Mama said there'd be days like this...

I must be thankful that I have experienced four months of almost all spectacular days, and only one challenging day before getting my first bad day as a shelter volunteer.  And I must be grateful that I had a week between the first bad day and the first terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I am going to use this blog to decompress a little bit from the news I just received, and I ask you to ride this wave with me.  I will hearken back to my first post, and try to reflect on my hope that what I gain from this will be better than what I feel right now.

Wednesday after my last post (so April 4) was an interesting day.  Carley, the boxer I had written about, was on seizure watch.  Apparently, she had a couple seizures on her last few morning walks, though not with me on Monday.  Wednesday was not so kind.  In the midst of one of her leaping bounds, Carley twisted, fell to the ground, and had another seizure.  I know it was harder for me to watch than it was for her to experience, but that didn't ease my heart.  I was thankful to be able to be near her as she came out of it, and provide her with a soothing voice and, when she was more or less clear-headed, some gentle pets and loves.  The adoption coordinator needed the details relayed to her, so as I told her what I had seen, I was able to process.  I did ask her what happens next, though, and was actually pretty dang happy with the answer.  The shelter doesn't necessarily have the resources to help a dog like Carley.  She had had a few tumors removed from her body, and there was a possibility that it was a brain tumor causing the seizures.  Thankfully, there are some amazing rescues out there that help special medical needs cases.  The shelter would attempt to get her to a boxer rescue like that.

Now, I would love to pretend that's how everything ended up playing out.  Unfortunately, this is a non-fiction blog, so I have to tell you about the email I got on Wednesday afternoon.  Carley was taken in for a neurological exam mid-morning, April 4.  Sadly, she had a massive seizure during the exam and passed.  That sucks.  Big time.  Thankfully, I was with a wonderful group of friends when I got this news, and I was able to process with support and hugs around me.  As distanced as it may sound, it sucked, I was sad, but at the same time, it was very clear that Carley was a sick doggy, and I am thankful that she does not have to suffer any more.

Thank you, Carley, for showing me care-free play and love.

Since that day, I have gotten to help out with some dogs in need of extra loves.  The following Saturday, I spent almost 45 minutes with Jackson.  Jackson is on kennel rest, as he has a fractured bone in his right front leg.  He gets potty walks that stay on the grass, and no crazy play.  I think that even if he had the opportunity for crazy play, it will take him a while to want it.  Jackson is very skittish.  He hardly settled at all during the time I had him out.  He would not take treats, peanut butter or cream cheese (which most of the pups go nuts for).  What he did seem to enjoy, though, was me sitting on a bench while he sat at my feet, and getting slow gentle pets.  It was new for me that a pup was more comfortable with me above him than at his level.  Most of the dogs are happy to have me come sit on the ground with them.  It just seemed to make Jackson nervous.  Thankfully, he did finally settle a bit, and when I took him out again on Monday, he seemed to be coming along.  Things were still slow, but he was a little less panicked.  I hope that trend will continue.

Jackson was a bit camera-shy with me, and since he wasn't interested in the treats I offered, I opted to snap a quick side shot and stop stressing him out.

Now...on to where we are today.  With a bit of lead up, I am in a position that I am not getting the news I just got out of nowhere.  I have had warning of it since Saturday.  That being said, it's still BS news.  If you are not sure you can ride this with me, I won't be offended if you walk away from today's post right now, because this is about to get really, really sad, and maybe make you a little angry, too.  I just feel I need to caution, because the next sentence I write will break the hearts of those of you who have been on this ride with me.

Zander was put down today.

Let me give you a second, go get your Kleenex, and if you need it, a stiff drink.











Okay.  

Saturday, Zander was not in his kennel, nor was he out at the Okay Corral.  I was initially in an optimistic panic, and ran to ask the Team Lead if he had been adopted.  The answer I got was not the one I wanted.  Zander got pulled from adoptions, and would be having his fate decided by the powers that be in the coming week.  Turns out, there is one volunteer that Zander has shown aggression towards.  There has not been any actual contact, from what I can gather, but there was a lunging on his leash in the hall incident that was very out-of-character for the big bubblehead.  It was enough aggression to this one volunteer that he was moved back to behavior evaluation.

