I wouldn’t call it giving up. It’s more that our best isn’t good enough anymore. We gave her our best but our best wasn’t good enough.
You see, back in March when we brought the little furball home, we both stipulated that if things didn’t work out with her and Ellie that we’d reconsider.
Then I got laid off. And while working from home has been a blessing, and has saved us a lot of money, at the same time, it’s caused me a lot of stress.
We’ve tried to train her. We’ve tried to housetrain her. We’ve tried.
But we’ve tried ourselves into more debt and near bankruptcy. We’ve tried ourselves into a home that looks like crap, with ripped carpet, ripped cushions that furball won’t stop chewing on no matter how many times we replace it with a bone and tell her no.
No means “more” to her. “Off” means jump higher. “No bites” means “more bites.”
I’ve tried. I can’t…try anymore.
Our apartment is too small for the four of us, and while Ellie has adjusted, Molly well…she’s got boatloads of puppy energy and needs more. She needs more attention, more training, and more space. You see, Ellie’s well adjusted because we dropped thousands into her training. Unfortunately, we don’t have the resources to do that with Molly.
Did I mention we’re not supposed to have more than one pet in our coop? Keeping her means lots of sneaking so that the management across the street doesn’t see us. If they do? “Oh we’re dog sitting….”
So we’re giving her away. Contractually we are obligated to give her back to the rescue organization we got her from, so they’ve been emailed, and worst case we’ll call them tomorrow. We’ve cleared her skin mites, given her a good home, gotten her up to date on her shots. We’ve started training her. But things just aren’t progressing the way we want. Something’s gotta give…and unfortunately, if financial and space constraints weren’t an issue, things would be completely different.
I’ve spent the morning crying. I feel like a failure. Like I’m letting her down. Much like I felt when at 13, my parents gave my childhood dog back to the shelter we got her from because with dad travelling and mom and I’s future uncertain, she was too much to deal with.
“What ever you do, don’t be a crybaby.” My sister told me as we drove up.
We brought her in. Signed her over. And then I cried. Like the cry baby I was.
And now, it’s the same thing all over again. As I write this, I wonder how I’ll hold up if we bring her to the adoption event this weekend. Will I cry? Or should I have Adam go without me? After all, how will it look when I’m standing there holding her leash sobbing. He’s stronger than I am. He never attached to Molly the way he did to Ellie, and he’s never been through this before.
A girl I once knew commented on my facebook status:
dogs are a part of your family. you wouldn’t give your sister back to the hospital because you lost your job. you should def. keep your dog.”
While she raises a point, things happen. It’s not ideal. But it’s the best thing for everyone. Unfortunately, it’s not cut and dry, there are lots of things to consider, and at some point, yes we are being a little selfish. But me losing my job? Had I known a week earlier that I was going to lose my job, we wouldn’t have gotten her.
I know that we’re doing the right thing. I know that she deserves much better than we can give her. But it still breaks my heart to feel like I failed her. I haven’t stopped crying since this morning and I’m pretty sure there’s not an end in sight…
Anyone want to give a good pup a good home??? (careful, she loves Old Navy flip flops)
(Note: Ellie ripped up that linoleum. Not Molly.)
