© 2012 Joshua Stark
And it ain't good news.
After being told by the Golden Gate Springer Rescue (which I learned is just some woman's house that smells a lot like dog pee) lady that I could pick up the dog the day I showed up (after a 90 mile drive) if we were a good fit, I headed out with my baby boy to meet the dog.
Right as we were pulling up to the place, my wife calls me and says that the lady had changed her mind, and that two other families had called and would be looking at the dog the next day, and she would make her decision after two days.
Well, I was pretty crestfallen; I fully expected to be taking a dog home. However, I didn't want her to think that it was the distance that mattered. We still met her.
Big mistake. She was a wonderful dog, although the "rescue" lady obviously hadn't washed her or groomed her, and she scratched with fleas (the lady apologized and said that she would have to groom her for tomorrow's visits). I won't go into specifics because I don't want to dwell on it, but the dog was really good.
So I go home and wait and stress for the next two days. Of course, the lady never calls, so finally I call her. She apologizes for not calling and says that the dog helped her make a decision for another family, (could it be that it was because she was clean and comfortable when she met them?).
So I'm pretty devastated. I put myself out there with some hope, and got myself fairly crushed.
Now I'm left with a conundrum: I now cannot stand "rescue" people, yet I feel kinda bad looking for a dog from a breeder (nor can I afford hardly any of them). Pound dogs are hard, unless I want an "American Staffordshire terrier" or other pit bull. I don't.
It looks like I'll be quite a while without a dog.