I’d like you to meet Hank.
In fact, at this point, I’d like ANYONE to meet Hank, because so far I have been the only one to have met Hank.
A few weeks back, we finally made good on a goal to get our dog a dog. Blue is a very social fellow with lots of energy that can only truly be expended by play with another doggo. Knowing this, we agreed to get a new pupper this spring, to let him have a brother.
Once the time was right, I went straight to the Humane Society’s website and found this extremely good boy waiting for someone to come take him to his forever home. So, I drove my happy butt there and did a little meet and greet to see if we were right for each other.
He was, of course, amazing, and I was ready to put him in the car and bring him home right then. Until I noticed he had a wee booboo on his paw. I brought it to the shelter volunteer’s attention and she took him back for their vet to have a quick look.
Wee Booboo turned out to be Lorg Abscess, and he was swiftly taken off the adoption list and put in Puppo Quarantine for treatment. “I’ll take him with the abscess,” I said. “I’ll get him in right away with our vet.”
“It’s against policy. We’ll let you know when he’s ready to be adopted,” they said.
“It’ll be about a week,” they said.
Let me just skip to the chase-your-tail scene…
While Hank was healing up his paw, he caught kennel cough, a very contagious upper respiratory infection that knocked him on his duff. Of course, this is a risk in any shelter situation, and even when folks board their dogs and go on vacation. Many dogs in one place is just as dangerous as many kindergartners in one place. Bodily fluids everywhere, man. If one has it, they all have it.
It has been a month since I met Hank. So far, no one else in our family has met him, but he has a bed, bowls, a collar, a blankie, a kennel, and lots of love waiting here for him. But the poor guy just cannot shake being sick, and as long as he’s got issues, the shelter won’t let me adopt him.
But Nicole, if they had let you take him when he just had an abscess, he would have been out of the shelter before the wave of kennel cough hit! He could have been saved all this sickness.
Friend, you are preaching to the choir. If you think I’m not mad as hell, you’ve probably never met me. Had they let me adopt him when I was right there ready to do so, this would be a much different story for this poor dog. He has a home waiting for him but he’s stuck in a small kennel with tubes coming out of him and no understanding of what’s going on.
Dogs in situations like this tend to not recover. They lose hope and let depression take over. I can be all “Fight against the sadness, Artax” but without being able to see him and snuggle him, he’s got no idea people are ready to love all over his fuzzy head.
I’ve been told they’ll call me when there’s news. I’m not gonna lie, I’m terrified the next call will be “We couldn’t save him.” I don’t know how I’m going to keep from screaming into the phone “I COULD HAVE, YOU WORTHLESS PIECES OF
I’m doing a good job of staying calm, polite, and positive in dealing with the shelter, but my heart is broken for Hank and the Capricorn/INTJ in me is wrapping metaphorical barbed wire around a metaphorical baseball bat ready to do some metaphorical damage from being at the mercy of clearly ridiculous policies that do more harm than good and make not a GOSHDARN BIT OF SENSE!!! On the shelter’s watch, he’s gotten an injured paw and an upper respiratory infection that he can’t shake. On my watch, he’d have belly rubs and a warm bed to sleep in. So tell me, where should Hank be right now, logically? Who would actually be taking care of him?
Just give me my freakin’ dog already.
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