IT HAPPENED AGAIN

Next time we want to go adopt something--a road, a tree, a new attitude--somebody, please, slap us silly and remind us how pointless it is.

There are a lot of really needy dogs out there in the big wide world. We saw quite a few of them. We met big dogs and little dogs and puppies and old dogs. What we learned is that Tux does not want a brother or sister. And after Tux meets a potential sibling the 'adoption' people do not want Tux to have a brother or sister, either. It's been a long hard day for all concerned, and one we would just as soon forget. So George remains simply a toy, and Tux can be an only child. 'Tis ok, he really is a needy boy, and we certainly don't want to traumatize any other people or dogs...

We tried our humane society first, on the grounds that they let us have Tux. Of course, Tux had a date with the canine version of Dr. Kevorkian; we represented a last-minute reprieve.
Problem: Kitchener's rates to adopt a dog have climbed well into the stratosphere. It now costs $318.00. We'd be willing to pay that for the right dog, but the right dog wasn't there when we were. Having reviewed their website, we weren't overly surprised.
So: off to Toronto to check out their Humane Society. Tux had himself a nice long c*r r*de. (At some point I might mistakenly read this post aloud in earshot of our Tux. And if he hears the words c-a-r--r-i-d-e he'll lose his wee little mind.
He was a very good boy, even when we left the car in turns to check out the animals and go through the screening process. Mommy went in first and eventually came back talking about a particular puppy. Daddy went in and couldn't find him, but did find two older dogs--one of whom had been at the shelter for almost eighteen months. Both of them looked at him sadly. I'd go home with you, their gazes said, if only they'd let me.
Out I went. "Check out Venus and Boots", I said to my wife. "Venus is a German Shepherd cross and she looks really sweet. Boots is a collie and he just looks woebegone."
So Tux and I settled down to wait. Three quarters of my book later, Eva came back out. "Venus, no. Boots, no", she said, a little miffed. "One hates dogs and the other hates cats. But," she went on, "there's this adorable little puppy by the name of Sambuca. She's four months old and she looks just like a little Tux."
"It took you that long just to check out one dog?"
"Oh, I checked everybody out. You really gotta feel bad for all the pit bulls. I got to meet and greet Sambuca. Also went through the screening. They're hardasses in there--I guess they kind of have to be, when adoption costs whatever you care to donate. Go on in and see what you think of Sambuca. You'll love her."
I did. Just like Tux. Mouthy--she loved pulling on every fold of clothing she could find--but you'd expect that of a four month old puppy. Otherwise, she was wonderfully calm. And beautiful.
Until she met Tux.
For reasons unknown, they insist on the meet-and-greet taking place indoors, in a little room smelling of the fear of half a hundred dogs. I'm sure Tux still has dim nightmarish memories of a room just like that one, and sure enough, his tail slunk between his legs immediately. Why can't they let the dogs interact in their little dog park? I wondered. Tux LOVES the dog park, and he loves nearly every dog he's ever met there.
Of course, none of those dogs had ever tried to get between Tux and his Mommy. When this one did, Tux told her off in no uncertain terms. The volunteer noted that, and said she was sorry, but she didn't think this was going to work out. "Protective, isn't he?"
You have no idea.
The sense we got--and we probably should have known better--was that Tux would growl and lunge at any dog, especially in these surroundings. Here he was, jealous of a puppy about a quarter his size. Sambuca, for her part, was trying to be dominant. Tux grudgingly accepts that Mommy and Daddy are the alpha dogs. He won't allow himself to slip any lower in his pack's hierarchy.
And, damnit, submissive dogs are almost impossible to find in shelters.

So back home we went. Tux is now doing his best impression of a dead puppy. Look at this from his perspective:
YAY! A C*R R*DE!!!
Wow, this is a long c*r r*de!
Where the hell are we?
Other dogs! Lots of them! Can't see them, though. Daddy says STAY.
Mommy's gone!
MOMMY'S GONE!
*sigh*
Mommy's back! Shit, there goes Daddy!
*sigh*
Daddy's back! Oh, no, Mommy, no you don't, where are you going NOW?
*sigh*
*sigh*
*sigh*
There you are! Yup, bye, Daddy. How long we playing this game, anyway?
...
Finally! I get to go for a WALK!
...
Where--
What--
Why--
THEY'RE LEAVING ME!
They *must* be leaving me. This is a Bad Place. I don't like it here. Mommy, I wanna go Tux's house.
Look, another dog.
I get it now...they're going to leave me here and take that dog instead! I can't accept this! Look at this upstart, trying to assert herself. I DON'T THINK SO, BITCH!
Hey, it worked! They're taking me back to the car ride. We go Tux's house now.

So here we are. We go Tux's house now. And only Tux's house.