A little over a year ago, I was on my way home from my local shelter, where I am a volunteer, and there was a dog in the middle of the road. Now, anyone who knows me will tell you that I have a “type”. I am drawn to a stocky build and a big head. Though I would never crop a dogs ears or perform any cosmetic surgery on an animal, I have to admit that I do feel myself drawn to cropped ears. Well, this dog had it all. Stocky, blocky and cropped. So, I picked him up and put him in the car, where I took him back to the shelter and I called our local animal control to let them know that we had him and file a found report.
He was not in the best of shape. He was covered in fleas, so much so that the water turned red when we bathed him from all of the “flea dirt”. He was underweight and had open sores on some areas of his body. But, he was friendly and happy and loved just being around people. So, we fattened him up while he waited out his stray hold. No one claimed him, so I figured, why not, I’ll bring him home to foster at my house.
He came home with me and fit in right away. My dogs were fond of him and he loved my daughter. My husband named him Jefferson and we set about finding him a home.
We brought up the idea of keeping him if we didn’t already have 4 dogs. We knew that we were not a 5 dog family, after all, that would be crazy, right? But he fit in so well… But, eventually, a family came along and they were pretty awesome and they adopted him. He would only be a short drive a way and they said that we could visit.
But, it didn’t work out with the family and Jefferson returned to our home. We started working on finding him a home again. But why? Maybe he came back to us for a reason. Maybe it was fate? And who are we to say “No” to fate?