MIDDLE-AGED FEMALE IS HARD TO PLACE
“I was reading today’s paper and the back page of section D has pictures of the animals up for adoption,” wrote Debra Cantley of Charleston in her letter to me. “One picture is of a sweet little dog that is 10 years old. The ad says the dog is there because the family is moving, but how can someone do that? My dog is 12 years old. I’d move into a cardboard box before I’d even consider doing something like that. It hurts to think what this little dog is going through, how his heart is breaking. He’s been thrown away and doesn’t know why.
“I hope this little dog finds a good, loving home. I wish I could take him. It just breaks my heart.”
I’ve been haunted by dogs like the one that touched Cantley–those grey-muzzled, rheumy-eyed animals who seem to be struggling to maintain their dignity after finding themselves dumped in a shelter, usually after their former owner has claimed they can’t take Fido or Fluffy with them when they move.
Like Cantley, I can’t fathom how an owner could reward years of loyal loving in such a dismissive fashion, although I’ve recently learned how difficult it can be to find a home for an animal that is no longer frisky.
When Gypsy, a timid cat, came to live with us, she spent the first month in hiding. It took some time to get her to trust us, but she gradually became one of the gang. And then somehow, she became the gang’s target. Even though all our animals have been neutered and are gentle with each other, there’s something about the quiet, meek Gypsy that causes them to bully, chase, and pick on her so ruthlessly that, to give her some peace, we began to lock her away in one room.
But the one room restriction hasn’t been well-received, and after months of Gypsy having to choose between being pummeled or being locked up alone, we decided it might be kinder to try and find her a new home.
Considering that Gypsy is highly decorative, we didn’t expect it would be too hard to place her. She’s healthy, declawed, litter trained, quiet. She doesn’t weave around feet or do the feline speedbump thing like our other cats do, and since she loves nothing more than to sit on a lap and watch television, we thought she’d be great company for an older person who lives alone.
Except every time we thought we’d found a potential new home, they’d decline when we told Gypsy’s age. She was mature when we got her, so we don’t know for certain, but the vet estimates her to be 8 or 9, which is middle age for an indoor cat.
So if it’s this difficult to find a home for a cat that isn’t even a senior, how hard must it be to place one that is truly old?
Since we’re fortunate enough that there’s no rush to rehome her, we’re simply continuing what we’ve been doing for months, until we find her a new home. Some might expect this experience might’ve made me slightly more sympathetic toward those who take their older animals to the shelter, but it hasn’t. Not a bit.
Owning a pet is a commitment, an until-death-us-do-part kind of deal. They’re living, feeling creatures with so much to offer.
In Animal Lessons in Love, author Mary Lou Randour explains how animals can teach us how to live more responsibly and joyously.
“The lessons animals teach us about trust are not abstract or symbolic, but concrete and dramatic.
“We directly experience the love of the animals with whom we share our lives - love without reservation, judgment, or expectation. The animals by our side don’t care what we look like, how successful we are, whether we are fat or thin, rich or poor. They simply love us. We benefit from their attention and enjoy their unconditional love, a love that never doubts our motives, neither wavering nor withdrawing.
“Adult humans, on the other hand, complicate love. We tend to love ambivalently. Our love comes mixed with other emotions: lack of trust, fear of loss of control, hesitancy to expose our vulnerability, doubt, and a resistance to relinquishing our own self-interest. Animals can teach us about love, about becoming vulnerable, and about leaving doubt behind.”
July 11th, 2009 at 3:18 am
When I volunteered at the shelter, I would foster dogs I thought I could place. Lucy had been turned in by her owner and was listed as 4+ years. She, too, was eminently adoptable, or so I thought: house trained; spayed; good with kids. But people considered her overweight and middle-aged. EVERYONE commented on her weight. My husband thought I was being oversensitive until he walked Lucy outside the vet’s office while I paid the bill. A woman with an Italian greyhound said, “My, what an old hairy dog. . .and fat, too!” Anyway, we adopted Lucy ourselves. She was the most loving well-behaved dog (except when food was around) we ever had. We lost her two weeks after my mother died. Shortly afterwards, I was telling a co-worker how my mother had died and then Lucy died. The co-worker asked gently, “How old was she?” Tearing up I said, “About 13.” The co-worker said, “No, I mean how old was your mother?” She obviously wasn’t a dog person, but we both had a good laugh.
July 13th, 2009 at 2:59 pm
I always thought dog people were dog people, that a dog’s age and weight didn’t really make that big a difference, but I absolutely know what you mean about the old/fat comments. I had a dog once that looked like a swelled up tick. She didn’t even eat that much.
That story about “how old was she” cracked me up! That’s so funny.