I had already thought, based on the events of Friday, that this was going to be a weekend where things simply did not go as planned. After a very flustrating (sp) time all week trying to get our auto insurance teed up for the ownership transfer, we had an appointment on Friday at Service Ontario to get that finalized. Unfortunately, nobody explained us the rules of the paperwork and how we needed certain documents notarized, not just signed willy-nilly. We left disappointed and frustrated and went to the Williams to soothe our nerves, then did some retail therapy at the nearby Marshall's.
We located the notary on short notice, although it was relatively high price. Whatever. We teed it up with Mel's parents for that night after our workout (which had been shifted from Tuesday to Friday due to Mel going into the office on Tuesday for a yoga event, after which I met her and we had sushi for dinner.) We went and met the chatty notary, then floated around trying to find somewhere to have dinner, eventually settling at Kelsey's for nachos and wings.
I almost don't want to tell you about Saturday, but if I didn't, it would be a huge gap in this story. It's something that I think I am/we are still going to be processing for the rest of the year, if not longer. I think, however, that I am going to keep this post hidden for a while until I decide the statute of limitations is up and I feel more okay about it.
We were to get our first ever Foster Dog on Saturday, Pandora. We had gone through the interview process, watched approved videos about how to handle dogs, read the literature. We knew that it would be a tough adjusting period. Originally the plan was to go to Brantford and pick the dog up there, but it was determined that we would not be able to fit the crate in our car so the volunteer would have to bring her to us. That's a tip for you -- don't get a dog you can't transport. I never had big dogs that needed a big car, I always had small dogs that fit in sedans. But whatever. I thought, we were pretty much committed at that point and the foreshadowing didn't really hit me.
Nor did it when she arrived and she pointed out that the girl wasn't wearing her harness properly and didn't even have the right kind of collar on, but she was unable to gain the dog's trust to correct this.
We took the dog in. We let her rest in her crate for a while, then after she seemed settled, let her out to wander the house. She was big on outdoors -- she grew up outside ya know -- so she much preferred to be out than in. We took her out a few different times during the day, in between attempts to get her to take food from our hands (which she wasn't interested in... that's okay, there's time to work on that.) Every so often her sweet side would come out, and she was seemingly getting attached to Mel because she would follow her around the house a bit. I think she liked me less because I had dragged her inside at one point when coaxing with food didn't work. Okay, we can work on that in the future.
Evening fell. Mel was looking at dogfood fanny packs. Pandora still hadn't gone to the bathroom. So we decided one last pee break in the backyard couldn't hurt. It was about 10. She sniffed around but wasn't interested in much. So we decided we would bring her inside, coax her into her crate possibly with a treat, go to bed and deal with the consequences in the morning.
She wouldn't come in. Not even for food. She got her first two paws in and wouldn't budge, pulling back. She slipped out of her harness and collar, and off she went.
I gave chase. It's all a blur from there. You're not really supposed to chase after a dog -- they're much faster than people, especially me, and especially in the slipons I had been wearing for the pee break. But I didn't know what else to do. I hadn't really been prepared for this, I was running on pure adrenaline and fear. She was out in the street. I ran, stupidly, until an amazing dude pulled up in his car and helped me corral her. We got her at some person's doorstep, but all I had was that stupid, ill-fitting collar. I threw it over her but to no avail. This job was too big for my stupid ass. Back home, Mel was calling for help from the dog people. The dog wound up back at the complex. I saw her daring through out back greenspace. Okay, so she has some idea where she's supposed to be. Me and my new friend chased her all around, but unsurprisingly she proved elusive. Volunteers started showing up, neighborhood people pitched in, and the Dream Team, expert dog catchers, got involved despite their own personal issues.
It was already an instantaneous front-runner for the worst night of my life -- which, to be fair, is not such a bad thing, but doesn't feel good. Add to that, it's Victoria Day weekend, fireworks are going off all night, etc etc, creating a chaotic environment. It was like an extremely G-rated version of 'Nam.
