Season Two: Homecoming

While I was getting over my loss of Tia, and busy driving a dog around I suspected might be faking blindness, Tia was touring Northern California, Oregon, and even Washington.  Lucky for her, she charms her way into every single person's heart and home.  Being stuck in a kennel wasn't going to happen for Tia.  Much like how I found myself saying, "No, no, don't put her in boarding; I'll take her," so did every person along the way who met Tia.

I'm a little jealous.  Tia has now been further north on the western seaboard than I have.  I didn't realize she had already left Sacramento when the deal was called off, so she got to go on an extended road trip.  Once back in Sacramento, she headed to a pilot's home.  Cindy, who I had met during the Italian Greyhound transport, was the one scheduled to fly Tia to Jason, another Pilots-N-Paws pilot I had met on another Patti transport, who would fly her all the way to me in Burbank.  Cindy was supposed to put Tia in boarding until she could arrange the flight, but after meeting her, decided she'd rather have the girl in her home.

I was sent a video Cindy took of Tia running around in the dog park like a loon, tongue out, racing around, bouncing into dogs, having the time of her life.  As Cindy calls out "Tia!  Tia!  Tia!" Tia comes running across the park at full speed and just as she goes out of the camera's sight, you can hear Cindy go, "Ooomph," and the screen goes black.

Yup, Tia still hasn't learn to stop of her own volition; gotta use a human as a bumper.

Knowing that Tia was having a good time and was well loved made her absence sit better with me.  However, I was worried that the longer it took Tia to return, the more likely her potential adopters would bow out. A woman named Lauren had submitted an application the day Tia left. She said she watched Tia's video every day, pining away for her.  I sent her more pictures in the hopes of keeping her interest.  I didn't want to lose her.  She lived in a townhouse with her boyfriend and worked at a business that allowed dogs in the offices and even had a dog park out back!  Tia would be the social lady (well, she's not a lady, but whatever) she was born to be.

In return for me driving Deej, Patti did the homecheck for Tia.  She lives nearby, and surprisingly, Lauren was totally okay with someone checking out her home to make sure it was safe and secure, even before meeting Tia.  I had a feeling Season Two with Tia would be mighty brief.  But getting a forever home is all I ever wanted for Tia.

I wondered if Tia would remember me.  I mean, this was one traveling canine who had met a lot of people in the recent weeks and stayed with many folks.  It's like those Mastercard commercials where the dog is on the road:

But even at the end of the third commercial, Badger remembers his family.  And that's what I was to Tia: her family, her person.

I watched from just outside the terminal as Jason lifted Tia from behind his seat and placed her on the wing of his plane.  She hadn't caught my eye yet, and was just going along on this adventure.  When Jason started walking toward me, I waved, and I saw the spark of recognition in Tia's eyes.  As she came closer I knelt down to greet her and Jason said, "Oh, you know her?"

"Yeah, I was her foster mom for six weeks," I said as I took the leash from him.

On the ground, Tia wiggled and waggled and burrowed herself into my side, trying to be on top of me and all around me all at once.  I was overjoyed, just as she was, clearly.

As we walked back inside the terminal, a guy said to me, "Man, that dog was so happy to see you.  We were all watching from the windows."

I must have been smiling ear to ear.  I was all full of joy and pride.  Tia was happy to see me.  If she had thought I abandoned her, she certainly didn't now.  She still loved me.

I tried to capture a picture of Jason and Tia together, but Tia was still in spaz mode, trying to scratch her back on the grass.  Not terribly graceful.

 

Even trying to get a picture of her and me ended up not capturing her face or mine.

Tia was overjoyed, but completely exhausted.  She was even prepared to drive if I didn't get a move on.  She wanted to go home.

Once in her own seat, she fell fast asleep.  It had been a tiring day for her.

I didn't now if they fed her or not, so she might have been hungry too.  I watched her consume a large twig while I was chatting with Jason at the airport.

Back at home, she really was at home.

I was reminded of Murphy, who after his brief almost-forever home last year he came back with me that night and collapsed on my lap on the couch: "Thank heavens.  What a trying day.  I'm so glad I'm back."

I think Tia enjoyed her adventures, but she also seemed so content, peaceful, and happy to just be back to something familiar, with me, on the couch.

