Sweet Boy, This One is for You

I don't think I will ever forgive myself, despite it being an impossible situation. And perhaps there is some small redemption in giving him a bit of immortality, both in our memories and in print.

Long story short, I had to surrender a dog two years ago. He'd been with us since he was a pup, and he was four years old at the time. A big galoot, full of love, so muscle-bound that his butt never actually reached the floor, Dunkin' Donuts was 75 pounds of energy and devotion.

He was also aggressive with an older dog of ours, an omega male who would never challenge Dunkin' - not over food, position on the bed, nothing. It happened infrequently, with no apparent trigger, but when it did, our sweet old Magellan would be injured, with more and more severity.

My husband actually fractured his hand trying to stop Dunkin' from attacking one day.

Had I known what I do now, that shelters were at over-capacity, that even the purported no-kill shelters were putting down dozens of dogs each week, I would have never have surrendered him. I tried for weeks to find someone who would take him as I waited for a spot to open up at the local no-kill shelter. And after, for 39 days, I would check the shelter website each day, gaze at his goofy face and hope someone would walk in and fall in love with him.

That didn't happen.

One day, his picture was gone. I called, asked if he had been adopted, and was told after a rather odd pause, that he had been.

It wasn't true.

I would learn from a friend who knew some of the volunteers there that he had been put down the day before I called. I don't blame the poor volunteer who answered the phone and lied to me. I think that, honestly, they were trying to be kind.

If anything good came from it, it was this. After my rather public post in the aftermath of learning my sweet boy had been put down, the no-kill shelter clarified quite clearly how dire their situation was due to overcrowding, and began to no longer hide the fact that, yes, despite being a "no-kill" they were putting down healthy dogs to make room for other dogs who might actually have a chance at being adopted. It doesn't make it right, but it makes it a little more understandable.

COVID changed our world in many ways. But the lockdowns led to a surge in pet adoptions that was then followed by a surge in pet surrenders when the world came back out of lockdown. It is a trend that will continue for another 5-10 years when you consider that dogs can live upwards of 15 years.

The grief and guilt I felt... it continues to haunt me. I doubt I will ever forgive myself for taking my sweet boy to his death. He was loyal and loving. He was patient and strong. If the attacks had not continued, and escalated in viciousness each time, he would still be with us, of that I am sure. And if I had known what would happen to him, I would have found a way, somehow, some way, to keep them apart.

And perhaps this is a sad story that you didn't expect or want to read today, but all I can hope for is a small amount of redemption in the short story I finished editing yesterday for G581: Plague Tales II... Man's Best Friend. When the time comes for the colonists of Zarmina's World to leave, to flee back to Earth, what happens to the dogs and cats they produced in artificial wombs and grew to love? Space is limited, so is food. What choice would you make in order to save your best friend?

In my writing, Dunkin' gets to live again. He gets to spend his days knowing he is loved, which is, after all, all I ever wanted for him. Call it an apology, an impossible wish to remake what cannot be remade. It is what it is.

I miss you boy. I really do.