Hi everyone.  Matt here.  Yes, I am still alive.  Yes, I still work here.  Yes, I know you haven’t heard from me.  Yes, I am, as Kerry says, the other director.  I don’t tweet or twit or whatever else it’s called.  I work.  Although I have been called a twit and much worse.  Now that that’s out of the way…
More than a thousand dogs pass through our ramshackle little slice of heaven every year.  Every single one is special.  We have found that there are degrees of special.  I love every dog I meet here.  But some stand out.  Some of the dogs we meet stay with us, leaving their indelible mark on our hearts.  It is an intensely personal thing.
We pull them from other shelters.  We gently take them from their crates and get them into their temporary homes, either in the kennel or in the warm weather outside in the dog area.  We examine them carefully and lovingly.  We pet them.  We wash them.  We brush them.  We kiss them and tell them we love them and they’re safe now.  Then, when we’re just getting used to them, playing with them, noting their eccentricities and likes and dislikes and pouring out our hearts with love so they feel comfortable, happy and cared for, as they return that love with their own affection, they leave us to go to their forever homes.  Every single one leaves a mark on our hearts.  Some leave much, much more.

We all know the Baked Alaska of feeling we get when one of our very special dogs leaves to go home.  On the outside we smile and enthusiastically congratulate the new family while inside our hearts are breaking.  Sometimes we hold back tears.  The pain is absolutely amazing sometimes.  A little piece of our heart goes with that dog and we are never the same. I find though that no matter how much it hurts I am always grateful that that little soul has touched my life for just a little while.  And I am thankful that I could touch him or her back.
This is Mason.  He came from Tennessee on July 12th.  He is one of those long, stretch limousine type of dogs, probably a Basset Hound mix I’m guessing.  He is between one and two years old and he’s very cute and affectionate.  When there is a high euthanasia rate at the shelter, usually any dog that expresses any aggression whatsoever is immediately euthanized.  Sigh.  So we get only the best dogs by the time they get here, by virtue of the fact that the nicer dogs are the only ones that live.  There’s a terrific thought to have with your morning coffee.
This is a rough business.  Each dog touches our hearts.  But some take them.  Like Mason.  We noticed almost immediately that Mason walked funny.  Janet was on it like a rash and consulted with Dr. Furman on what it could be.  Seems that Mason had either a birth defect or a bad older injury that never healed right in one of his hips, most specifically the back right.  Mason seemed like he was in a lot of pain, so he was given Tramadol, an analgesic that is also given to humans.
Mason is a very sweet dog.  He is very affectionate, very loving, very sweet.  And he captured a lot of hearts.  This is Chris.  She is one of our overworked, underpaid Dog Caretakers.  She is also a dog trainer.  Chris and I are on the opposite spectrum on politics, but I admire Chris’ generosity, her dedication, and her sense of morality.  When I bitch about the generation behind me and what a mess it is Chris is definitely the exception.
She makes next to nothing working here.  She has nothing.  One day she got an envelope in the mail that I brought down to her at the kennel.  She reached in and pulled out a bracelet.  I had to ask.  She said “I saw this segment on TV last night about these poor kids who were forced into prostitution, and they make these as a way to raise money to get out.  So I bought some.”  Did I mention that Chris has no money?  I know because I see her paycheck.  That’s Chris.  Yep.  “Sucker” is tattooed on her forehead.  Just like the rest of us.
When Eddie came to stay with us Kerry twittered that “some of the staff” took Eddie to Wal*Mart and bought him some clothes and other stuff to get him settled.  Guess who?  Yep, she’s very special.
I also have to mention that Chris is a fantastic cook.  She brings us pasta and lasagna and desserts and all kinds of amazing food.  One of the best sentences you can hear over the walkie-talkie starts with “I made lunch today.”
There are two dogs in Chris’ and her roommate’s household.  Pancho, a three legged black lab from Pets Alive,  and Anna, a Dogo also from Pets Alive.  For a while she also took home Peanut, a dog with separation anxiety so bad he had leapt through three plate glass windows.  “I just couldn’t stand the thought of him being stuck in the kennel.  He just looked so sad.”  Am I painting a picture here?
Chris lives very close to Pets Alive.  She often takes dogs home with her overnight to help calm them and get them a respite from the kennel environment.
She started taking Mason home and caring for him.  She noticed that he seemed like he was in a lot of pain.  He was given a dose of Tramadol that would have worked for me.  Those of you who know me know I weigh close to ten times what our boy Mason weighs.  And it didn’t help.  That was quite alarming.
Chris was debating whether she should take Mason home.  We’ve all done it.  I have Roscoe and Tyson, Kerry has Tommy/Scrumpy and Jake, Janet has Kylie, George and takes Houma every night,  Juan has Teak,  Marcos has Paulie, Renee has Orlando,  Alex has Dylan, Dale has Norman,  Kerri has Cupid.   Those were the dogs we found to be the most special.  And other dogs touch each of us on a regular basis to the point where we consider taking on yet another dog.  Happens all the time.  I know in mine and Kerry’s household it’s very simple.  How do you spell another dog?  D-I-V-O-R-C-E.  Our spouses are very understanding, but they have their limits.  Thanks Tommy and Ingrid.  In the end Chris decided not to take Mason home.
This is the Monschauer family.  They are a really nice group of people.  I get an immediate vibe from people when I meet them.  Both Kerry and I have stopped adoptions based on that vibe.
These people were friendly, they were loving, and they adored Mason.  He adored them too.  There was a complication though.  Janet had taken me aside that morning and given me some bad news.
