Do you ever visit the pound? If we’re looking for a dog or cat, we go there first. It’s so full of throw-away pets it’s heartbreaking. I’m one of those individuals who want to sneak in late at night and let them all loose. Or take them all home with me.
Sugar came from the pound. Our other one was on their way to the pound because a friend of mine couldn’t find anyone to take him and she was moving. The dog couldn’t go with her. Since I couldn’t let that happen, I brought Chris home as a Father’s Day present for Ed. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled he was! (Not!) So, at one time, we had two big dogs in our backyard instead of one.
Sugar, the lab, must have loved it at the pound. She was always getting out of the yard and I’d have to go rescue her. Luckily the neighbor stopped the truck one time, just as they were pulling away with her in a cage. It still cost me to bail her out, but at least they let me keep her. And the ticket. I gave her the “if you like it so much down there you can just go back” lecture, but she knew I wasn’t serious. To keep from having to pay all the doggie tickets, we made our back yard into the equivalent of a prison. The only thing missing is the guard tower.
In case you ever need to do the same, put a two-foot roll of chicken wire all around the top of the chain link fence. Hold it in place with rebar or something similar and lots of wire. It’ll look bad, but the dogs can’t escape. Well, they can after they figure out how to open the gate and just walk through. You might consider slipping a padlock through that little hole in the latch, like I did. You don’t have to lock it, just put it in there. I figured if I locked it, Sugar would figure out the combination, so it was pointless. She never figured out how to get that padlock off, and then she got so old she finally just gave up. I can’t tell you how much that pleased me. One less trip to the pound I had to make. Unfortunately, we had to go from the backyard to the front yard through the house because it was easier, but the dogs didn’t get out.
We had another stray dog that showed up one day and refused to leave. She lived with us for years. She liked the pound, also. One time I had to go bail her out. I walked up and down the aisles, with hundreds of dogs looking at me with those big puppy-dog eyes. My heart was breaking.
I walked right by Patsy and almost missed her. When it dawned on me that I had passed “my” dog, I backed up and looked at her. She was lying on the concrete, her head on her paws, and just looked up at me with the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. Then she suddenly realized that Mommy was there. She jumped up, a sparkle in her eyes, and tried to get out of the cage to get to me. All the time I was filling out the forms, she was straining at the leash, ready to go home.
Nothing we did would make her stay in the backyard. She enjoyed being in the front, underneath a big bush. Right out where the dog catcher could readily spot her. I finally gave up and took her to one of the no-kill shelters. That was a sad day at our house. Over the next year, I occasionally ended up back at the shelter. I’m one of their sponsors, so I would take supplies out there. Each time I visited, Patsy would still be there. Looking all dejected, until she saw me. Then there was that same joy in her. I hated to leave her but knew it was for the best.
On one of my trips, a year to the day later, she was still there. Patsy was an old dog when she showed up at our house and not one that someone would want to take home with them. I won’t say she was ugly, just not attractive. I know it was exactly one year to the day, because when I was filling out the paperwork to take her back home, the attendant told me it was exactly one year. Yes, I took her home. She stayed with us for quite a few years before she passed away. Oddly enough, she was perfectly content to stay in the backyard. I guess her year of being gone had made her realize how good she had it here. And, by the way, we have a huge backyard with lots of trees. And the doggies had their own room they could go into when it was too hot or cold outside. Even if it does look like a prison camp, they’re comfortable.
Dogs just want to be loved. I can almost understand people not liking cats. Cats, if they’re not raised right from the beginning, can be independent. But not dogs. Dogs just want to love and be loved. So why is it that so many dogs end up at the pound? There are literally hundreds at the one here. And we all know what that means. They’ll have to be put to sleep.
They come in all shapes and sizes and colors. Pretty dogs and no-so-pretty dogs. I can understand the occasional person getting in a bind and not being able to take care of their dog. That’s what the no-kill shelters are for, isn’t it? But these dogs were just caught loose and their owners didn’t care enough to get them out. Based on personal experience, lots of it, that does become expensive, but if you love someone, how can you just sit by and let it be killed? You end up paying a big fine, granted, and they put you on probation, but it keeps you off jury duty. That one factor alone should be enough to make you go down there and get them.
I think in some way, humanity is like the dog pound. Our world is full of unwanted people, in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some people live in nice houses they wouldn’t ever try to escape from and others live in the equivalent of a concrete cage. But with all those variations of humanity, there is one common thread. Everyone has a soul.
Some of the souls are grungy and old…not very adoptable. There’s pain in a lot of eyes—that dejected, sad, puppy-dog look—kind of like Patsy’s. We’re luckier than puppies, though. Father is waiting to adopt us anytime we want. And if we start backsliding, He’ll keep checking to see how we’re doing. Then one day you realize that what you have in Him is much better than what you could get anywhere else and you’re no longer trying to escape to greener pastures. You finally realize there are no greener pastures, there is no safer place to be, than living in the heart of someone who loves you and whom you love. And He takes you back home. Where you belong.