Part I – FREE LOUIE!!
You know how it is when people know you rescue poodles. Dogs just kind of happen to you. Got a call – “I need you to find a home for my poodle, and he’s waiting for you at the Humane Society.”
I had never actually gone to pick up a dog in jail before. I know my limits (and John’s). I knew I would come home with every furry face I established eye contact with. Fortunately for me, “Louie” was in a separate area. 58 lbs. of black fuzz, bouncing off the walls.
A review of Louie’s paperwork indicated that the onset of his “unacceptable behavior” coincided with the total remodel of his owner’s home on the golf course and her husband’s obliviousness to the fact that dogs need to go outside more than once every twelve hours. It’s amazing how animals are held to a higher standard than humans are.
So I sprang him, released on his own recognizance because I represented Poodle Rescue. P.R. asked me to pick him up; they didn’t say what I should do with him. I’d have to figure that out on the ride back.
First glance at Louie in the rear view mirror: I’m sure there’s a foster home somewhere.
Second glance: Could I subject him to more rejection? I mean, from the pound, to my house where he would hear me dialing numerous “volunteers” (AKA conscripted dog sitters) who didn’t have room for him?
Third glance: Louie is cowering in the back, his sweet little beady eyes buried in his paws.
“Louie!” “Louie,” I called. He slowly raised his head, we gazed into each other’s eyes in the rear view mirror, and Louie was home.
Next Installment: Convincing John and Bubbles that Louie (and I) was staying.