Temple

I woke up in the night.  Temple was sitting straight up, solemnly, right between Alec's and my shoulders.  She looked very serious. 

I filled out an application a little over a week ago to try to foster the dog I found last February running through the bus lane at work.  I wanted to just volunteer and check on her, but the process took such a long time that I just filled out the foster application.  Alec and I knew we weren't ready, but decided that us at half-mast was better than the dog living in the shelter.  I kept getting notices about death-row dogs, dogs that were about to be put down, and I still felt like I had an obligation to the dog I found eight months ago, before all the others.  I felt bad thinking of the new dog.  She deserves someone who loves her like we love Lola, but we still decided it was better if she was out of the shelter.   I have been following her for eight months on the shelter's website and have felt awful every day when I drive past that place on the way home from work. 

 

"You know that once people foster dogs, they never get rid of them."  Alec mentioned.
"Yeah.  I know.  We'll walk her around with the little 'adopt me' thing on her, but I know."  I answered.

Our application was approved quickly.  I realized I was excited about bringing her home and then, felt guilty.  We put all of Lola's things in the Bird Room, because we didn't know how we would feel if a random dog laid on Lola's things or chewed them up.  I left work fifteen minutes early and drove to the shelter.  They brought her out and she looked almost the same as she did eight months ago.  A skinny PitBull, noticeably smaller than Lola, less than half her size.  It felt perfuntiary, the dog dragged me around on the leash for a while and I said I was taking her home.  There weren't really decisions to be made, we had already made them.  The dog could have bit me, but we still had already made up our minds.   
"How do you think she will do in a crate for a few hours tomorrow?  We have to work and then our dog walker will come in the afternoon."  I asked.
"Oh, she'll be fine.  She's been in a crate for eight months.  She really hasn't left here."  the coordinator answered.  

"She's not in one of those big kennel rooms?"  I asked.  

"No.  We don't have room.  She's in a crate like those."  she indicated, pointing at a stack of wire crates.  

The people at the shelter were really happy and clapping for the dog they called Temple.  They loaded up the car with a huge bed, food, toys and all kinds of things.  I secured the dog with one of Lola's carabiners in the back seat and we took off.  As I drove away, I watched Temple look out of the window, almost like a person who had never been outside before.  She sat while she looked.  We left behind the Dollar Trees and Auto Zones and derelict buildings and hit the highway.  

She had a little Halloween collar on, and a tag that said she belonged to the shelter, not us.  We drove very fast.