Month: January 2010

Adios, Chico


My big black dog Chico is gone. I drove him to the Willamette Humane Society shelter in Salem on Saturday and “surrendered” him. Now I can only hope and pray that a wonderful family adopts him and enjoys his loving personality until he’s an old dog with a gray muzzle. Ironically, this was Chico’s 23-month birthday. We almost made it to two years.

He was eager to go for a ride, but as the curves piled one on another during our two-hour journey, he rested his head against the back of the car seat with an expression that said I don’t feel too good, but I will endure. As I drove, I pet his soft fur, felt his massive paws against my thigh and tried not to cry. He had been an angel lately, obeying every command, looking for what I wanted him to do next. He lay his big head on my knee while I worked and put up with wearing a leash every time he went out. I could not help but notice that he appeared to be better looking, more loving, and more obedient than his sister Annie, whom I am keeping. If only Chico hadn’t learned to jump so high that no fence could keep him in. If only he hadn’t tried to kill other dogs. If only my chubby wide-eyed puppy hadn’t gotten so big that he could easily pull me off my feet. I had spent the last five weeks trying to find someone who would take him. Everyone was leery of his size and his half pit bull heritage.

A young woman took him away as soon as I got to the counter. “Bye, honey,” I said, barely able to speak. That was the last I would see of him. The Humane Society will not give updates on what is happening with dogs that have been surrendered. He’s not mine anymore. I feel as if I have totally betrayed him, but I know I had no choice. With everything else that’s going on, with my husband in a nursing home and no one to help me with these big dogs, I had to let him go.

The Willamette Humane Society is a large property with lots of space for dogs to run and play. It was jammed on Saturday with people looking for pets and a Girl Scout troop on tour. The woman who went over my paperwork assured me that they have good luck finding families for surrendered animals. Last year 600 were adopted. She knew it was hard, but I shouldn’t worry about Chico, she said.

Oh, but it hurt to walk out alone. I drove to an empty lot outside a nearby construction warehouse and sobbed. I cried all the way to Philomath, where I bought myself an ice cream cone at Dairy Queen. Vanilla dipped in chocolate. A childlike reward for doing something so painful.

By the time I returned to South Beach, it was dark. I stopped at the Post Office and took down Chico’s poster, tossing it into the recycle bin, then went home to begin life as a duo, just Annie and me. She climbed into my lap, licked my face, and sighed.

And they float, too, like Ivory soap

It was amazing. There I was all dressed up in my new second-hand blazer and black slacks, visiting the restroom at the Sweet Waters Restaurant in Albany. I was on my way to spend some time with Fred at the nursing home before going on to Salem to teach my first class of the quarter at Chemeketa Community College. Ms. important, carrying her cell phone in her pocket lest she miss a call.

And then, all of a sudden, I heard something drop. Into the water. Yes, my cell phone. As I saw it floating, green lights glowing on the screen, I laughed. Of all the disasters I might have expected that day, I would never have expected that. Nor would I have expected that after I got the phone somewhat dried off with paper seat covers, it rang. Yes, there in the pink bathroom stall. It was an important call that I had been waiting for, and I subsequently became one of those people we hate who talk talk talk on their cell phones in the middle of a restaurant. My food, the post-holiday diet plate, came, and I just stared at it as I talked. Food, schmood, I had business to take care of.

Much later, when Fred and I were touring the local Petco, squeezing the dog toys and watching a turtle calmly eat a curl of lettuce, my phone rang again. I retreated into the depths of the cat food for a work call.

On Jan. 1, Oregon’s new law prohibiting hand-held use of cell phones while driving went into effect. I bought a do-hickey to stick in my ear, but I haven’t mastered the use of it yet. The only time I relaxed on the hour-and-a-half drive to the Willamette Valley was on that section of Highway 20 with no cell phone reception. No service? Ah, free at last from the phone. Crank up the radio. And then, as I approached the Burnt Woods store, the phone chimed. It was back in service, and I had a message. I parked at the store, listened to my voicemail, called the person back, left a message on her voicemail.

I think we’re all becoming seriously demented these days and not in the way the folks at my husband’s nursing home are. We need something electronic going at all times. Silence scares us.

It’s something to ponder, along with how my phone survived its swim in the toilet. Is there a five-second rule for soaked cell phones? They float pretty well, although I don’t advise trying it.

Happy New Year!

It’s a new year, a new decade, and I feel filled with hope for the future. Even though we drag our old problems past midnight into the next day, week, month and year, I feel as if 2010 brings a chance to start fresh.

For those who are following the dog saga, Chico is back in the kennel until I can find a shelter that will take him. I swear he’s sweet and lovable in normal times. If I’m sitting in my office and call him, he’ll come trotting in from wherever he is and rest his chin in my lap. He’s eager to please. But outside, he keeps jumping the fences, and he has proven that he can’t get along with other dogs. Last Tuesday, he went after a visiting dog and got both him and me with his teeth. We’ll both live, but it was scary. My old dog didn’t get along with other animals either, but she rarely met them face to face; we were able to control her whereabouts. Not so with Chico. He’s in exile, and Annie is with me. Enough on that subject.

We got a break from the rain today, and I can even see some blue sky up there. Around these parts, when the sun makes an appearance, we drop everything and go outside. Annie and I took a walk and played with her big stick–and proved that young knees work a lot better than aging ones. I’m working hard to train her more consistently so that her bully genes don’t cause any problems like the ones mentioned above.

Tonight I play the vigil Mass for the Epiphany–the Feast of the Three Kings. Once more through the Christmas songs. When I finished practicing this afternoon, I rocked out on some old 60s songs. Boy, it was fun. It’s a new year, and I’m ready to jam.

I’ve got my Christmas decorations down and my calendars up, and I’m ready for the new year. My resolutions? Just to get those things done that I kept putting off last year and to count my blessings instead of my injuries. How about you? Any resolutions?

Thanks for reading me this last year. We’ll venture into new territory each week, usually on Thursdays. I look forward to exploring my world with you.