There we are, after midnight, traipsing through people's backyards. At one point we had her cornered again, at a house in the complex, but we botched the capture. The next place she was seen was at the corner of Guelph and Upper Middle, from which point she could have been anywhere. The next sighting was at the complex across the road, and then the fire station down Upper Middle, so at least we had a direction of travel. We went by the school, walking through dewy grass with a dinky little flashlight (note to self: get a better flashlight.) At one point Mel and I both thought we heard panting, who knows if it's true. The search was called off around 2 AM.
I thought, how could we possibly go to bed like this, but the answer was, by being super fuckin' tired. It was late and I had expended more energy than I had in years running down this dog and then traipsing around the complex. I fell into a deep restless sleep, woke up at 6 AM remembering I had lost a dog the night before and fearful she had made it all the way up Guelph Line to, I don't know, Lowville or something. I rolled over and tried to maximize the amount of time I could spend in a netherworld where this wasn't happening.
The phone rang a little after 8. There had been a sighting -- the opposite direction of Lowville, what would be a 2.6 km (33 minute) walk for a human being, if they walked directly. Mel and I, before calling it quits the night before had been not quite there, but kind of in that direction, behind Augustine. But rather than face her down in the moment deep in the dark of night, I was grateful for the chance sighting early in the morning. It was the luckiest thing. We got there a few minutes later -- the Dream Team had already set up a perimeter and were working her over with treats, but she proved elusive. Finally, after two hours of a tense standoff, we rushed her into an enclosed parking lot nearby, got her in a net and got a trap lead on her.
After that, there was a bit of to-do about, who has a crate, who can transport her. We had the crate but couldn't fit in our car. It was determined that Pandora should never have gone to us: she was too much of a fight-or-flight risk and we didn't even have a fence around our backyard. This was not through any fault or deception of ours, and honestly, I don't even blame the rescue folks for thinking it could work. We all wanted what was best for her, and we just didn't realize how high needs the dog was until it was too late. They already knew where they should bring her, after the customary vet visit. I rushed back home with one of the Bark people to get Panny's personal effects
I'm not sure when it became clear that we couldn't keep her. Mel had wanted it to work, as had I, and she had expressed fear that she would be taken away from us as punishment. We were kind of on autopilot once the girl was secured, in a daze. I don't even know that Mel got to take one last look at her and say goodbye. I'm afraid to ask now. It was made clear that there was no punishment involved and they wanted to help us find a dog that was right for us.
We drove home still in that daze. I, for whatever reason, pointed out that gas had gone up but I had gotten some the day before (because we were supposed to go to Kitchener to see family today, but I had firmly said no, we aren't going, before going to bed that night -- Cameron and Brandon were the first to see.) Mel went upstairs to be alone for a while. I sat quietly, sending a few text messages to let people know that the situation had been resolved, and then cried.
One weird side effect was that it was all over the community Facebook groups. I didn't see much about it because I was busy, you know, living it, but today I saw someone say "What happened?" and someone else reply, "A foster dog got spooked by the fireworks and bolted." Which is not really what happened but it's not so far off from the truth that I need to correct it.
I hadn't wanted it to go this way; the last couple of years have been rough on us for getting things we want in life, and this just hurt. I mourned for myself, for what the dog had been through, and for Mel. We both shared our tears. I went to get us some shawarma -- which I should have just had delivered, I shouldn't have wanted to be away from Mel for so long -- and we had a quiet afternoon meal, although I wasn't particularly hungry despite everything. I brought the old TV upstairs so we could watch Back to the Future in bed (my idea that seemed to sound good to her) but she needed to nap before we even saw the DeLorean.
The whole affair was quietly traumatic, and triggered a lot of feelings about stuff we have been through with our infertility the last two years. I don't know when we're going to be able to get back to normal; Pandora was only with us for 11 hours and it feels strange to be back in my dog-free living room area. We were really ready for this to be life. It hurts.
