Yesterday, I wrote about the dog and the walks we have. Given that we live together, it’s a topic from time to time. We take two walks a day – every day. Quite often, they’re short walks because it’s cold and windy here for five or six months of the year. Because the roads were icy and the wind chills were in the twenties, all I wanted to do was get the walk over and done with. At some point during our walk, as I pulled his leash and urged him to “just come on already” or implored, “that’s your pee from yesterday that you’re sniffing, let’s go” I remembered back to walking another dog. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember ever wanting to hurry those walks along as much as I do now.
Unbeknownst to me at the time of yesterday’s writing, on March 10, 2020, I wrote a very similar post about this other dog that I cared for:
Very briefly I had a pupper in my life. Zelle was an absolute goof and would also “woo woo woo.” I loved coming home and playing tug-of-war with her and going on our family walks. The plan when I moved down here was to settle in to a house and get a rescue dog.
That was written when I was living in Memphis, and yes, the plan was to buy a house in the Cooper-Young section of the city and get a rescue pit bull. Almost exactly a year later (2021), I was living in a different state, had adopted my pup, and wrote a few posts about him. I’m not surprised that there would be occasional overlaps in subject matter (dogs) – I repeat myself all the time. But, I do wonder if I’m prone to thinking about certain things at certain times of the year. The coincidence of revisiting my experience with Zelle almost exactly three years apart (one time well-before I had a dog and one time after) seemed odd. Do things like the sunlight or temperatures subconsciously trigger memories or certain behaviors?
…
I suppose the big news (sorry for burying the lede) is that yesterday I filed a form to give my dog up for adoption. It’s been hard to look at his sad dog eyes and not feel awful about this decision. I felt the gut-punch sadness of it twice: once when I filed the form and again when the shelter responded saying they would help find a home for him. Somehow, my knowing and him being unsuspecting makes it feel worse or cruel. Pity, at times, felt like contempt.
For a few months, I’ve known I would probably have to do this. I’ve been putting it off because it’s sad and unpleasant. I’ve been putting it off because sometimes I look at him and think maybe we can find a way to make it work (socialize him to other dogs, etc.). I’ve been putting it off because I’m tired of loss and change. I’ve been putting it off because I’ve felt abandoned by people in my life and have built much of my self-image around the notion that I don’t give up on people (or animals)… that I’m the reliable one who will always be there. And in the putting off, I’ve been forced to look deeply at the notion that sometimes things just aren’t a good fit, sometimes people have to leave behind things they love. I walk through the “if only” statements. I try to tell myself he might be better off, and that it’s my ego that makes this hard. Nevertheless, I feel like I’m letting him down or failing him.
I know I’ll be moving from State College in the coming months. I’m most likely moving to a city, probably San Francisco/Oakland but maybe San Diego or Seattle or LA. If I don’t have a new job lined up (which I don’t), I’m looking at driving around the country for a bit (don’t know if it’s for days or weeks). Given the way the housing market has gone, there are few cities where I can afford a house, and I don’t think I want to live in the suburbs (at least not at first). As good a dog as my dog is, I don’t think my new life on the road or in the city will be a good fit for him. He doesn’t seem to do well with other dogs, and I don’t think he would do well in the cramped quarters of a city. I had adopted him hoping to get that really friendly dog who loves everyone and everything: road trips, running free, playing with other dogs at the outside bar, or just chilling. That’s not my pup. In the outside world, he doesn’t sit still very well and he doesn’t seem to like other dogs (or cats) very much. I’m guessing he had a pretty rough life before I got him. I’m pretty sure he was abused and I suspect he had to fend for himself a bit (he was found malnourished and wandering around a parking lot). Given his temperament, I can’t imagine trying to control him on a city sidewalk as another dog passes within a few feet of us. I’ve tried to desensitize him to other dogs (we walk by them at the park or in the neighborhood) and it’s still very much hit or miss. He’s met other dogs up-close three times, and two of them were fights, the third, he was starting to growl and getting aggressive. But even if that could be addressed (I’m ever the optimist), I’m having trouble finding apartments that allow pets, and when they do, it’s usually only small pets.
Because it feels like it’s the responsible and least disruptive thing to do for the dog, I’ve offered to “foster” my dog through the process. He’ll continue to live with me until we can find a suitable home for him. This is a pattern with me. I tend to stay in relationships longer than I should and I tend to want soft landings for all involved. I’m not a rip the band-aid off type of guy. I tend to believe that sitting with discomfort (often through transitions) is somehow more honest to the self. It’s partially why I haven’t been able to enter into a committed relationship for the past four years. I’ve been doing a lot of sitting. But I can’t rule out that doing so is just a way to sooth my ego into feeling morally superior or somehow justified in my way of doing things. Sometimes, I wonder if ripping the band-aid off takes less of an emotional toll and is the more honest and just way to go. You know, bullet to the head type of execution.
Change like this is hard… maybe not for everyone, but it is for me. I’m a believer in second and third chances. For the most part, I’m a practitioner of patience. Sometimes, I believe I should stick it out until I get it right or an agreeable solution appears. I may rush towards pleasure and joy, and even then, I’ve been trying to learn to walk slowly. I tend to wait out discomfort. I believe that with enough patience, understanding, and practice, there’s usually time for things to improve. In times of conflict or turmoil, I ascribe to the belief that sometimes, the best action is inaction… let’s see how things play out. Maybe this is all just a way of avoiding making hard decisions and trying to minimize regrets. Leaving is never easy.