Once upon a time...

Once upon a time there was a blue-eyed puppy. An adorable little stray, it wandered the streets of Georgia through rain and shine, mud and grass. Then one day, the fluffy-furred puppy was spotted by a local woman driving along the road. The dog-loving woman got out of the car, and took the dog to the local shelter in the hopes that its owners would come get it. After all, who would leave such a beautiful dog out in the wild?

But in the week after the dog had been picked up by animal control, no one came for the puppy. Instead, it sat in a crate at the local shelter, wondering what had happened to it. The woman would call every few days to see if the dog had been claimed yet, but no one did. Then the ladies at the shelter told the woman something that made her heart stop: They were full and had been euthanizing animals all week. Although she couldn't say for sure, chances were likely the little blue-eyed puppy would be one of them soon.

I think you all know how this fairytale continues. The dog-loving woman, a.k.a me, somehow decided that because she had picked up the dog, she would be responsible if it got put down. So it seemed only logical that she, or I, was now in charge of saving the poor stray. I called every humane society in the area, begged and pleaded with friends, and finally realized that the only way I could rescue this dog from a definitely unhappy ending would be to take it home myself and adopt it out.


Now for those of you who are not quite aware of my domestic situation, please know that this decision was one possibly bordering on insane. Not only do we have two rescues already, we have two teenage boys, we each have a full-time job, and I'm a few weeks away from going on a five-week long study abroad program to China. Was the decision smart, logical, and sensible? No. Did I do it anyway? Of course.

On Friday, the day before they were allegedly going to put the dog down, I drove down to the local shelter, paid $20, decided on the spot to name the pooch "Wednesday" (after the day of the week I found her), and took the blue-eyed dog home with me. I would love to tell you that our dogs loved Wednesday, and husband-dear's skepticism melted like snow when he saw Wednesday, but I can't. Our dogs, although not mean or hateful, were definitely less than thrilled, and Wednesday's incessant need for petting, and continuous panting drove husband-dear up the wall (and me too, but don't tell him I said that).

On Saturday, Dixiechick started on her semi-well thought out "adopt-a-dog" scheme. It started with a mandatory trip to the vet. The good news was that Wednesday is actually a full-bred Australian Shepherd. There. Take that previous owners! The bad news was that Wednesday tested positive for heart worms. For all my European friends out there: heart worms are bad. They're little parasites transferred to dogs through mosquito bites, that will, if not treated on time, literally "worm" their way into a dog's heart, and through enthusiastic reproduction, eventually kill it. Fortunately, Wednesday had not gotten that bad yet, although it did explain the panting. And luckily my vet, who is the coolest vet on the planet, gave me the first months' worth of medicine for free, and agreed to provide the rest at cost. I almost cried. Actually, I definitely cried. And I may have hugged the poor guy.

The second stop in my "adopt-a-dog" plan was PetSmart. Saturdays at PetSmart, at least here in Georgia, are adoption days. Days when all the local humane societies descend on the pet store with all of their adoptable dogs and cats, in the hopes that someone will take some of the abandoned animals off their hands. This step did not go well either. None of the humane societies were able to help me. None. One couldn't help because Wednesday was heart worm positive ("we don't adopt out sick dogs, even if your vet has agreed to work with the adopting family"). The other four were full, and had waiting lists. Yes, people. Humane societies have waiting lists. Apparently, people in this neck of the woods are so desperate to get rid of their animals, they will happily sign up for a spot on the waitlist. I got the names and numbers of several other humane societies who may be able to help, but no one was very hopeful.

With my heart somewhere in my shoes, I walked out of the store, not sure what to do next, when someone said, "Hey! Look at that pretty dog!"
I looked around, and realized that the person who was now petting Wednesday was actually a friend from church.
"Is this your dog?" She asked.
"Sort of." I explained Wednesday's life story so far, and my friend responded almost dreamily, "I've always wanted an Australian shepherd."
"You do?" Suddenly, life looked promising.

To make a long story short, later that night, Wednesday was picked up by her owners, who were tickled pink to have such a pretty and sweet dog as theirs. Pictures posted on Facebook show Wednesday as happy and beautiful as I have ever seen her.

In this case, the fairy tale has a happy ending.
In many cases, for many dogs and cats, it doesn't.
Our local shelter picks up close to 5000 animals per year. There are three shelters like it in our county. Only about a tenth of those get adopted. That means that thousands of animals are euthanized each year. Animals whose only mistake, in most cases, was ending up with the wrong people.
So I have a request for you. Actually three.
First, think before you get a pet. Dogs can live to be fifteen years old, and little puppies grow up. That six pound cutie you're holding at the pet store or at the local shelter will grow up, and might turn into an 80-pound canine who will live to a ripe old age of 16. It may tear up your curtains, your bedspread, or even your favorite shoes. It's a huge commitment. So consider that.
Second, whenever you don't know what to ask for your birthday, or mother's day, or Christmas, or your bar mitzah, or whatever holiday comes your way, think about your shelter. Many of them get limited to no government funding, and they really need your help. You can donate money, time, old towels and sheets.
And finally, don't abandon your dog just because it doesn't suit your life anymore. The dog deserves better than that. Dogs may not be humans, but they have feelings too.