May we begin this blog post with a moment of silence honoring the servitude of the former ruler of this house, Lady Lola, who was dethroned last night.
Meet Walrus (aka Wally, aka Sir Walrus the Third, aka Uncle Wally):
Yes, it’s true, we brought home a second pooch last night. Our search began about a month ago for a very specific animal, who despite our very best efforts, we were unable to find after personally meandering through every single local animal shelter. My hope for him is that some other lucky family got to that hound before we ever could. While we were on that
manhunt doghunt, I became so personally affected by all of the battle stories of some of these shelter dogs, that it became an obsession, searching the shelters and trying to find the animal that would fit into our lives and whose story was, to me, worth changing the ending (please note that if I did not have the tiny bit of self control that I have, this house would have been TURNED INTO a shelter by now, because all of those neglected dogs deserve a happy ending). I’m going to continue to believe that thanks to dozens of selfless volunteers (who place more importance on the life of an animal than the clarity of their carpet) all of these pets will find their happy ending. Here are some story beginnings that I know of for now:
Several dogs are left behind because their owners have had children, yet the shelter volunteers, after spending more time with the dogs than their former owners probably did, swear that the dog would have made an excellent companion to a growing family. (My question is, why would you get an animal if your future plans involve children and you feel that dog + child is a bad combination? At what point did society start believing that getting a LIVING animal was a temporary or disposable pleasure and once they are no longer puppies, they are to be dumped at the nearest shelter? Or worse…)
Several other dogs (BEAUTIFUL, breeder-bought dogs) were left behind after an owner passed away. (This story breaks my heart… where were the kids/grandkids/neighbors/cleaning ladies/nurses/grocery baggers in this person’s life?? Shouldn’t it be the responsibility of family or friends to care for the surviving animals once a person has passed?? This is my promise that as soon as a pet owner in my family kicks the bucket, your dog has a home with me. I’ll even take your cat.)
One beautiful, and far too young, mama beagle was caged beside her son. Mama was found, pregnant as the day is long, and rushed to the clinic. She delivered her puppies in the car. After a whole year, mama and son remain in the shelter to this day, never separated. (Who knows her whole story. She could’ve been a stray, but judging by her very young age, she was probably an unwanted puppy that was running around with the wrong crowd and ended up in the backseat of some mutt’s clunker and before you know it, she was dropping babies in another backseat.)
And then we found our Wally (ahem, Sir Walrus the Third/Uncle Wally). Wally is a 9 week Bassett/Beagle mix (can’t wait to see how he looks when he grows up, because he is a total wild card!) who, along with his sister Marti, were dropped of, IN A BOX, IN FEBRUARY, IN THE MIDWEST(!!!!!!) at Wal Mart when they were just 4 weeks old (by the vet’s best estimation). In case you failed to grasp my point, it’s frickin cold in the midwest in February, and it was likely snowing. Who knows how long those frozen hounds were stuck out there, barely enough body fat on their newborn bodies to keep them alive, let alone warm. Some good soul found the box and called Pet Refuge who immediately came and brought the dogs home. This is like that Natalie Portman movie about the Wal Mart baby only WAY SADDER!!! Hence their Pet Refuge-given names of Wally and Marti.
I am happy to say that we found out last night, several families expressed interest in Marti at the last adoption night, so she will be on her way home in no time.
Since Wally had already been living with a foster parent (who shall forever be referred to as Saint Sarah around these parts), and responding to the name “Wally”, we decided it was in his best interest to keep the name. It seemed to work. And we liked it. We did, however, think it needed just a slight upgrade, since we didn’t want it to be short for WalMart anymore. We love him so much already, and he and Lola have become fast friends (and rough housing partners, which was exactly our hope for the two) and he fits into our family and our hearts in a place we didn’t know was empty.
He is the Walrus. Goo goo, goo’joob.