One dog lost, another dog found

A response to the W&W writing prompt “Saving Lives”

Eleven days ago, we had to say our final goodbyes to our sweet pit bull, Luna. Luna was 14 and suddenly displayed very serious symptoms that the vets couldn’t diagnose. She couldn’t walk, and she was shaking and breathing oddly. Since the trouble started on a Sunday at 2 a.m., we had to take her to the emergency vet in a nearby city. She stayed there all that day and overnight, then we picked her up Monday morning and took her to our regular vet where they would do more bloodwork and X-rays. After she had spent some time there, we went to meet with them.

We discussed biopsies and exploratory surgery. But she was miserable and the prognosis was not good, so we decided it was time to let her go. We had done all we could for her, spending enough for a long vacation in the process. We’re very grateful we were able to afford it.

But it sure was empty around the house without Luna. We still talk to her like she’s there. And maybe she is, in spirit.

Today I had one of our cats at the vet’s for a check-up. The vet who examined her was the same vet who had helped us say goodbye to Luna. We talked about us getting another dog, and she said, “When the time is right a dog will appear.”

As I was waiting to check out, I heard several staff members talking in the office. They were talking about something being “better than killing the dog.” The vet tech Kelsey said, “We may have to find an emergency foster.”

My ears perked up, so to speak, and I asked, “An emergency foster?”

Tiffany, one of the front desk staffers, said some people had a three-year-old dog that the shelter wouldn’t take so they wanted to have the vet put him down. They were all in agreement that they would not do this, but the people were bringing the dog in that afternoon.

I talked more with Kelsey. I let her know we had just lost Luna and might be able to take the dog. His name was Tank.

When I discussed this idea with my husband he wasn’t too keen on it. But after I told him the circumstances, he agreed that we would adopt the dog.

When I talked with Kelsey after they met Tank, she said he weighed 65 pounds. Well, damn, we’ve always had big dogs, but now that we’re older I was hoping to get somebody who was a little easier to handle, who weighed closer to 40 pounds.

Oh, and Tank had a nasty skin condition; that’s why the shelter wouldn’t take him. Great, say goodbye to a sick dog and get another sick dog.

And he’s not neutered. Yikes! More vet bills.

But I don’t believe in mere coincidences. I think I was at that vet’s office on that day at that time to overhear that discussion for a reason.

My daughter asked me from Chicago if I had met Tank. I texted back, “Not yet. But, really, did I ever meet a dog I didn’t like?” And my husband is the same way.

So Tank is ours now. Tomorrow I will go to meet him and bring him home.