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As I posted earlier, when I can’t find anything to watch on television I screen the adoptable dogs available On Demand. Comcast offers three minute videos of dogs that are waiting for a home at the SPCA. Three months ago, I saw the world’s most unadoptable dog. It was ugly. It was blind and deaf. It needed daily eye drops. Its matted hair was a tangle that would require a shave or a traumatic series of brushing. It quivered in the lap of the person as she explained that the animal wasn’t socialized and was at least 12 years old. I explained to my husband that we HAD to adopt this dog. After all, who else would adopt such a sad case? He wasn’t moved by my plea. I kept asking, and he kept saying, “No.” I would interrupt his television shows with the On Demand video of the pitiful dog, and I reminded him that we were its only hope. He said no, and listed good reasons for why it was a bad idea.
On the sly, I went to visit the dog. It formerly belonged to an animal hoarder who lived in a mobile home and kept more than 100 animals. Later I explained to my husband that I visited the dog, who seemed nice but traumatized. He dug his heels in, sensibly. He explained that there was no way that a herd of dogs in a trailer were housebroken. He was right, the dog wasn’t housebroken.
Still, I kept asking. I kept checking On Demand, and no one adopted the pitiful dog. Finally after months of badgering, my husband agreed to go and look at the dog. We visited the SPCA and to my surprise, someone adopted the unadoptable dog. Somehow, I felt sad and disappointed. Something had changed inside me.
The year before had been a horrible one for me. At its close, I decided that I could not care about anything. I did not vote. I didn’t recycle. I had so many aggravations and disappointments that I had to stop caring. We still gave to our favorite charities, but beyond that, I didn’t care. The best I could do was to change my bitterness into just not caring. But this feeling changed when I saw the world’s most pathetic dog on television. Even after the dog slipped away, I was left to face the fact that I had changed. I could care again. I do care again.
I spent the next month looking for another pitiful dog. I haven’t kept up with my blog. I couldn’t type; my hand hurt from all of the online searching for the perfectly overlooked dog. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I searched and searched for a new dog to befriend my sweet Greyhound, Sofie. I yearned. I carefully researched and corresponded with several rescue groups. And now I have Maggie, who I care about very much.
Becky Reil is a lover of art, architecture and good food. Traveling with her husband and friends is her favorite way to enjoy all of her interests. She ate her way through thirteen countries and has several trips planned for the near future. Local food is her passion, and she will reluctantly share her "secret" sources for sausage, beef, grits and produce. Becky is constantly working to enlarge her fabric stash and enjoys quilting and collecting textiles. A graduate of Radford University, she has worked as an Art Teacher and as a Job Coach for disabled persons.
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