Day Nineteen- All Dogs Deserve a Soft Bed

Tandy

I was surrounded by the barks of dozens of dogs as they all verbally fought for my attention. Years later from my first visit when we adopted Buddy, I was back and the place hadn't changed. The pound was still just as loud. The smell was still that powerful mix of dog and cleaning supplies. 

            Claws hit the cement floor and made frantic scratching noises as the dogs would run around in their small cages, trying anything to get my attention. They knew what it meant when someone showed up.

            One of them was going home.

            I had dragged my Mom and my girls, Bean age six and Abu age four, down here in the middle of fall, bundled in bulky clothes and boots, to find a friend for our older dog, Buddy. He was lonely and needed a doggie pal. He had plenty of people friends being the social dog he was but he needed canine friendship. His hip problem made it impossible to get a bouncy, bubbly puppy but could I find him a nice, older dog?

 My girls loved all the different dogs and wanted to take them all home. Their hearts were so big and generous, they would have cared for them all if we could.  I was busy searching for that older dog.

We had walked around most of the aisles when my Mom stops and peers into a cage. I hadn’t even noticed the occupant staying in there, she was curled up on the cement floor in a tight ball of misery and depression.

She was a bluish, black color and blended into the cement color. Her little body shivered with the chilly floor and the cold outside.

We found her name on the sign, Tandy, not sure if that was her name before she arrived here a month earlier or if that was a name given to her when someone just dropped her off.

At first she didn’t respond, so lost in her despair that there was no point in raising her head. She already knew, no one takes the old ones home.

We shouted louder and she slowly looked up at us, her expression empty and all hope lost in the shadows of her eyes.

She finally stood up and looked at us further, but no interest showed in her face. For a month she had been locked in this tiny cage while dozens of people had past her by because she was a senior citizen.

Tandy, was a petite blue heeler, who was at least six or seven years old. She was exactly what I was searching for and I asked to meet with her in the tiny visitor room. She was quiet and unassuming even though she was eager for the dog treat from the pound tech.

I fell in love with the older dog and took her home.

The girls were happy, she was smaller than they were and they could easily walk her around the block.

Buddy was ecstatic and eagerly sniffed at her. He wagged his tail and a big doggie grin spread across his face. Then I let them outside together and the petite little dog started doing what she was bred to do. Herd sheep.

Except she didn’t have sheep to herd, so she tried to herd Buddy. And needless to say, he did not appreciate Tandy biting at his ankles.

I was worried. My plan was quickly unraveling. I had two elderly dogs in my house that were so used to having things their way, they were unwilling to adjust to having someone else mess up their routine.

Tandy was clearly acting like a dog that never lived with another dog in her entire life and Buddy didn’t like it when she tried to steal his bed, or his left overs, or my attention. They quickly become like two grouchy old people, always complaining and sighing.

I took Tandy to the veterinary and found out she wasn’t only old she was a little old lady. She was probably around ten or eleven years of age. And she acted like it too.

She would eat her food carefully. And trot around the yard with delicate steps. At night she would curl up in her bed and I couldn’t get her to go outside for the potty after nine o’clock at night. The little old lady was tired and down for the night.

If she did happen to get up, she didn’t like to walk downstairs to go outside.

After a few months, Buddy and Tandy finally started being friendly with each other. They would share their food and even cuddle doing the cold weather. Cautiously, they started being friends.

A bit of hope started shining in her eyes and sometimes she would even try to play a joke on me and then grin about it. She relaxed and would try to climb in my lap to lick my neck, and my hands and love me right back.

And she even stopped biting Buddy ankles, which he greatly appreciated.

I had to give them their medicine and supplements in the mornings, for senior dogs need their pills. They toleranted it, but just because of the yummy peanut butter I would hide the pills in.

When the weather was cool, we would go for walks around the block. But only short

walks as the arthritis in their hips and joints act up if we go too far .

I bought them thick, luxurious beds, not just to spoil them but because they got sore sleeping on the carpet.

And at night, when they go outside to use the potty one last time, I smile as they slowly walk to their beds and go to sleep.

We had Tandy for about three years before sickness made her life miserable and she was ready to go. Then my Mom and I took her to the vet, where she tried to kiss my neck with her wet little nose as I held her during her last moments. If we hadn't adopted her, she would have been put down in the cold and cruel place of the pound, instead she was loved and cherished in her old age. And held in her last moments. 

Having a senior dog was a lot of work but the love I received from her in return was worth it. And I'm starting to think there are angels at the pound, trying to find every dog and cat a home. :)