Waiting for the Right Home

And just like that, Stitch is gone. I’d be sad, except she’s found the perfect family. She’ll have kids to adore and be adored by, an active mommy, and no cats that are never in the mood to play anyway. This one was easier. I don’t worry about Stitch. I know what a good dog she is. I know she’s sweet and obedient and smart as a whip. Who wouldn’t love her? Especially cute kids like these…

I’m happy for Stitch, so the lump in my throat is a little easier to swallow. What a great dog. What a lucky family. Amy e-mailed me tonight and said they’ve decided to keep the nickname we gave her, Stitch. We’re honored to have named such a stellar pup. Happy trails my little Stitcheroo!

Carla is still here. She may be here for a while. We’re okay with that. I want her to also find her perfect home. She will be harder to place and I’ll definitely worry more for her. She needs this next move to be her last. A dog can only have her heart broken so many times.

Carla will need someone who will give her plenty of exercise, indulge her affinity for soft beds, and not mind the fact that she barks. (And barks.). She has a lot to say.

When I’m slow mixing up breakfast, she swirls around my feet, chastising me excitedly, “Get a move on lady! My granny could whip that up faster than you with one hand tied behind her back!” The sheer volume is stressful and makes it hard for me to focus. Does she get the coconut oil in the morning or the probiotics? No matter, I’m certain she’d eat anything I served.

When she’s ready to come back inside after a good bark session on the deck, she shouts at the door repeatedly, “Heeell-ooooo?! Are you snoozing in there? Can’t you hear that I’ve finished my oratory for the birds? It’s time for me to come in and make the rounds of the kitchen floor. I’m sure you’ve dropped something!”

When the cats are on the porch, her higher pitched bark clearly says, “Hey! Those furry varmints with the negative attitudes and thorns for mitts are at it again. Let me out there and I’ll run them off for you!”

But sometimes, she’s speaks quietly. Sometimes she whimpers her thoughts. Watching me pet Stitch, she quietly murmurs– “I’d love a little scratch behind my ears, too!”

When we arrive home, she wiggles herself around, butt in the air like a puppy, emitting squeaks of sheer happiness – “I’m so happy you’re here. You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world. I’ve missed you so much!”

And when she’s ready to go out, she’ll wander to the door and look forlornly out the window, muttering a low whine, “Could I offer you a little stroll around the yard?”

Of course, she’s all coonhound, which explains a lot. She can lay around with the best of them. She can gallop ahead with her big lunging stride. She will splash into the stream, only pausing briefly to look back with joy to see if you’re coming, too.

And food, let’s talk food. She LOVES it. It’s her favorite thing – any food – old food, used food, food meant for someone else, food spilled on the floor, cat food, and even traces of food to be found on someone’s fingers. To her credit, she doesn’t help herself, but waits to be served. We’ve practiced preventative food storage, but she’s yet to steal anything off the counter.

The bottom line is that everything Carla does is big. And she doesn’t even know it. She’s not an obnoxious dog. She’s more a regal soul, a lady even, and I just know she’d feel awful if she knew she was inconveniencing or offending anyone.

She unintentionally whacks the other dogs in the face with her formidable tail. She takes up all of the couch when she relaxes. Same for the back seat. When she barks, it’s loud. But she’s not trying to be loud. She just is. Ian loved hearing her bark during his soccer game. He said he could hear her cheering him on. The other spectators weren’t so thrilled with the overly enthusiastic fan.

This weekend we are going away and my parents will be here with the kids. My parents are dog lovers but my parents are also 80 years old. So my kids have been warned – Grammy and Pop Pop are not allowed to walk Carla. Carla is well mannered and sweet, but she also a 70 pound coonhound and is not always conscious that there’s someone else on the other end of the leash if a squirrel or an errant cat happens by. Her bigness could be dangerous in this situation.

I’m glad Stitch found her forever home today instead of next week. Mostly because she was ready to start her real life sooner than later, but it also means there will only be one foster dog to foster this weekend. I’m sure my kids will step up. They love Carla and they love their grandparents. But I’ll still worry. Not about my coonhound – about my parents affection for that coonhound. Who wouldn’t trust a face like this?