Friday, November 2, 2018
If Given The Chance...
Life's traumas often find me putting pen to paper (or in this case, fingers to keyboard). On this first day of November, I had decided it would be my "comeback", if you will, to the world I left two years ago. A rekindling of the romance I wooed, posted and skipped through for seven joyful years.
Since my last post, I have endured verbal abuse, a restraining order trial, temporary living arrangements, six weeks of homelessness, therapy, toxic family members, divorce and finally peace in my own space. When I say I have LIVED...
The one constant force through this journey was my rescue pit bull Chance. A self-proclaimed lap dog, he gifted me necessary emotional support in moments I felt I was not going to make it. The irony to the journey is the fact that I could not bring him to live with me in my new apartment, thanks to the discriminatory banning of his breed. I had no choice but to rehome him. The first rehoming was a disaster, with the guy calling me one night to see if I could bring Chance dog food "because he got sick from the BOX of food purchased from a corner store"! Bruh...
The second rehoming I purposely spent two hours at, to ensure the new pet parents and their brood of kids had the right chemistry. Well, that was in April, and after keeping in touch for a couple of weeks, my texts went unanswered. I chalked it up to them feeling he was no longer my concern (i.e. helicopter Dog Mom), so I dealt with the sadness of him no longer in my life. And it was hard; I rescued him from a shelter when he was seven months old, and had to let him go at age 4.
So imagine my panic when I received a call from Lollipop Farm Animal Shelter on this first day of November, informing me that they have a dog that was a surrender whose microchip had my information. Yup, my boy was taken back to a shelter; a place I promised him he would never be subject to. Never to be caged in his crate-free life with me.
The swelling of guilt, sadness and helplessness all came rushing back, as I have nowhere to take him. The only thing I am sure of is that I will go there tomorrow, because that dog has given me a purpose. When there was no one there to comfort me, he would prop his front paws on the chair I sat in, lay his massive head on my shoulders and allow my tears to drop into his fur.
My plans on creating a celebratory post on returning to my blog has been blindsided. Dogs have never been just a "pet" to me; and in life, their leash can sometimes lead you in a direction you had not planned.
Please pray that in my return, I have the chance to rescue him a second time.