Since we've come to the conclusion of week 3 of Tia's stay here at Casa de Canine, I thought we finally got ourselves into a groove with a schedule. Granted it started later than I wanted to each day, but it was a schedule: first walk between 7:30 and 9:00am, shower, breakfast, next walk between 1 and 3, evening walk between 5 and 6, then supper, then a final nighttime pee break between 10:30 and 11:30pm.
I could even leave for an hour or hour and half to go grocery shopping. I at times would find Tia exactly where I left her, but other than that, all was well. It had gotten to a point where I wasn't devoting my entire day to Tia, but rather I was getting work done again and having a relatively normal life. But perhaps that's where Tia didn't like the way the relationship was going.
In every relationship, one settles in, and doesn't devote so much time to one another. They start not going out into the world so often, instead choosing to watch TV in their PJ's. There's no more romantic dinners, just microwaved platters eaten alone. They start farting in front of one another. Stop shaving. Start wearing the worn underwear again. Stop trying to make the other one smile. Since I settled into a routine, Tia has abandoned her care of whether or not she does as I please. In fact, one might say, it could be a bit spiteful.
This past week, I did as I had done before: I told Tia to back away from the door, and stay and that I'd be right back. She sits so nicely, I wonder if indeed she does sit right there while I'm gone. An hour later, I returned to see my Lady stuffed animal on the floor, it's battery box yanked out. It wasn't destroyed; just investigated. It was, however, within nose-reach of the door, so perhaps in her boredom of sitting right there, she grabbed it to have a look.
Sunday morning I had a baby shower to attend, so I left Tia for the longest period of time I have left her: two and a half hours. I had put the TV on for her, she had plenty of toys, and since it was only 11am, I suspected (and hoped) she'd be having her mid-morning nap during this time. I was wrong.
I returned to find items I didn't even know I had, destroyed. I wish I had a camera recording her at the time of the destruction, since it wasn't like she went all out on the couch pillows, or gnawing on a table leg. It was the delicate items, the things that her large pittie jaws would have a difficult time picking up, that were now in numerous pieces on the floor.
I had a ziplock bag (yes, HAD, at this point) with a concert ticket and some earplugs in it, a memento from long ago. That bag is mostly in Tia's digestive track, I imagine. The earplugs were torn in two, and the ticket was slobbered on, but whole. The book of matches that were behind that (I forgot those were there, and don't recollect why they were there), was torn to shreds, and I wondered what the physical ramifications were of a dog eating matches. A figurine was on the ground as well, broken in two. One audio tape, not in a case, was investigated, and the magnetic tape delicately pulled out of the plastic case. All these items were within nose-reach of the door, on the bottom shelf by my stereo.
Finally, the corner of the bookshelf itself: perhaps Tia found the corner too sharp for she rounded it off with her giant jaws.
She could have toppled the stereo, eaten the stereo wires, torn to shreds one of the three stuffed animals on the floor, chewed on the coffeetable, ripped the couch pillows to pieces. But instead, she chose what was within reach of where she sat and nibbled on it all. Too lazy to get up, but determined enough to pick such interesting items.
This morning, when I returned from an hour long errand, again in that very same spot, there was this:
A small keepsake I had forgotten was on that bottom shelf. Oh a philosophical level, I don't know what implications are involved when you destroy a totem pole. On a practical level, I can tell you this item once had two wings... and Tia's going to discover it was whole lot more pleasant getting those wings into her body than it's going to be getting them out. Meanwhile, not a single one of her toys was in a different location from when I left.
I do wonder if she understands the words I speak. Not to her, but to others, when I say that I want to find her a home, and that she's up for adoption. Maybe she wants to self-sabotage, make it seem like it was her fault that I'm getting rid of her. The trouble seemed to begin the day I took her to meet her potential new foster mom. It went well, and I was supposed to bring her today.
However, that fell through at the last minute. So the "bad dog" gets to stay with me.
We spent yesterday afternoon at an adoption fair in Sherman Oaks. Poor Tia wanted to play with every single dog there. I had to keep her away from others not because she's a vicious killer, but because she's a non-stop player. She just can't take a break. So instead, she sat in the middle of the fair, whining and crying about not being able to play with the dogs that walked by.
It was a bust. Only one family was interested, but the Mom had veto power. However, half an hour later, as Tia and I were lounging out in another area of the park with a friend, we had our first real interest. A guy who was playing catch with his son kept looking over at Tia, perhaps trying to read her bandana that demanded, "ADOPT ME." Finally, just as we were about to get up and leave, my friend said to him, "She's up for adoption. If you're interested."
He came right over and promptly fell in love. His wife and other son seemed into Tia as well. They were kind people. He had recently lost his pit bull to cancer, and he said he still had the Harley Davidson collar, and all the toys. He was still grieving, but Tia was so pretty, and so wonderful, maybe he could do it.
I gave them my info, gave them an application, and told them to go home and fill out the application, and get it back to me. They lived in Simi Valley, a good distance away, so I'm hoping to get the application back soon, and arrange a homecheck. Tia looked like she belonged with that family.
But I can't get my hopes up. We have two other interested parties via the internet, but with no official application, it's only a longshot. The reason people like to adopt from rescues, and not from the shelter, is because when a dog is being fostered, we get to know them better. We get to know if they're housetrained, what sort of toys they like, if they're good with other animals. I want to be able to continue saying Tia is as fantastic as the day I got her, but she's changing over time. I do wonder if hormones have anything to do with it: a large hormone-producing organ was recently removed from her body.
Or perhaps, she knows that I am indeed just a pitstop on her journey. She doesn't snuggle as closely anymore, choosing to have her own space in the bed. She doesn't wait just outside the bathroom door anymore. And she doesn't need to watch me prepare every meal in the kitchen. Perhaps she knows that this little adventure is indeed short-lived and she doesn't want to remember the good times. She's making the break before the break happens.
I do believe that Tia is a Good Dog, although not My Dog. I don't think there is a My Dog. But there are a lot of Good Dogs out there. I just want Tia to find the home every Good Dog deserves. The sooner she does, the sooner I can open my home again to other Good Dogs on their journeys if they need it. I'm not kicking the girl out; but I do wish she would stop creating such collateral damage. It's not like a bad break-up for goodness sake. I'm just the transitional person, and Tia is ready to meet "the One."
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