You know how sometimes you imagine different scenes happening in your head? I do that all the time. I imagine what might be said in a phone call I'm excited about making. I imagine what might be said when I know I have to go talk to my boss. Mostly, these scenes run through my head and are nothing like what really ends up happening. Mostly, they occur, and I'm not even consciously thinking about them. They just sort of play, like a bizarre nonsensical movie.

This morning, in the shower, I was thinking about work. I had strange dreams about work last night. And in the little movie playing in my brain, I imagined our dog trainer at work, Karen, telling me, "We're putting Logan to sleep."

"No!" my imaginary self said. "He doesn't need that. He'll go to a sanctuary. Or someone's home. He does not need to be euthanized!"

I have no idea why I was even thinking about it. But Shelly and I did offer to drive him to any sanctuary in the country. We'd gladly take him wherever he was accepted. We both love Logan. We're only a handful of staff members who do.

I got dressed after my shower, and sat down at my computer to see if anyone had called. There was a message from work. Why would someone from work call me on my day off? Immediately, I thought there had been a schedule change and people were pissed at me for not being there. I listened to the message, and this is what it said:

"Hey Meghan, it's Josh. I'm calling with some bad news. Um, Logan's being euthanized today. There have been a number of incidents, and it's just getting worse, and the euthanasia committee decided it was time for him to go. So, uh, it's going to happen pretty soon, I think. It's 12 now. I'm just letting everyone who's not here know... And uh, that's it, I guess. Bye."

I was in tears the second I heard "bad news" and "Logan" so close in context. I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I go down there? Would it be too hard? I cried for a little while, feeling pressured, practically hearing time tick by, knowing I was running out of it. I almost called my mom for advice, but then I paused. I asked myself, what do I really want? And immediately, I knew I had to go down there. I wasn't going to go if he was going to be gone by the time I arrived, though. That would be too hard. So since the office is closed today, I called the vet hospital instead. Twice, the line hung up on me. I paced a little while longer, and then picked up the phone again. This time, someone answered. It was the vet. I was doing okay for part of the conversation, but I started crying again when I asked if there was time for me to come say good-bye to Logan. She said there was, that she'd let them know I was coming to spend some time with him. She is really cool. Even after all her years as a vet, and dealing with people who lose animals they love, she isn't jaded or fake. Her caring voice is genuine. She makes people feel reassured in the hardest of times. What a difficult job...

I yanked on my shoes and left a tear-filled message on Shelly's cell phone. I don't really remember what I said. Just that Logan was being put down, that I was going to see him, and that she should call if she wanted to see him too. It wasn't as succinct as that, though. It was weird and rambly and scattered, which is exactly how my brain felt. I just wanted her to know.

I grabbed some tissues, my work keys, my sweatshirt, and purse and took off. I tried really hard not to cry while I was driving, but it was difficult. I cried a little as I thought about him...

It's been a long and bumpy road for Logan. There were arguments on whether or not to euthanize him from the moment he got there. He was a backyard dog for seven years. The couple got divorced. The ex-wife got the house with the yard, and told the husband who loved the dog that he better get rid of Logan. The man, now living in an apartment, brought Logan to us. When he heard the vet staff had a lot of difficulties with him and that we weren't sure if we could keep him, he wanted to euthanize Logan. Then staff got involved. People were already attached to him. Then the man changed his mind and offered to send money on a regular basis for Logan's medical bills, and we decided to give him a chance. But no one wanted him. And there were a few incidents. Logan grabbed a few staff members, and a dog who had just been neutered. Male dogs who have just been neutered give off a rather strong scent of testosterone to other dogs, and most male dogs respond rather negatively to it. Logan grabbed the dog, held on for 5 minutes as he tried to wrestle him to the ground and the other dog tried to run away. The other dog? Didn't need one stitch. Logan could have killed him, and this dog didn't even need a single stitch. Logan has amazing bite inhibition. He knows, at least to some extent, the strength of his jaws.

His former owner used his own arm as Logan's personal chew toy, wrestling with him, letting encouraging Logan to chew on him. The only way Logan knows how to communicate is by using his mouth. (It's amazing the ridiculous things people do with their dogs, and they have no idea that they're ruining their animals...) The few times he's gotten pissed off, he grabbed employees. And only one person even had a mark. That mark was a really bad bruise. It looked painful, for sure. But he has never broken the skin. And there were about four other people he grabbed and didn't even leave a tooth mark. He's not dangerous.

But sadly, he's not adoptable either. His best bet was to go to a sanctuary and none of them would take him. I'm upset, though, because I don't know how many were contacted. It feels like staff said, "We want to look into sanctuaries," and the euthanasia committee was quick to give up on him before we had a chance of finding one who would accept him. The decision to euthanize was just made SO soon after we said we'd start looking at sanctuaries. I feel like the Powers That Be gave up and don't really care...

My heart raced as I got closer, but I took deep breaths and kept going.

No one saw me the entire way back to Logan's kennel. I didn't know if he was there or in the hospital or what. And then I saw him, his sweet face peeking out at me from inside his kennel. "Hey sweetie," I said and burst into tears all over again. I pet his head, his ears, and his chin between the bars. "I'll be right back, Logan," I told him, and headed into the kitchen for some doggie treats. Renni was in the kitchen when I got there, and oddly enough said, "I thought you hated Logan."

"No," I said.

"Oh you're one of the ones who... okay," she finished as I nodded. One of the ones who loves him. One of the ones who ISN'T afraid of him. One of the ones who would have driven anywhere, any time to get him someplace safe to live out his days. One of the ones who was rooting for him from the moment he became part of our shelter.

Renni handed me a couple of chunks of sausage on my way out to spend time with Logan. She said she'd give me some time with him, before she had to take him to the hospital. She was really cool about asking if I'd had the time I wanted, etc. I appreciate all her kind gestures towards me today. I appreciate that she understood how I felt.

In Logan's kennel, he devoured the sausage immediately. But that's Logan. I scratched his back and his chest, I hugged his back and cried into his fur. I pet him all over his face, and I kissed his head a couple of times. He didn't kiss me, but that wouldn't be like him, anyway. He did gaze at me with those big brown eyes a few times. He did lie down in front of me, so I could scratch his belly. He nuzzled into my stomach a few times, and he grabbed my hands a few times, too, because that's all he knows. He thought we were going on a walk once or twice, too, and bombarded the door, scratching at it excitedly. I kept having to remind him to come back and be calm. He's a dufus dog. He always has been. And I love him for all that he is. I love that he looked at me like that, his happy goofy self, that sweet look in his eyes. I'm glad he didn't seem the least bit sad or tired. He was just the same ole Logan he's always been with us.

I told him I was sorry over and over.

I cried.

And I said good-bye.

I had to throw cheese for him so I could get out of the kennel. He really wanted to go out for a walk! But walking him is always frustrating for me, so I'm glad we didn't do that. I'm glad I just spent some time alone with him, in his kennel. I'm happy I kissed him. I'm happy I got to say good-bye.

Driving home, I didn't cry at all. I felt tired, and worn out, but filled with a sense of peace. He's leaving this world his happy, goofy self, filled with sausage, cheese and valium to calm him. And people who love him spent time with him today. People who love him gave him extra treats, extra hugs and kisses. And he has no idea why we've all got tears in our eyes. He's just happy to be a dog. A big, goofy, sweet dog...