I’m a big animal lover. I stopped eating cows, pigs, turkey and chickens a few years ago (let’s call them by their names and stop referring to them as beef and pork, for one thing) and it’s far reaching. My heart breaks for every photo of an animal looking for a forever home, every story I read about animal abuse– be it dog fighting, containing beautiful animals in small cages for our viewing enjoyment (zoos), overcrowded shelters or abandonment.
My heart equally breaks when I hear about a family who is moving and “can’t” take their pet so they start looking for someone else to take care of the “problem”. I know sometimes stuff happens but giving away your dog? Maybe they don’t realize that the dog is firmly rooted in the family. The dog sees the family as….well, family. All too often, people see their family pets as a major inconvenience or a minor player in the household.
Last week, my parents visited our house with their 2 small dogs. There are 4 canines residing at my house already so you can imagine the chaos but we got through it. It just takes a little organizing and a lot of patience.
My beagle, who the vet estimates to be around 11 years old, really likes my dad. Tail wagging, eyes widening, wild abandonment kind of like. He always has- they just have this sweet connection and rather thoughtlessly, my dad and I started talking about Wally moving to Ohio with my parents. The old guy (Wally, not my dad) hasn’t taken to our newest rescue brought home last year and my dad and I thought Wally would just have a happier life if he were living with 2 smaller dogs and being treated like the king he is. 🙂 After a few conversations, we decided to wait until Thanksgiving when my parents finish renovating their back yard. 
The day after my parents left to return home, I began the day begging the beagle to come to the back yard. Wally hears me but ignores me and that stubborn thing he does necessitates me actually finding him and physically moving his ample bum off the chair. This scenario plays itself out 5-6 times a day. But let me pop the quiet lid to the doggie treats and he nearly breaks a hip running to the kitchen, his hearing amplified 99 times the norm. He’s an interesting character.
I looked at Wally that next morning and wondered what I was thinking. Would he be happiest at my parents? Maybe. But he’s our dog. He’s our Wally. He’s our huge pain in the rear end, stubborn, dog food stealing Wally. He stays.
I didn’t ship off my 14 year old when I silently begged for that 18th birthday to arrive within 4 days rather than 4 years and I’m not sending him anywhere either. He chose us when he showed up at our front door 8 years ago, dragging a filthy leash and looking like he’d missed more than a few meals. He chose us then and we chose him for the duration of his life.
I love him for all the “ism’s” that make him a unique member of the family. How he sneaks around corners to see if anyone is visible near the dog food bowl so he can check to make sure every last morsel has been eaten. How he snores like a truck driver with asthma. How he comes to find me when he hears thunder. How he barks at the 2 pit bulls he lives with when they choose to wrestle too close to “his” chair. How he shares a crate at night with our little rat terrier because she likes to be near him.
So he’ll just have to be content with being treated like a king in THIS house. He’ll just have to be happy with his favorite chair, his favorite treats and the uncomfortable, awkwardly aggressive kisses from dogs that outweigh him by 20-30 pounds. We are family.
I knew you weren’t serious. That was about as ridiculous as you wanting to be a FOSTER Mom to Arya. Hahaaa