Another Tough Goodbye

How could you not love those ears?

In 2006 Elvis and I moved into our first apartment. About a month later, a young woman was stabbed in the parking lot, and I got really afraid of being alone. E was working the graveyard shift at a local diner, and I would spend evenings huddled in fear in our bed. In order to give me some peace of mind and companionship, Elvis secretly scoured Craigslist ads until he found just the perfect surprise: a miniature Dachshund pup. She was beautiful, and I named her Scarlett (after the fiery bitch heroine of my favorite book). When she first came to live with us, it was obvious she'd been abused. She was terrified of Elvis, and was so skinny we could see her ribs and most of her spine bones. She would only eat if I sat on the floor with her until she was done, and cried even in her sleep. It was heartwrenching, but the three of us were patient with one another, and eventually became a happy little family. In 2008 we added a cat into the mix, and the two were almost instantly best friends. Then Henry came along, and things went downhill for Scarlett. She was so used to living in my lap, and she let her displeasure be heard constantly when my lap was no longer vacant. She began to act out. It wasn't too bad at first, just a constant whining. But things have gotten worse and worse. She's completely forgotten her potty training. She NEVER used to have accidents, but in the past 3 months she's peed in the house at least once every day. She gets into the litter box and scatters cat poop everywhere. She ignores her own food and eats the cat's instead. She also enjoys a nice used diaper as a toy. She's begun growling at Henry almost any time he comes near, and -worst of all- she actually bit Elvis. In short, things have been moving in a bad direction for awhile. Finally, about a month ago, I told Elvis I'd had it. I was done with the dog, and ready for her to go. I hemmed and hawed about it for a few weeks, and then he said he'd put up an ad. He didn't, so last night I finally did it myself. And I was shocked to learn that, in less than 12 hours, we had 6 responses. Elvis took charge of the task, and found a perfect family for her this afternoon. And when he gets home from work today he's going to take my little lapdog and pass her on to a woman who has the time and patience for her.

I'm a giant mess of conflicting feelings at this point. I'm so delighted and relieved not to have to worry about stepping in puddles when I get up to go to the bathroom at night, or about who'll babysit the dog when we're out of town, or whether she'll wake Henry with her constant night barking. But on the other hand I feel like a monster for getting rid of a tiny little dog who just wants to sit in my lap and love me. Ever since Elvis told me he'd found a taker, I haven't been able to stop thinking about the day I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes. I was so scared and disappointed when I heard the news, I cried for about an hour. And Scarlett never left my lap in all that time. She just laid there with her chin on my arm while I cried, as if to say "I love you, and you will be fine."

I'm so glad we found someone who has the time to care for and love Scarlett as she deserves. I hope that she treats her gently and with patience and understanding. She's such a tender-hearted little dog who - like all dogs - just wants her people to be happy. And even though I will NOT miss cleaning up her pee with my good towels, I will miss her sweet face and unconditional love for the rest of my life.

Silly Scarlett crawled down the sleeve of my bathrobe one morning.