"Because they're trying so hard. You can see their desperation," she replied.
Perhaps the desperation is just easier to spot in the open peacefulness of the park, whereas in the steel and concrete kennels, the sadness just melds together into one big sad ocean. For me, the adoption fair isn't depressing, but it is an interesting endeavor.
Christy had pulled a Shih Tzu mix named Marley a few weeks ago. Marley was staying with a temp foster--someone much like me who contends that we don't foster indefinitely, but rather we let them sleepover until their ride comes through. She had to leave town for work, and it being Mother's Day, few people were available to take the little dog to the adoption fair. I didn't mind spending an early afternoon in the park, so I said I would take her.
Marley's initial reaction to me was to bark incessantly. Once in the car, she settled in for the short drive to the park.
And at the park, she walked to the end of the leash and lay down, trying as hard as possible to not be seen with me.
Evidently, I was an embarrassment.
Marley got plenty of compliments. She is a cute little dog, reminding me of a Muppet (and I mean that in the sweetest way possible), but no one was interested in getting to know her beyond that. Christy said that the main problem was her height. Yes, all fifteen inches of her height. Shih Tzu's are squat little things, low-riders. But whatever Marley's other half of the parental equation was, it wasn't a short, squat animal, but a tall lanky one. Even still, she weighed in at nineteen pounds, all of this seeming quite small to me, having had Tia at forty pounds feeling like sixty when she draped herself across my midsection.
As I sat on the ground, Marley the farthest she could get from me, while other people's foster dogs climbed up onto my lap, I began pondering adoption fairs from the animal's perspective. We announce to people that we are holding a fair, and that humans should come here to adopt an animal. But when I explain adoption to fairs to the dogs, I tell them we are here for them to find their human. I tell them that they need to pick one out that they like, and that human will take them home.
I truly believe that a dog chooses you, not the other way around. So as I sat watching the four-legged souls on leashes climb on laps and dive into buckets for water, I was saddened that they hadn't found their persons yet. Katya's right: it is a little depressing. Fate, circumstances, and luck are what left these canines without a companion, without someone to take care of. It is the dogs who take care of us; they take care of us by allowing us to take care of them. The lead us in our lives, reminding us that life is short (and it is for them), that we should begin every day with a walk around the neighborhood, and that sometimes lying the grass and soaking up the sun isn't doing nothing, but is whole lot of pleasurable something. Dogs show us how to live life. Any pet does.
Some may believe that the idea of animal spirit guides is just that: an idea, a mythology. But for anyone who has had the pleasure, luck, and circumstances to co-habitate with another species will tell you that the spirit of an animal guiding you isn't that far-fetched.
Marley knew I wasn't her person. Perhaps she suspected her foster mom was. As for the humans who held the end of the leashes at this park, I wondered if they saw this event as I did: not homeless animals searching for homes, but petless people in search of their animal spirit guides.
Millions of spirit guides are put to death every year in America, having never found the person they were meant to lead. Some find their person, and the person rejects them, abandons them, giving up on them. But we humans, we need a lot help. We need every advantage possible to get through this crazy thing called life. You may not feel lost now; but the moment you find your animal spirit guide, you'll wonder how you made it all these years without them.
As for the spirit I christened Tia, I received an update from the crossroads yesterday.
I guess I heard her wrong when she told me her name. Tia has been renamed "Mia." Mia is hanging out at work, being adored by canines and humans alike. They spend every day with her, all day long at work. At home, Mia follows her people around, perhaps still not quite secure if they'll keep her.
Or, perhaps she's taken to her new humans quite nicely, knowing that they really won't experience any moment in life to the fullest without her right by their side to lead them.
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