And I was happy too.  I didn't know how to tell her we might only have four hours together.  I told Lauren I would meet her with Tia at 8:00 at her house.  And I knew, I just knew, Tia probably wouldn't be returning with me that night.

I packed up what remained of her food from before and gathered her paperwork.  Maripat had emailed Lauren the adoption contract in case they decided to pull the trigger that night.  Everyone had fallen in love with her along the way; I couldn't imagine this couple wouldn't fall for her.  I just had to see if Tia fell for them.

I explained to Tia on our ride that this was it: that she had to tell me if she liked these folks or not, since they really wanted her.  But it was her decision.  The dog always chooses the human; you have no say in the matter.

I left the food in the truck, and only brought Tia in to meet them.  Lauren and Kevin, her boyfriend, were really sweet.  The townhouse was spacious, uncluttered, and very clean.  I could see why Patti gave it overwhelming thumbs up.  In fact Patti said she'd like to give them one of her adoptable dogs, but they only wanted Tia.

I'm sure Tia thought these were just some of my friends for her to meet.  She was polite and sat on Kevin's lap (she's totally a boy's dog).  She gave him kisses, and was polite to Lauren too.  Tia took a tour, as did I and eventually in the upstairs portion as Lauren, Kevin, and I spoke, Tia appeared bored.  First she headed downstairs and I told her it was awfully rude, given that we were here for her sake not mine.  When she came back, she collapsed on the floor to take a nap.

I do think she was exhausted from travel.  And perhaps some indigestion.  The first time I took her out to go to the bathroom, I noticed that her poop was really hard and dark.  I planned on asking Cindy what she had been feeding her since with me, it was always way too soft.  Whatever fiber Cindy was giving her must be good for her.

But the next time Tia pooped, I noticed an odd color: bright green.  Did Tia become a vegetarian?  I walked over to the cracked-open turd, picked it up, and really looked at it.  Nope, that's not plant; that's a tennis ball.  Or Kong squeaky toy.  Yup, there's the rubber part, the green fuzz, oh yes, and the stick I saw her eat at the airport.  As I stood there holding the turd a few inches away from my face, trying to decipher its contents, I filed the experience in my mind as a "why I'm still single" moment.

With Tia peacefully sleeping on the floor and having gone over everything about Tia that I could think of, finally Kevin said from the beanbag chair, "So, what do we do now? I mean how do we get to keep her?"

Lauren let out a relieved sigh.  "I've been waiting for that."

Here's how it worked:  Lauren would find all these dogs online and forward them on to Kevin with, "How about this one?" or "What about this one?"  After many an email, when he saw Tia he finally said, "Okay, let's meet this one."  Lauren had already fallen in love with Tia before meeting her, just as I had.  She just needed Kevin to be just as much in love.  And he clearly was.

I think this picture is symbolic of how Tia will be treating him--just walking all over him, and he's enjoying every second of it.

She really is a boy's dog.  Even though it was Lauren who found her, I think she's going to be Kevin's dog.  At one point while on the couch with Tia on his lap and Lauren next to him, he proudly said to Tia, "Awww, now I have my girls."

Lauren and I walked out to my truck to get the dogfood and give Tia a chance to pee if she needed to.  I asked Lauren if she wanted to wait a day to have Tia.  I could certainly have her one night and that would give them time to get a dog bed, food bowls, etc.  Lauren thought that was a good idea.  So, as soon as we got back inside, Lauren made the suggestion:

"So Stephanie had an idea  We can wait until tomorrow night to get Tia. That way we have dog food bowls, and a leash and collar, and bed and everything and have the whole weekend to start with her."

Kevin's face dropped.  He looked over at what looked like cat bowls on a shelf.  "We can use those for now."  He made his case quite clear, if his sad expression didn't adequately state it. "No, Tia's not leaving.  I want her to stay."

And that was it.  Once the contract was signed and the money sent to Maripat, that was the end of the story for Tia and me.  Again, Tia didn't know.  It was a much happier occasion for me, of course.  Much better than putting her in a van and driving away.  Yet when that happened, she didn't seem the least bit upset.  But this time she was, and her face made my heart break.

I gave her a hug and a kiss and smiled at her.  "You're home, Tia.  You didn't get just a boy.  You got a boy AND a girl.  How awesome is that?  I'm so happy for you.  I'll miss you.  I love you.  But you stay here, okay?  You have a good life here."

