bite already, a leash had to be transformed into a slip-lead so he wouldn't get away.
Skippy was all too happy to be back inside my truck, but perplexed when I walked away with Romeo, leaving him to sit alone. Katya put her stray in Jami's car, and that left Mr. Darcy and Romeo. We found a little inlet on the side of the building adjacent to the vet's office. It was an entrance way to a non-named business. A security guard didn't seem to want us there, and Katya broke out her fluent Spanish and explained that we just needed a place to quickly put together three crates and then we'd be on our way. He let us stay.
I held Mr. Dracy's slip lead so he wouldn't get away along with Romeo's leash while Katya started to frantically build a crate. She looked up and around and said, "What is this place?"
"Um..." was all I said since the security guard was within earshot, and simply pointed to the wooden box on the wall labeled "CONDOMS", and an enormous detailed sign about the dangers of unprotected sex with strangers. And then we heard the music from around the corner and she just sighed with, "Great."
Once the first crate was built, we put Mr. Darcy in it so I was free to also build a crate. We apologized to every man that walked by that was surprised to see two women crouched down on the floor building dog creates in the entrance to his club. Katya had already had a not-so-great day at the shelter and appeared to be emotionally spent. When Jami returned and found us there, Katya said, "And now I'm building dog crates in the entrance to a gay sex club. Could this day get any worse?"
I shrugged. I didn't see a problem with it. I mean, as a single woman in this area of town, I'm guessing the safest place to be is the entrance to a gay sex club. Certainly no one there wants anything to do with us, least of all to harm us in some way. "Okay, it is kind of funny," Katya finally admitted.
The rain let up and the sun shone for a brief time, so we exited the alcove. Jami needed to take Romeo back in because of a typo on one of his papers that could lead to him not making it to Canada. Katya and I arranged the crates and dogs, and everything was set when Jami returned.
Skippy would travel shotgun with Jami in the car since it was easier to get him in the crate once they arrived, rather than putting him in it and then having to heave it back into and then out of the back of her car.
The time had come. I brought Skippy over to Jami's car. He willingly hopped in, the seat being far lower to the ground than my truck. I gave him a hug good-bye, and I was going to be perfectly fine until I heard Katya say, "It's always hard to say good-bye." Damn it! I sniffed back in the tears I felt about to break through and smiled at Skippy. I kissed him on the head, told him how much fun I had with him, and then closed the door.
As I watched Jami drive away with Skippy sitting so calmly in the passenger seat, I was at peace with it. He didn't have adopters lined up anymore, but he did have a foster home. By midnight he would be in a country I've never been to, hopefully all snuggled up with his new foster mom.
Katya said, "You'll always be one his moms."
Really?!?! This woman really knew how to get my water-works going. I was having a hard enough time keeping it together; the sentiments, although true and heart-warming, were not really necessary.
I will always be one of his moms, she is correct. And I didn't feel like I was betraying him by sending him on his way. I couldn't do anything more for him. He was on his way to Canada, to another person who will help him on the next leg of his quest. My mission was complete, although Skip's journey wasn't over quite yet. He still was on his way home, but my portion of his journey was over. And this time, I was okay with that.
Because that's what fosters do. That's what transporters do. We're just a piece of the puzzle, contributing our little part to the big picture. Skippy could have been in boarding all week, but instead I chose to let him stay with me. It saved the rescue a few bucks, gave me some entertainment and purpose, and hopefully it made this portion of Skippy's journey just a little better.
Thank you, Skip, for a very fun week. I wish you the best, and hope you didn't freak out too much on the flight. And to all those in Vancouver, a wacky American dog just arrived that is looking for his life-long partner and family. He might have a high-pitched play bark, but he's a pretty good pup. He's charming, he's smart, and he's got a million dollar smile.
I'll post his ad once it gets up (and who knows, maybe he won't even need one; maybe someone at the airport will fall in love with him on the spot). But in the mean time, contact the rescue if you're interested:
http://www.penniesfordogs.org/
Good luck, Skip. (And don’t let any Canadian canines hump your head. If they're as nice as all the people in Canada are reported to be, I'm sure they won't even try).
You did a good thing, and Skip is AWESOME - he'll find the right humans soon. Well done!
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