We have hemmed and hawed about finding her a new home now since before Evan was born, so I guess it's been about a year. It seemed as though one thing led to another that would cause us to delay the decision. We'd then get used to the other situations we came up with to further the delay, which would cyclically lead us to lots of "anothers" until we finally reached a breaking point.
When the breaking point happened, I asked Patrick what he wanted to do. I knew what his answer would be but I wanted him to come up with it. And he did. He said that he didn't want to give her away but he knew it would be the right thing for her and for us if we gave her an opportunity for a new life. Before he blinked, I placed an ad.
Well, I placed 4 ads.
And we got a phone call. "Oh, she looks adorable and I really would love to take her. Tomorrow."
Which is today.
We spent a lot of time reminiscing about Cayman last night, knowing that this morning we would be packing up her personal belongs and favorite treats to give to another owner who would then give them to her.
Since I "seemed" emotionally unphased by her parting, Patrick wanted to know if I had any good memories of her - you know, about her energy, her face, her personality. So, we strolled down memory lane thinking about all the good things we remembered about our dog. Here are some of those memories we both had of her...
"Remember when we first got her and she tore around the house like a mad-dog. She jumped all over the furniture and bed and couch and ran laps and laps until we were dizzy?"
"Remember when I hurt my knee when I chased her after she started jumping over the fence?"
"Remember how I ripped my shirt on the fence when I chased her after she started jumping over the fence?"
"Remember how I laughed so hard watching her walk around in a no-jump harness we got for her when she started jumping over the fence? And a few hours later I went into labor with Mallory?"
"Remember when she peed in your mom's purse?"
"Remember when she used to stare into the vents of our little rental house because she heard the mice scurrying around in the air conditioner ducts?"
"Remember how she used to jump up on top of the grill and sleep there?"
"Remember when she peed in the middle of our bed?"
"Remember when she chewed up the red pen in the middle of our dining room and stained the carpet red? That's when we decided to re-carpet the house."
"Remember the time her face swelled up like a balloon after she got bit by that spider?"
"Remember how she chewed up our door frame in the laundry room and basement because she didn't like it when we left her alone?"
"Remember how she humped our babies every time she sniffed their butts? And she sniffed their butts a lot."
"Remember how we had to DRAG her into her crate before we would leave the house? She'd be hiding under the depths of our king-sized bed and we'd have to sprawl out in an army-crawl position to reach her? And then she'd nip at our hands when we reached in to grab her collar to get her out?"
"Remember the time when she figured out how to jump our 6-foot privacy fence, wander around the neighborhood and look for someone to bother? And that time on Christmas Eve when our neighbors brought her over saying she was rooting around in their trash?"
"Remember the time she escaped at my parents house and was missing for 4 days? Remember how tired she was? Remember how much we missed her and were so relieved she was found? That's when we stopped bringing her to my parents house. Or anyone else's house for that matter."
Wait. Aren't we supposed to be talking about the good memories? I guess these are.
We both have said, though, that Cayman is a dog-lover's dog. People who love animals love Cayman. People who do not love animals do not love Cayman. She needs a pack. She needs a lot and a lot of love. She needs a champion.
I think we found her a good home. And I think the lady who is her new owner is a dog-lover. And I think Cayman will be very happy.
I don't think I'll be second-guess our decision, though there will be times I will miss her.
