Things were going fairly well yesterday. That is, after the completely insane cat customer left. Jesus H. Christ, was she nuts! The power trippy girl who'd been bossing me around the other day was perfectly pleasant and easy to talk to. Back to her old, nice self, it seems. All three of us worked well together, got stuff done quickly and efficiently, cooperated peacefully, and had fun chatting together. Plus, I got to cuddle my favorite dog over and over, and carry him around calling him "my dog." It was great!

Towards the time we were going to leave, I told Nora I was worried about one of our dogs, because of his severely startled response to another dog earlier in the evening. She said, "Okay... It really doesn't matter anymore," with a very grave face.

"Oh," I said, the reality of what she'd just said sinking into me, weighing me down, as if I'd just swallowed an anchor. Then I added a disbelieving, "Really?"

When she nodded, I asked if there was already a meeting I'd missed, or what. She said there would be in the next few days, but the decision has already been made. He's not doing well. He's not improving. Everything in the world terrifies him and he's getting worse, not better.

That made sense. It made me very, very sad, but it does seem like the right decision for him.

It was the next news that horrified me, however. I was told it had almost happened the day before, without anyone's knowledge or consent, apart from one person making decisions on her own -- my boss.

Boss Lady told the hospital that TWO of our dogs needed to go, and the sooner, the better. One of them was the dog mentioned above. One of them was a dog who has made remarkable improvement in all of her behavior since she's come to us, with people and with other dogs. She is doing so well, and the idea that she was almost put down is fucking ridiculous. I am so happy that Summer was there that day. The hospital asked for the two dogs to be brought over, muzzled, and when Summer asked why, and was told euthanasia, she put an end to that real quick. No one had been informed. No meeting. Nothing. That is NOT the protocol.

The most asinine thing to me is that the people who make the euthanasia decisions are made up mostly of people who don't actually know or spend time with the dogs. They go by second hand information, which is such bullshit to me. And the worst thing of all is that the second hand information gets fucked up along the way, as second hand information is wont to do. Boss Lady had asked for opinions. Then based on the responses she got, she alone made the call. And she had completely misunderstood one of the comments, which is why she said the dog who is doing well needed to be put down also.

Fuck that.

Well. All this certainly doesn't make it any harder to leave. I'm so fucking burnt out when it comes to shelter work. I tried so hard not to cry while I was driving. And I didn't. When I got home, I told Joe what had transpired. After I'd just said I thought it was the right decision for the one dog, the dam broke. Joe asked why I was crying, and I said, "Because I love that dog," and could barely get the words out as I began crying harder. He held me for a while until I stopped crying and my breathing returned to its normal rhythmic pattern.

I'm glad I spent some extra time with that particular dog yesterday. Just relaxing in one of the rooms with him, scratching his side while he leaned against me. It was a really great moment. I was oblivious to his predetermined fate in that room. It was just him and me, relaxing together. And it was wonderful.

I'm really going to miss him.

~~Meg