Monday, December 15, 2008

Poochie of My Heart

We are absolutely heartbroken.
Heartbroken, to the point of tears, about our beloved dog, Katie.

Four years ago, there was an idiot that worked at my company. He was allegedly a sales manager, but he sat in his office all day and either played "Whack-a-mole" on his computer or invented new ways to secretly sleep (my favorite, with the phone propped up against his shoulder and cowboy boots on the desk).
Not surprisingly, this idiot had an equally idiotic girlfriend. And this woman one day brought to the office an adorable little pumpkin-colored puppy. This puppy. Oh, God. I picked her up and she snuffled into my neck and made piggy noises. And the smell of puppy breath. Delicious.
This idiotic woman was on the way to take this puppy to the pound because her 3 12-year-old schnauzers didn't like it. How she couldn't foresee this eventuality... idiot, idiot, idiot.

Normally, I would think that this adorable puppy had a chance at the pound before the timer dings and the lethal injection gets primed. But this puppy was a pit bull. And this is New Mexico.
She was so soft with such a wonderfully tubby tummy. I couldn't stand the idea of her becoming some gangster chulo's dog, hunting chihuahuas. Or her being trained to fight other dogs, living out her days in a tiny cage filled with her own shit.

So, I brought her home.

In the beginning, she was perfect. She was so loving and funny. She adored Doggy Day Care and romping with the other puppies. She was housebroken in less than 24 hours and rarely chewed up anything important.
But then she got older. And she was soon a 70 pound freight train, knocking over any guest that come through the front door with her desperate need for attention and love, love, love. 
We got a trainer, we spent hundreds of dollars to work this through, but she continued to be a freight train. When people come over, we lock her away.
Then the dog attacked her. And this puppy who loved other puppies, suddenly became terrified of them. And her terror manifests itself as a snarling beast.
We got a trainer, we spent hundreds of dollars to work this through, but she continued to be a snarling beast. When dogs are around, we lock her away.

But this dog of ours... she continues to be the most loving dog we've ever known. She sits on our feet, wedges her head between our knees, gives kisses on command; all in an attempt to be close to us, to melt into us.
And all of that is sweet and wonderful... unless the dog is 70 pounds and your premature baby is 
barely 8 pounds. 
There have been... incidents.

My husband and I have looked at each other and looked at Katie and made the hard decision. We have to find her a new home. And yes, we have cried, huge crocodile tears, at the idea of our home without The Snugglebutt. The sweetest , most loving dog we have ever known.

Wanted: One willing dog owner. Must be willing to make sacrifices: namely your humility when people visit your home and any dignity at the veterinarian's office. You must be willing to own no  other dogs, cats, or children... basically, no other small mammals of any kind. 
You must also be willing to share your bed, sofa, and heart with a solidly packed lump of love. You must be willing to accept wet kisses and slobbery tennis balls. You must be willing to accept unconditional love. 
Let me know if you are interested.


Vanessa said...

I'm so sorry to hear about your dog. I know how that feels. I wish I could help but I do not know if I will be staying in the country past the next 6 months. Good luck to you and your pooch!

Anonymous said...

i think i could be fit for this she-dog of yours, becouse i live alone & i am in deswperate need to love & be loved, but i live in Spain, far far away from you.