Hi everyone. Hope this finds all of you well. I sometimes wonder whether it’s even proper for me to write here anymore, as I am not officially a tripawd mommy any longer.
Ray is still with me, though, and that is something I can’t ignore. Had a good cry about him tonight, the first one in awhile. I think it’s because we are in that adoption process again and it all takes me back to that wonderful moment when Ray and I first set eyes on each other.
First things first: Monty, our 2 year old Golden adopted in September, has been a lively and welcome addition to the family. Emphasis on lively! With a major guilt cloud lurking overhead, I keep thinking how great it is to have a healthy, strong dog in the house. Monty is playful, happy and very joyful. It is our nightly challenge to wear him out enough before bedtime, and that’s a great thing.
Our love of having multiple dogs, coupled with our feeling that Monty would benefit from a slightly older sibling, has resulted in us looking to adopt a second dog. I have sort of latched onto the prospect of a male chocolate lab. Call me focused, or something.
At any rate, going through the entire rescue adoption thing has reminded me how easy it was with Ray. I instantly liked his smile in the online photo. We went to the meet-n-greet event, and I took to him immediately. I remember the foster couple looking at each other and smiling and nodding in agreement that we would be a good fit for Ray. It was that simple.
The chocolate lab we’ve been matched with is experiencing compound health problems. He was plucked from the shelter by the rescue group and has so far been nursed through heartworm treatment and a bad respiratory condition. We received a call tonight that he’s now struggling with tummy issues. The foster sounds upbeat but sometimes you start to wonder. And think back.
Adopting a dog is not usually easy, I know. Ray set the bar so highly for me, though. And sometimes I curse that perfect, wonderful, lovable dog so much for it. It’s doubtful that I will ever love a dog as much as I loved him, but maybe that’s not the point here. The older I get, the more I realize that in most situations, it’s not about me. Ray wasn’t the first bundle of unhealthy dog we’d had and he probably won’t be the last. But darn it, I miss him.