What a difference a week makes...

The last time I wrote in here, I was typing about Savannah and Satchmo and how well they were getting along. I spoke too soon.  As I type now, Satchmo is at the local animal shelter, and I'm hoping beyond all hope that he finds a good home. Possibly one without a 70-pound dog already in residence.

Over the weekend, we drove to the no-kill shelters in the surrounding towns. No room at the inn. Well, of course there's no room... they keep every dog whether they're adoptable or not. And let's face it... older dogs and not-so-cute dogs hardly every get taken home.  Do the math: there could never be enough no-kill shelters for every single puppy and dog that comes into this world courtesy of people who don't 'fix' their pets.

With last-ditch efforts yesterday to find Satchmo another home, I couldn't put it off any longer. I gathered up his vet papers and vaccination certificates, and drove that little dog to the local shelter this morning. All the way there, Satchmo sat on my lap and watched this blasted country world go by, and when we got to the shelter he sat quietly in my arms while I talked to the woman there.

I offered to pre-pay Satchmo's adoption fee, so if someone did come along looking for a small dog, they wouldn't have to pay anything at all to take Satchmo home with them. The woman said that wasn't allowed, and there was just no guarantee how long they could keep Satchmo there, no matter how small he was and how little he ate. When I went into the dog-kennel area with Satchmo, I understood why... they had so many dogs and even litters of puppies. What on this blessed earth is wrong with people who don't understand the importance of getting their pets spayed or neutered? There ought to be a law... if you don't have those procedures done, then you can't have a pet. Period.

Savannah and Satchmo.... I thought they'd be best friends forever. It just wasn't meant to be. Satchmo just had too much energy for Savannah... always wanting to play, wanting to be the top dog here, and Savannah just didn't know how to handle that.  She either got very aggressive with Satchmo, or she stayed in another room and just ignored him, transferring her frustration to Sweet Pea, chasing that poor cat for no reason at all.  Most of the time, I had to keep Satchmo on a long leash in the kitchen, just so Savannah could have her own space in the breakfast room or the TV room. Not good. Not for either dog.

This morning when I left Satchmo in that kennel space, I could barely look at his face. He was sitting there quietly, as if all the energy had been drained out of him the minute we walked into the shelter door. I gave his leash to the guy taking care of the kennels and he asked me if Satchmo was friendly. "Yes, he's very friendly. He loves everybody."

It was all I could do to not scoop that little dog up and tell those people I had changed my mind. Savannah has been through a lot this year since those blasted fireworks sent her running off into the woods for 12 horrendous days. We got another dog because we thought it would be good for Savannah, and I would have done anything to bring her out of her post-lost shell.  We didn't realize that once the novelty of having a permanent playmate wore off, Savannah would be wanting her privacy and quiet-time back. Satchmo didn't understand privacy and quiet... he wanted to play, play, play, all the time, and the play just got too rough. Sooner or later, one of those dogs would have gotten hurt.

So now I'm hurting. But that will go away. It's easier having just one dog, and it's peaceful without Satchmo's energy reverberating all over the house. Savannah has stopped chasing Sweet Pea, and the house is like a tomb. Quiet. And all I can think of right now as I type is Satchmo sitting in that concrete kennel, wondering where his pillow bed is. If there is indeed a puppy god, I hope someone goes to the shelter and decides to bring Satchmo home with them.

I am so sorry I adopted that puppy in the first place.  Big, big mistake, and I'm paying for it  now.