He’s Home

My boy, Hank, has finally made the arduous pilgrimage home. But before I go any further, let me explain something:

In my post, Meet Hank, I appeared to be railing against the folks taking care of him at the shelter. I want to state for the record that the good folks of the county’s Humane Society are some of the best people on earth. They’re kind and dedicated to the animals in their care. I am so grateful for the work that they do to save as many dogs, cats, and various other animals as they possibly can. Humane Societies are worthy of praise (and donations). What I was upset about was a dumb policy. If someone is willing to take an animal “as-is” I think it makes more sense to get them into a home and out of a cage. So I’m not mad at the folks for following policy as much as I am mad at stupid policy. That being clarified…

Hank is home and is currently at my feet staring at a kitchen cabinet. It has been six weeks since I first met him, and he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still the gently snuggler I met that day in March, and now the rest of the house knows it, too. After the Big Blue Blitz, it’s almost weird to have such a chill dog.

Speaking of Blue, the two get along just fine. There hasn’t been a speck of aggression or annoyance from either of them, but Blue definitely does want to play and Hanks is not quite ready.

A side-effect of fighting for his life for the last six weeks is that homeskillet is skinny AF. He’s clearly emaciated. Like, I hear Sarah McLachlan singing in the distance when I look at him. We are plugging him full of food, treats, and spoonfuls of peanut butter to help him put on some weight, but until he’s plumped, he’s weak and cold. So, it’s going to be a slower road for him to start running around the yard with Blue. That’s okay. I have a few weeks to work with him before we leave for Germany.

I’m so happy he’s here, though. Poor guy has had a whole family here, and a warm bed of his own, and a collar, and a bowl for food, and a blankie and he had no idea. But now he’s here and he’s not wasting any time.

In sad news, we lost Daisy, our Sultan chick. I don’t have a clue what happened. She was there one minute, and the next she wasn’t. I’m still in shock over the whole experience, especially coming off the deaths of the buns this weekend. I know it’s part of the gig, but for real… Give me a minute to blow my nose before you’ve got me crying again.

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About Nicole

A writer since she was old enough to hold a crayon, Nicole spends a large portion of her day communing with the voices in her head. When she’s not writing, she’s likely engaging in some other creative outlet, such as gardening, cooking, painting, or screaming into the void. She lives at Quill Cottage with her husband and more animals than the city would probably like.


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