So, the dog is gone.
We all cried. We still feel sad. Both for her, and for ourselves. We wanted a dog, but after our experience with Lupin… it is not to be.
There will not be another dog. I think that ship, the one with our dog on it, has sailed.
It’s been just over a week now, since we took her back.
During that week I discovered that three of the seven pups in her litter have been returned to the rescue, because of similarly difficult-to-live-with traits. So Lupin is currently living with one of her brothers, which is a nice thought in a way, but sad for both dogs in reality.
I also discovered that the rescue are already advertising her for adoption, describing her as “good with other dogs and children over twelve”. Lad is thirteen. When we took Lupin back, I gave them two sides of A4 listing all of her problems. Right at the top was the problem of her ongoing aggression towards lad.
So I called to tell them, again, that she wasn’t good with children over twelve. Or men. Or strangers generally. But it seems that their one-day assessment of Lupin’s character trumps our nearly-six-months of living with her. They say they have seen no evidence of aggression. So that’s that.
The thought that another family may go through the same painful experience as us upsets me greatly, as does the thought of Lupin facing a third rejection, but having handed her back it seems there is nothing more I can do about it. And so I have had to breathe deeply and let go.
A week later, and I am still hoovering up dog hair and wondering what to do with the packets of dog treats in the cupboard.
I should be getting on with work, I have lots to do, but I seem to be stuck.
Inspiration is always sparse at this time of year, but it’s worse than that. I feel a bit panicky when I try to start work. Some of the work I have done has not, to my eye at least, been my best.
Our new neighbours are knocking through their kitchen at the moment and it is very noisy. The builders have managed to dislodge the plaster on our adjoining kitchen wall – chunks and dust come cascading down. But that’s no excuse.
I clean the house as displacement activity. I try to drag up some creativity from somewhere, but it appears to have gone into hibernation for the duration.
It’s not because of the dog, I think. It’s just the winter, dragging on. It seems, like me, to be stuck. It afflicts me every year, this dark period after Christmas. I need to get stuck in, but instead I get stuck in a time warp.
Roll on spring. ♥
Been kind to yourself – it is a very difficult thing you have done – a really hard decision to come to. After lots of family sickness in January and falling over and breaking my wrist, I am utterly sick of the sight of winter – all my hopes and plans for the start of the year to sew and sell and get fit all flew out of the window! So, I am trying to pick myself up and make plans for spring by sowing seeds. I think cleaning can actually be cathartic – well, it is for me. Rather than wallowing in my own filth, I feel that I am making head space by clearing and cleaning. Anyway, take care of yourself. The things you create are a constant source of joy and inspiration for the rest of us (insert a warm hug here) x
Thank you for your lovely comment.
I hope the wrist heals soon and that all your seeds germinate.xx
It is sad when things like that don’t work out, my MIL volunteered for over a decade with a dog rescue and sometimes it just doesn’t work out through no-one’s fault. Well done for taking that deep breath and letting it go.
I’m sad that you feel so traumatised by your experience that you won’t consider another dog, not even a smaller, less exuberant, strong and self-willed personage. But you did the right thing for yourselves and for Lupin, who couldn’t be allowed to rule the roost in that way. I also feel aghast that another family may be put through the same wringer because the rescue centre won’t listen to you. I do hope that some time soon the pall of sadness and loss of motivation will lift, and you’ll rediscover the person who created all those charming creatures.
It’s not so much that we’re traumatised, more that a) my partner won’t even consider having another dog after what this one put us through, having not wanted this one in the first place (we have not seen eye to eye over dog-related issues.) And also that b) even if I could persuade him to have another go, we have lost faith in being able to count on finding a dog that doesn’t turn out to be as problematic as Lupin. Our experience has taught me that problematic dogs are not by any means an unusual occurrence.
I also do not trust rescue organisations after our experience with this one. Again, this does not seem to be unusual. Whilst I understand them wanting to give the dog the best chance of finding a new home, I think they were not honest with us when we adopted Lupin, and they are not being honest now.
Feel the sadness but don’t feel guilt. You know that dog better than the rescue centre and you gave her a lot of time and love. My partner and I don’t see eye to eye on the dog thing. I persuaded him once and we had a lovely dog. Unfortunately he developed an inoperable cancer and then he was gone. I had my one chance. I understand his point of view and respect it entirely. We look after a relatives dog when they are away so I get a couple of weeks a year that I have a dog. Is there someone you can do a bit of dog timeshare with?! Anyway, I warn my partner, if he ups and leaves one day, the moment he leaves the house I will get a dog in, so he had better decide make sure it’s not just a whim or a crisis!
Rest and keep well.
Thanks Jo. Before we had Lupin I was registered on Borrow My Doggy and I will be looking for a dog to look after on a part-time basis, which used to suit me well. I am sorry you can’t have another dog, and even sorrier to hear what happened with your lovely dog. x