April Winchell

Most of you know by now that we lost our beloved little Dugans on July 5th. She was just a few months shy of her 15th birthday, and considering how sick she was, that was no small feat.

But it was typical for Dugans, who was the toughest fucking dog I have ever met.

Dugans’ health issues made Liz Taylor look like a hobbyist. She had Cushings Disease, a collapsed trachea, thyroid problems and a mouth full of rotted teeth we lovingly referred to as punji sticks. She had tumors all over, including her lungs, kidneys and bladder, was deaf as a post and took more pills than Liza at a deposition. Still, she had an amazingly good quality of life, bitching at John for not giving her Kentucky Fried Chicken fast enough just days before her demise.

Almost immediately after Dugans shuffled off this mortal coil, we started talking about getting another dog. I realize some people feel that they need time, or that they never want another pet, and I respect that. But I can’t think of a time when a dog is more helpful than after a significant loss.

Even so, a new dog makes a lot of emotional demands, and the two of us were a little drained. I went back and forth for a while, and might have continued to do so, had I not noticed Mac starting to mope.

Even though Dugans never wanted to play, Mac spent an inordinate amount of time watching her from a polite distance, and was very invested in her welfare. She watched her getting bathed, she watched her being fed, she watched John give her medicine. And when Dugans got her pills in a cup of ice cream, Mac got a Frosty Paws (”ice cream” made just for dogs). It was something they sort of did together, like watching ball games with us, or napping through DVDs in the bedroom.

And it was exactly this patience and gentleness that I felt should be rewarded. As social as Mac is, and as much as she loves to play with other dogs, she never crossed a line with Dugans. She never took her food or bullied her, or stole her bed or even got jealous of the attention she received. She just seemed to understand that Dugans needed respect and space. And that made me love Mac more than I can express.

I felt such responsibility to Mac. Choosing another dog would be choosing a life mate for her, and I wanted to find a companion who would give her everything she needed.

We decided to take her with us to several adoptions and rescues last weekend. We felt like it ought to be her choice, and we wanted to see her make a connection with a dog, instead of just bringing one home and making it her problem.

It was harder than it sounds. She didn’t show much interest in anyone, and we introduced her to quite a few prospects. Compounding this is the maddening practice many rescue organizations have of simply not following up with prospective owners. I’ve had this experience every time I’ve tried to adopt an animal. You go through the screening, you agree to the fees, and that’s the last you hear from them.

I have a friend who says rescue organizations don’t want to adopt too many of their pets, since they make donations based on the animals in their inventory. I don’t know if it’s as cynical as all that. I think maybe it’s just a matter of volunteers with real jobs, or fosters who grow attached and don’t really want to place the animals they’ve come to care for. Whatever it is, it’s unbelievably hard to adopt an animal from any organization other than a shelter, and shelters are largely populated by pit bulls I don’t want.

Don’t get me wrong. I am a huge fan of pit bulls. I’ve had three pits since 1982, and they were all really wonderful, loving dogs. That’s because piits are not hostile by nature; they’re a product of their conditioning. How you raise a pit bull has everything to do with what he turns into, and since I have no way of knowing what the pit in the shelter endured before he got there, I’m not taking the chance.

And so it was that I found myself in a pet store this morning, where Mac finally chose the companion she was interested in. The chemistry was immediate, and I knew we had found the one when he took Mac’s leash in his mouth, and gently led her across the room.