Now, I will disclose that I do NOT know the whole story.  And as a volunteer, there are probably parts that I will never be privy to, so I need to remind myself not to jump to conclusions.  Zander did not like small children, and that was disclosed on his kennel card.  Apparently he had lunged at his door on a couple occasions for others, not just children, or so I'm told.  My skepticism is that the majority of the dogs in that area of kennels do that, so I'm not sure why that would be a huge deal.  But I digress.

My understanding is that once he was moved back for evaluation, they would have two options.  One would be to determine if he was too much of a liability to send a rescue, and thus be put down.  The other was that he could be plead out to the rescues as a dog with some behavior challenges.  Either scenario, he would not be moved back to adoptions.

Again, I do not have all of the puzzle pieces.  I have to learn to accept that, or I will get very mad.  From my perspective, there would be no reason not to move him out to a rescue.  It sounded as if his aggression was only a surprise in that he has never shown it, not that it was a "turn", where he went from normal old Bubblehead Zander to crazy Cujo.  I hear that, and I think, well crap, no dog is perfect, right?  At least he sent clear signals.  But, again, I don't know the whole story.  To me, that's not an aggressive dog, that's a dog that doesn't like someone, for reasons we may never know.  After all, with these pups that come in, you never know what they dealt with before.  And then in comes the magic word that makes people in California see dollar signs (generally in the direction of leaving themselves and going to lawyers).

Liability.

That's right.  The shelter has a crap-ton of liability about what happens with their pups.  I don't know enough about the process to know when that moves from the shelter to a rescue or an owner, but it was enough of a concern that Zander is gone.  Forever.

I don't know what I can do about how I'm feeling right now.  I let the volunteer lead know that I'd follow up with my commitment for this upcoming Saturday, but that I was going to need a week off to decompress and think.

I said at the beginning of this that I was in it for six months.  I'm not sure that now is the best time to make that decision on walking away.  I'm hurt, I'm sad, and I feel like in a way, I've lost one of my own dogs.  My mother's advice was to reevaluate if I can handle this, because clearly I become attached.  She reminded me why I had changed my mind about becoming a vet...and this was a big part of it. With the same breath, though, she reminded me to celebrate the joy that I have found as a part of this experience, in the form of a wiggly little brown and white dog with a silly ear who is proving to be a phenomenal running companion already.  Raeanne is a lucky one.  She got out.  So did Edward, and Carlie.


I have to step back to that orientation, where we were told that there would be hard days.  But we were also told that our hours, our energy, and our love would help these dogs shine.  I have seen some amazing dogs find fur-ever homes, and I am lucky to have been a part of that.  I have celebrated life with a dog on her last day.  I have watched dozens of people, probably at least a hundred even, give up hours of their day, multiple days a week, to try to help dogs shine.  At seven AM on a Saturday morning, you get a sense for the sheer volume of people that care as much as I do.


One of the volunteers and I were talking about Zander's situation on Saturday morning; she is clearly as fond of him as I am.  With tears in her eyes, and frustration in her voice, she said something that is really resonating right now, but for different purpose.


"They expect these dogs to be perfect.  No dog is perfect.  All we can do is learn as much as we can, teach as much as we can, and share that information with those who need to know."


I think I need to take that approach towards my experience.  I seemed to have expected this volunteering journey to be perfect--to have no sorrow.  But it will.  And all I can do is learn as much as I can from the good and the bad, and share with anyone who will listen, and those who need to know, that despite shitty days like this, I think it is probably worth it.  And when I'm not too sure, all I have to do is close my eyes and listen to the snoring, snorting pitbull at my feet.




In memory of Sir Zander Bubblehead, the biggest lap dog I have ever known, and a dog who has changed my life.

May the walks be filled with good smells, may the laps be cozy and may the treats be plentiful in the place you now find yourself.

Lest I ignore those still here...

Jackson's information can be found here.  He will not be fully healed for about six more weeks, but feel free to stop by and introduce yourself.