I've strictly used this blog to document the progress of our home's renovation. But I must digress this time to write about something that happened over the weekend in our neighborhood, so it's close enough to the subject of the house. In fact, it was just next door.
One of our neighbors had this puppy - this adorable, black lab mix (we think). He occasionally got out of the yard because he was small enough to fit through gaps in the fence. So he was then confined to a pen in the yard, pretty much all the time, since we rarely saw anyone out there with him. Not the greatest life, but we figured since he wasn't being physically abused, we wouldn't say or do anything. And besides, it's none of our business. This isn't the kind of neighborhood where you get up in other people's business anyway.
Michael noticed on Saturday that the puppy didn't look so great, so he kept an eye on him throughout the day. Then later that afternoon when he went to rinse some paint brushes off outside, some kids were out there, so he went over to check on him. The puppy was on death's door, he said, when he came back in the house. We made some calls and ended up loading the puppy and the kids, whom we'd never met before, in our car and rushing to the emergency vet across town. The little guy didn't even make it to the vet's office.
I've lived a pretty sheltered life. I'm also extremely sensitive when it comes to animals and their well-being. I'd never witnessed the death of a person or animal before, and while I didn't actually see it, it happened right behind me in my own car. I heard him die, gasping those last few breaths. It was so terribly heartbreaking. You can imagine the blubbering mess I was reduced to on Saturday.
I wished we'd stepped in sooner. I wished I'd encouraged Michael to do something when he first noticed something was wrong instead of trying not to stick our noses where they don't belong. But that probably wouldn't have saved his life. I figured he was dehydrated and his kidneys shut down (he had been peeing blood, apparently), but who knows. He lived outside, all the time. It gets really hot here in Richmond. You do the math. Something was wrong, and had been wrong, and no one else did anything about it.
After the sadness, anger begins to take over. Anger at people who have absolutely no business owning a dog, let alone a puppy. I read about it, I see it on TV, tales of neglect, but it's never happened this close to home. If you can't handle the responsibility, the hassle, the ruined furniture/carpet/shoes/clothes/whatever, don't get a pet. And if something doesn't work out, there are so many places, especially in and around Richmond, where you can take your pet if you can't give it the care it needs. It's so simple - I just don't understand how people can be so oblivious. Or just plain ignorant.
When we got back home after this whole ordeal, after I was finally able to let it all out and compose myself, I went into our living room and sat down next to Tanga and just petted him, thankful that we still have him around for many years to come. We complain a lot about our little orange terror, and his cross-eyed partner in crime, but we still love them and would do just about anything for them. I just hate that all pets aren't so lucky. So any of you out there with pets, please go love them just a little extra. And if I ever find out someone I know has a pet and is responsible for letting it suffer just a fraction of what our neighbors' puppy suffered, I will hunt you down.
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