Sunday, June 6, 2010

Mission Accomplished

Bringing Noelle back on last Sunday was harder than I thought it would be.  I'm used to feeling that I've completed something when the dog leaves me; either they go to another foster, a forever home, or board a plane to Canada.  But with Noelle, I was simply brining her back from whence she came.

Saturday night at bedtime, I took my handy-dandy couch cover and placed it over my bedspread and told Noelle it was time for bed.  She hopped right up, lay down all wiggly and happy, and then jumped back off and headed for the living room.  When I got out of the bathroom, I came back to find my bedroom had abandoned and Noelle curled up in my spot on the couch.

"Hey," I said to her in the dark room.  "Come on. Time for bed."


She looked up at me and I heard two thwaps of the tail on the couch:  "No, I like it here, thank you."


I walked into the living room and she didn't move, just looked up shyly at me while I tried explaining that she couldn't sleep in the living room for the evening; she had to be in the bedroom.  I don't believe I've had to repeat myself quite so often to any other dog to convince her that a bed is just a much bigger--and much more comfortable--couch, so she should give it a try.

Then again, this is a dog who has been in boarding since December of 2009.  Night time for her is in the dark, by herself.  Not with a human.  So I suppose she just didn't get what I was proposing.

When I finally convinced her to come into the bedroom and I shut the door, she leaped onto the bed and then stood in confusion on what to do.  I lay down and tried to get her to do so but she couldn't get comfortable.  What seemed an eternity later (but was probably only eight minutes), she flopped down, stretched out like a pit bull, taking up as much space as possible, and used my thigh as a pillow for her head.

Since it had taken her so long to get comfortable, I didn't want to move.  So despite the slightly awkward position I was in, I only shifted slightly to make myself a little more comfortable and fell asleep.

Noelle slept through the night, and in fact at 8am, she was still happy to be sleeping, not the least bit interested in getting out of bed.  If I wanted to get a good long walk in for her, though, we had to get outside soon before the heat of the day hit.  The moment I put two feet on the floor, she was up, her shy wags wishing me a good morning, and then she was off the bed and ready to go outside.

We had a nice calm walk, but all the while I couldn't think of how and when to bring her back.  She wasn't going to a "better place".  And yet, I had to convince myself that my job was complete.  The fact that she was such an easy dog, a great office dog in fact, is what made me hesitate.  Why couldn't I allow her a week vacation from boarding?  But then what would make me stop at only a week?


I had said, "Yes" to the walk, the day, and the night, but something held me back from just saying "Yes" to the whole week or beyond.  I like to leave myself open to emergency cases.  I like to be available in a crunch time--like when a dog needs somewhere to go or she'll be euthanized that afternoon.  This dog wasn't in danger.  My job, my role, was to provide a little vacation from the kennels and to introduce her to potential new family.  So with a heavy heart I brought her back early in the afternoon, and hoped she got to spend the rest of the day in the wading pool at the kennels.

I checked in with Candace on Thursday, and as I suspected the home check worked out.  Noelle is still in boarding at the moment (or she might have gotten out today), waiting for her scheduled appointment with the trainer to deliver her to her forever home.

I did my duty, performed my task.  My job is done.  Would it have all worked out had I not said "Yes" last week?  Probably.  Eventually in time, yes, I'd like to believe it would.  But perhaps my involvement helped push it along just a little bit.  So maybe I had accomplished something after all.  I gave Noelle a tiny taste of what her life to come will be.  I got to introduce her to the people she will be with for the rest of her life.  And I hope the rest of her life starts as soon as possible.

If you are in the LA area and want to spend some time with dogs needing a break from boarding, please contact the Heigl Foundation:

http://www.jasonheiglfoundation.org/Date.html

People ask me how I can be with these dogs for a day or two, and then just say goodbye to them.  It's not easy with many of them, trust me.  I do get attached at times.  But I also accept that I'm just a moment in their life journey.  They're on their way some place far better than with me, but they meet me for one reason or another--to de-stress after being in the shelter, to learn a few manners, to have a place to crash for a night or two on the long journey home.



I saw a  friend of mine who I hadn't seen in about a year a few weeks ago.  Her little Boston Terrier named LaRouge followed her outside the gate to her house, and was distracted by a kid on a bike.  She sniffed him, and then turned and saw me walking up the alleyway.  I had never seen a dog who actually remembered me, but it was quite clear LaRouge was simply overjoyed at seeing me again.  She sprinted down the alley toward me, her speed only reduced by tail wags that took over her entire body.  And when she finally met me (totally in disobedience of her mother yelling, "La Rouge!  Get back here!", she snuffled and licked and jumped and was so overtaken with excitement I think she forgot to breathe.

If LaRouge can remember our hikes from a year ago, I'm sure these dogs remember their time with me as well.  And I hope they'd be just as overjoyed to see me again as LaRouge was.  When I was little my dream was to grow up and have an Animal Inn.  So when a wayward canine comes to stay with me, or I give him a lift somewhere, I can't forget that I really am living my dream.  It's not acres of kennels; it's one dog, one home.  And giving an animal a moment of peace, a moment of joy, a time of relaxation is worth a little heartache every now and again when I have to say goodbye.  I'm their vacation tour guide, their transitional person, the one who allows them to just be themselves even for a few moments with no expectations.  I allow them to find themselves again and be who they really are.  I can only hope they take those experiences with them.  And if I believe they do, then I can never fail; every dog who passes through my home and my heart IS an accomplishment.



Congratulations, Noelle.  May you have many happy years with your new family, and I feel blessed to have been part of your journey to get there.