I stood up from the couch and Tia tried to follow.  Kevin held her collar to keep her from following me.

"But.... But..." Tia's face said.  "I just got you back.  Don't leave me again."

I kept smiling, hoping she would understand, hoping she would get that I wasn't abandoning her.  This time I was truly completing the mission: bringing her home.

"You can visit her anytime and check in whenever," Kevin offered.

I will indeed check in.  But I don't know how Tia would handle me stopping in.  I think that would be confusing for her--until she really has a chance to bond with her family.

Never seeing her again was always going to happen.  As much as seeing her sad face hurt me, I drove away knowing it was the right place for her to be.  I didn't even get one more night with her, but that probably would have made it harder.

Every dog stays in my heart forever, and every dog is special to me.  But Tia was like Harry; a little more special than the others.  I can't explain why or how.  I can feel bad that she thought I was her person.  But really, when I'm completely honest about it, I feel lucky and am so proud that a dog as great as Tia chose me.  She's a special dog, and a well-travelled one now too.  She got to share her love and herself with so many people and dogs, and I know she'll continue to do so where she is for the rest of her life.

Lauren emailed me and said Tia did wonderfully the first day on the job.  She's already made some new dog friends, and is content to be with Lauren at her desk.  It's the life Tia deserves, and I feel so blessed to have been such a big part of her journey getting there.

Blind Faith

I'm always up for new experiences.  I have drawn the line, however - since Stella - that I will not take on a dog with ailments that require my ability to tend to them or they might die.  However, a canine with a disability--why not?  Since Tia's flight was cancelled due to the possibility of inclement weather, I said Yes to Patti when she asked if I could overnight a blind Boxer and drive him to LAX the next morning.

"He doesn't look blind," I said to Patti as I watched Dupi stand up in the backseat and try to make his way over Patti's center console, into the driver's seat and out into the parking lot.

"Oh, no, he's blind.  He walks into things," Patti assured me.

That's the thing: how can you tell if a dog is blind?  I mean, with people, there are the tell-tale signs:  they wear dark sunglasses, use a walking cane, or even, appropriately, have a seeing-eye dog.  A blind dog does not have any of these things.  In fact, my pea-sized human brain kept forgetting he was blind due to his lack of obvious signs.  He strode with such confidence down the sidewalk, using a high step and graceful trot, that I kept forgetting until he would walk directly into a tree.

I'm the worst seeing-eye person ever.

I didn't know that his blindness was caused by cataracts until the next day.  Meaning, that at one point, Dupi (or Deej, as I called him because Dupi is a horrible name, if it's a name at all) did have sight at one point.  So I spent the entire evening just thinking about what it must be like to be completely blind--and a dog.

As human beings with language, we can express our thoughts and experiences to others.  We can describe what something looks like to another person who can't see it.  They can describe to us how they experience the world.

But does a puppy born blind ever think the world is visual at all?  Does a deaf dog believe he's missing out on auditory experience, or does he just accept that one feels vibrations only?  Do the dogs communicate amongst themselves and let each other know how they experience the world?

There have been cases where sighted dogs assist blind dogs.  A couple of years ago, I had an opportunity to meet one such pair: Chance and Blue.  In fact, Chance was both blind and deaf.  Blue was his eyes and ears.  They were found on the street together, two homeless pit bulls weaving in and out of traffic.  No one knew Chance lacked both sight and hearing until they got to the shelter.

When I watched them interact together, I noticed how Chance had this other sort of perception--he could feel Blue.  If Blue got too far away, Chance would let out a whine, and Blue would return and body-bump him.  "I'm right here," he seemed to say.  Then Chance would lose all his tension again and be happy to trot around the open space.

I do wonder if we, as humans, are all disabled in some way.  We claim there are only five senses, but how do we know?  You have to discover something to know you lack it.  What if there's a whole other sense of perception that none of us have?  Or maybe a few people have it, but they don't say anything for fear of being outcast.

It's been said that when you lose one sense, your other senses make up for it.  But that doesn't explain Deej's unnerving confidence in the face of a world of darkness.  I have less confidence stumbling around my bedroom in the dark of night than he has in an unknown neighborhood.  Maybe there really are more than five senses... but the dogs can't communicate what those other ones are.

