I stood at the kitchen sink, still trembling from the scuffle. I thought I had done the right thing, that I had made a good decision. I’d considered a number of options. I’d prayed about it. I’d been so sure. But all I was sure about now was that I’d made myself and two innocent dogs completely miserable.
The two dogs in question—our 10-year-old spaniel mix, Kelly, and the new addition to our household, Moses, a 7-year-old golden retriever—were currently eating their dinners in separate rooms while I pulled myself together. God only knew what outburst was going to come next.
Over the past year, my husband, Mike, and I had been thinking it would be nice for Kelly to have a companion. She’d grown up with a retriever in the house and they’d gotten along fine.
“I bet she’d like a friend,” I’d said to Mike, “and we can give an abandoned dog a good home. It’ll be nice to have two dogs again.”
I contacted an animal rescue organization and spoke to a woman named Kathy who was fostering a rescued golden. We arranged for Kelly, Mike and me to meet them at a nearby park. Mike and I fell for Moses immediately.
He was everything a golden should be, a big, cheerful, beautiful dog. Kelly and he seemed to hit it off. They did the sniffing thing, then wandered around at the end of their leashes, watching us.
“I think Moses would be perfect for Kelly,” I told Kathy. She nodded and produced some papers for me to sign.
“There’s a two-week trial period in case it doesn’t work out,” she said, almost wistfully. Then she handed the leash to me. “I’ll just say goodbye to him.”
She got down on her knees and hugged Moses hard around his big, fluffy neck. His tail gently slapped the ground. She whispered something in his ear. Then she stood. I thought I saw her wipe away a tear.
“I guess it’s easy to get attached,” I said.
“Especially to the ones like Moses. But that’s what I am. A foster-dog mom.”
“We’ll take good care of him.”
We headed home, a happy little pack—until we got through the front door. It all went downhill from there.
Now that Moses was on Kelly’s turf, the situation changed. The first mistake he made was to pick up one of Kelly’s toys. Kelly charged and snatched it right out of his mouth. Moses backed off. He had a look in his eyes as though he was thinking, What did I do?
In the following days, Kelly seemed agitated, jumping up on furniture to appear taller than Moses. She barked and pushed him with her front paws, as if to say, “You don’t belong here!”
Moses would try to escape, but when he was cornered he’d growl and push back. They competed for everything—food, toys, attention, space. Moses was way bigger than Kelly. We didn’t dare leave them alone. I could only imagine the mayhem.
Mike went out and got a big sturdy baby gate to cordon off separate areas for the dogs. That didn’t work. Kelly barked and jumped on one side of the gate and Moses barked and jumped on the other. What if they knocked it over?
“I feel so awful!” I wailed to Mike one night. “Kelly is so upset. It’s like we didn’t even ask her permission to bring another animal into her home.”
“She’s used to being top dog,” Mike said.
“And poor Moses. He looks so confused.”
Now I stood at the kitchen sink trying to get a breath. Their dinner that night had exploded into the worst confrontation yet. I’d put Moses’ bowl in the far corner of the kitchen and fed Kelly out in the hallway. Kelly turned and glared at Moses while he gobbled his food.
“Kelly, no!”
I tried to block her with my legs but she just shot through and jumped at Moses with a barrage of barking, pushing him away to get at his food. Moses growled and rammed against her, kibble flying everywhere. They knocked over the water bowl and I nearly fell as I dashed over.
“Stop!” I screamed as the dogs brawled. I struggled to separate them, my hands shaking so badly I couldn’t get a grip. Someone was going to get hurt this time.
Mike burst in and hauled on Moses’ collar with both hands. I held Kelly back, and sank to the floor. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I said, crying.
The dogs were as upset as I was, trembling, their hearts pounding. Mike took Moses and his bowl to another room, Kelly went back to her food and I tried to collect myself.
“Lord, what have I done?” I whispered. Mike had already reminded me that we still had the option of returning Moses.
I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling I get when I really beat up on myself. This was all my fault. I’d wanted another dog, but had Kelly? She was the grande dame here. Nobody had asked her. How could I be so selfish? And poor Moses! It wasn’t his fault.
Mike let Moses out in the yard and came to me in the kitchen. “I’m afraid we’ve got to give him back, Peggy. This isn’t working out.”
“What’s going to happen to him?” I asked.
“Maybe that Kathy lady can take him back.”
“I’m sure she’s already fostering a new dog. Moses is going to think no one loves him.”
I cried myself to sleep that night and called the rescue organization first thing in the morning. A woman came to take him that afternoon. “I’m so sorry, Moses,” I said as she led him to her car. He looked back at me with his deep black eyes, his tail drooping between his legs. A rejected dog rejected again.
Someone from the rescue group called a few weeks later. They had another golden, an 11-year-old named Brooks. Would we be interested in giving it another try?
“He’s real laid back. Kelly might approve.” A bit reluctantly, I agreed. Lord, I prayed, help me make it work this time. I looked at Kelly on the kitchen floor.
“You’d better be nice to this one,” I said. She looked up at me and wagged her tail.
Maybe it was because Brooks was such a sweet old gentleman that Kelly took to him right away. She still let him know she was the boss, but Brooks didn’t argue, so she relaxed. The two even napped together. It was like night and day.
But I still worried about poor Moses. What had become of him? I’d started to love that dog and now I couldn’t get him out of my mind or my prayers. I kept seeing the hurt in his eyes as he climbed into the car to leave.
That summer a letter came, inviting us to the rescue group’s annual picnic. “We’ll have to skip it,” I told Mike. “I don’t want to be reminded of Moses. What if we run into Kathy? What will I say?”
“I think we should go,” Mike said. “It’ll be okay.”
I wasn’t sure about it, but I agreed. At the park we mingled among dozens of rescue families and their dogs. Everyone remarked at how well Brooks was doing. I’d begun to relax when I spotted a familiar dog. A big, fluffy golden dog.
Moses.
Sitting in the grass beside him was Kathy. Moses was still without a permanent home. The guilt welled up in me as we walked over to them. “I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way, for you to have to take him back,” I said. “You did everything right,” she said. “But there is one thing I need to say.”
I glanced nervously at Mike. Here it comes, I thought.
“I missed Moses terribly when he left me,” Kathy continued. “I didn’t realize how much I loved him. I tried to push him out of my mind, but I couldn’t. And, well, when I heard you weren’t able to keep him it seemed almost like it was meant to be. You see, Moses has his forever home. I adopted him.”
I grabbed Kathy in a giant bear hug. Kelly and Brooks and Moses all barked and wagged their tails. Someone had rescued Moses after all, someone who had been watching out for all of us all along.
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