“It looks like they’re going to have to amputate that leg,” she said.  Sigh.  I hate this part of my job.  This sucks the most.  Mason won’t know he only has three legs, and he’ll adapt just fine, but it still breaks my heart.  He’ll be hopping around on three legs for the rest of his life, but he won’t be unhappy or bitter like I would be.  He won’t curse his life or his luck.  Dogs are amazing.  They are tough and strong and Mason was no exception.  It was as if Janet read my mind.  “Yeah, I worry about him too.  He’s got a long frame and there’s going to be a big learning curve for the poor guy.”  Sigh.  It just sucks.
What about the Monschauer family?  Not phased at all.  They wanted Mason no matter what his leg count was.  So there we were in the volunteer lounge.  Mason had sidled over to me and was lying at my feet.  I was absentmindedly scratching behind his ears while the paperwork was being filled out.  Once in a while he would stretch and twist his head at me and give me a loving look.  Or lick me.  Mason was going home.
I stared at his leg, my heart breaking for this poor boy.  He was in pain and he was going to lose this leg.  Sigh.  It didn’t look any different than any of his other legs.  It was shaved for one of his many examinations, but it looked the same.  A few weeks from now it would be cut from his body and thrown away.  It really sucked.  But at least he would no longer be in pain.
The paperwork was almost finished.  “Did anyone call Chris?”  I asked.  It was time for Chris to say goodbye.
A few minutes later Chris’ little Econobox that probably couldn’t fit my leg comfortably comes down the driveway and she gets out.
When she opens the door everyone else is looking at Mason.  Kerry and I are looking at Chris.   We’ve both been in this spot before.  To her credit Chris is perfect.  She’s got the same smile pasted on her face that we’ve had when we were in the same spot.
As she comes through the door and sees Mason for the first time the facade cracks and we see the pain in her eyes.  We feel it too.  Kerry looks at me with the same sadness and I suddenly remember some of my favorites and how much it hurt.
She recovers quickly and pastes the same smile back on her face.  We love them all you know.  Every single one of them.  It’s so easy to understand how people become hoarders.  We always joke that we are all one step away from being hoarders but there’s some truth to that.  You do love them with all your heart.  You do want the best possible home for them.  The next step is thinking that you are the only home that will care for the animal the right way.  So I guess we are just one step away (ahem….spoken by a man with 6 dogs).
Kerry shoots me a knowing glance and we turn our attention to Chris, who has Mason in her arms and is saying goodbye.  It’s absolutely heartbreaking.  Even the family notices.  “We live pretty close by.  You can come visit him anytime.”  But we can’t.  It would just hurt too much.  Besides, dogs move on quickly.  Read that in a study somewhere.  Mason, three-legged Mason, will adapt to his new home almost immediately and be happy.
I know they remember us.  I’ve run into dogs years after I’ve help get them adopted and they still remember me.  “Wow!  He never does that with someone he doesn’t know!”  Yep.  That’s true. Chris will never forget Mason.  That’s for sure.  As she holds back the tears I continue to remember some of my favorites, most recently Mindy, the dog from the CACC that almost died.  I cried when she left, though I was joyful that after her difficult life she had found a couple that would adore her the way she deserved to be adored.  I saw her at the reunion and she was really loving me up.  I love this job sometimes.
We say goodbye to them all the time.  It is both gratifying and heartbreaking.  I watch Chris being torn apart inside for just a few more minutes and decide to go outside to get some air.  Biggie Smalls beckons me and I go over and start petting him.  Just what the doctor ordered.
I remember Kerry and Scrumpy, then called Tommy.  She agonized over taking that dog.  He was adopted by a couple that lives in the next town from me here in Connecticut.  She liked them. I told her I could check on him anytime.  I saw the same anguish and heartbreak in her as I see in Chris now, though Kerry is even better at hiding it.
They brought Scrumpy back during the next few days, making up some story about why they couldn’t keep him.  Kerry didn’t care.  He was hers now, and he’s been part of her family ever since.
There is one dog I regret not taking.  I will never forget Fritz.  This is a tough business.
Chris hugs the family members and heads out the door.  She’ll go home, pour herself a glass of wine and think about Mason.  And probably cry.  Eventually the joy will beat the sadness to death and the happiness she feels for Mason having a home will be the feeling she reaches for when she thinks of him.  I know this from experience.
It’s funny.  The feeling of sadness you get when one of your most special dogs leaves isn’t something you can easily share, even with the people the closest to you.  It’s very personal and very deep.  And it hurts.  A lot.  But it’s short lived. In the end you feel a pride mixed with that sadness. The realization that you had a part in saving Mason’s life. That you made a difference. That a soul is still on this earth directly because of your actions. And you tuck that feeling and that dog safely in the place in your mind where it doesn’t hurt anymore but you can still remember when you need to. Then you close the door and get ready for the next shipment of animals. It never stops.
So Mason goes home. That night over my own glass of wine I think about the day. I feel anguished over Mason losing his leg. I wonder how Chris is doing. I think of text messaging her but I know Kerry already has and she’s much better at that mushy crap than I am.
I think about the Monschauer family and how excited they must be. Mason is probably playing with the kids or perching himself on the couch (he’s a big couch dog). He’s getting the love and attention that he deserves. Finally. We saved another one. I smile despite the pain I’m feeling.
I hear Kerry’s text message tone on my phone.
“You ok?” she asks.
“Shrug. You?” I answer.
“Shrug.”
“Chris ok?”
“She seems ok. A little sad though.”
“Sigh.”
“He’s a good dog.”
“Yep. I’m really sad about his leg.”
“He won’t know he only has three legs.”
“We do good work Kerry.”
“Yes we do.”
One last thing. Janet told me a few days later that it looks like Mason wouldn’t be having his leg amputated. They would try to control the pain with medication and the specialist was confident that they could.
So we got a happy ending all around.
Mason is a very special dog.
Chris is a very special person.
The Monschauer family are the most special for saving Mason.
Another day at Pets Alive.