Adaptation is more of an art than a sense I suppose, but Deej definitely has that. His ability to make it around in the world is impressive.  I was hoping his previous owners had taught him some sort of directions, although I wasn't sure which words he knew.  At the dog park with Tia, for instance, a woman with a blind dog would simply call out, "Watch!" to the dog if he was about to walk into something.  He would immediately stop walking and turn in another direction.

So for Deej, I tried, "Right," "Left," "Forward," to direct him but mostly I found myself saying the word, "Sorry," as I couldn't communicate the dangers that were around him.

He was a pretty sweet and chill boy for going through all he had and was about to start another whole adventure in the morning.  He's a purebred with a docked tail, so although I don't know if he was an owner-surrender or stray, I can state with some confidence that he had an owner at one point.  He skin showed some scarring from sitting too long on hard surfaces.  He had been in a shelter--a scary place for those that can see what's going on; only hearing the noises, I can't imagine how terrifying that must be.  Then once he got rescued, he was neutered.  Upon picking him up, the rescuer discovered he was bleeding--yup, botched neuter job.  So the poor guy had to be opened back up again.  Once should be enough for any animal.

He had spent the past few weeks at a vet's recovering from the two surgeries, and finally he was on his way to his foster dad and champion--in Illinois. 

The internet makes it a lot easier for animals to be networked, and had it not been for the internet, Deej, formally Dupi, would most likely be dead right now.  A kind gentleman who loves Boxers, and has three of his own, saw the plea for Dupi online, and donated money to get Deej pulled, get him his surgery, board him, then fly him all the way to Chicago.  He had a potential adopter, but if that fell through, Deej would stay with him until another adopter was found.

I had never had an experience with Pet Airways, which is who Deej would be flying the friendly skies with, so I was happy to get a chance to check it out.  I was shocked to see that Deej's plane ticket was a whopping $750.  This man must really want Deej here, because even a purebred Boxer puppy doesn't cost that much. 

I had heard Pet Airways was a great way to get your beloved pet across the country.  I was confused when Patti asked me to take Deej because someone needed to watch him before his flight.  Didn't they do that at the airline?  I mean, for $750 they better be hand-feeding him and picking up his shit before it hits the ground.  Especially because it wasn't a direct flight to Chicago.  Patti explained that they would watch him, but in case there was a long line, I'd have to stay with him until he could be checked in.

Every great idea has its flaws.  This airline is great as none of the animals are in cargo.  The planes are devoid of passenger seats and in their place are rigs to hold animal crates.  An airline attendant walks the cabin every fifteen minutes, checking on the passengers.  This is fantastic!

However, they're not using Boeing 757's.  They're using tiny planes that don't have the fuel capacity or elevation ability to make too long of a flight.  Also, they might as well serve as many as possible.  So Deej, here, would be sky-bound at 10:30 AM from Los Angeles, and then proceed to touch down in Phoenix, Denver, and somewhere in Iowa, all before landing at Midway Airport, and ready to be picked up by his foster dad sometime between 3:40AM and 6:40AM Chicago time.

I thought getting to Massachusetts from California was a pain in the ass.  That's nothing in comparison to Deej's itinerary.

I admit I had gotten used to Tia.  I was used to our ease in travel.  I hadn't transported a new dog in quite some time.  I thought Deej would be fine to ride in the seat, as in Patti's car he had made himself at home in the backseat.  But I don't have a backseat.

The poor boy is a bit lanky, and curled up didn't seem so comfortable. Not that he ever looked truly happy with the droopy face.

So he tried this:

Now can you understand why I kept forgetting he was blind?  I'm sure everyone else on the 110 thought he was just watching the traffic out the front windshield.

You forget how much we use our eyes and body language to communicate.  Trying to drive, I'm pointing at the seat, telling Deej to sit down, and I realize he has no idea that I'm pointing at anything.  He might not even realize that I'm a tad busy at the moment.

Again, I must commend his ability to adapt and not fight new experiences.  He didn't freak out; he didn't cry or bark, and get all worked up.  He just went along for the ride.

Maybe that's the lesson I needed to learn on this one: to just relax and go along for the ride.  Or, that I really shouldn't offer my services to blind dogs either--for their sake, not mine.