The doorbell rang a few minutes ago. It was Dr. Chastain and her friend to pick up Buster.
I’m moving to Oregon. I’ll be living with my nephew for a while, and his landlord’s policy is not to allow pets, so I had to find a home for Buster. Fortunately, I was able to find him a good home with my doctor from the VA clinic. Her dog had to be put to sleep because he was really sick. His name was Buster, too. Funny coincidence, huh?
So here I am with 1½ hours to go before I have to be at work (2nd to last day). I just gave away my best friend in the whole world and I feel miserable. I have plenty of kleenex for now, but I’d better buy more before I come home from work.
It’ll seem odd not to say “Okay, Buster. I gotta go to work! I’ll see you at Lunchtime!” This time I won’t. Maybe I’ll just have lunch at work?
“Hi, boss, I can’t come in today. I just had to give my dog away and I’m extremely depressed.”
I mean, really, it’s your second to last day anyway, what are they going to do, fire you?
Actually, when my mom’s late cat Muffin had to be put down (kidney failure due to advanced old age), she called in sick to work a couple of days because she was so depressed. Her boss was amazingly understanding about it.
Part of the reason I’m going out west is so I can get better treatment for my depression (and to depart depressing life circumstances). Still, I think that it’ll be better for me to go to work, since it’ll probably be theraputic for me. I really like the people I work with, and that’ll help me keep my mind off my troubles.
I kept it together pretty well, though. I didn’t want to upset the little guy. When I got inside, though, boy did I start blubbering!
I just unwrapped a little peppermint patty (I keep a bag of them next to the computer) and just realized there’s no “little guy” waiting for the last little corner of the thing.
Maybe I’ll call in anyway. I don’t know that they’d want their door greeter to be breaking into tears at unexpected moments. It might put the customers off.
My heart goes out to you. Maybe you can call Buster once you’re settled. You did say your coming to the pacific northwest to help your depression? You’ll need to find a place you can have a pet before winter. Winters here can be very depressing. Pets are proven to be good for one’s mental and physical health.
Did you know there’s going to be a dopefest half (approx) way between Portland and Seattle in June? You should go!
Good Luck.
As a chronic depression sufferer, I must say that in extremely upsetting circumstances, like, oh, having to give up a beloved pet, indulging in a good sulk-and-cry can be very therapeutic. Just don’t carry it to extremes. Giving yourself a day so you can fall apart in peace is a good thing- not pulling yourself back together afterward is not a good thing.
Also, most places that don’t allow pets usually mean dogs and cats. Small caged animals or birds are usually permitted, or at least turned a blind eye to. And really, birds, especially cockatiels, are great. One caveat, though, they like lots of attention, and need their person home. I had a cockatiel once who was my bestest buddy in the world until I took a second job. Then he got very angry because I wasn’t home weekend nights to play with him and turned mean.
Well, it’s a little less than 24 hours since I gave Buster away. I hope he wasn’t too distressed at spending the night in a strange home (he’s lived here since he was a puppy). I know he’ll get a lot of attention and affection (they are going to get him fixed, however). :eek:
I’m feeling a little better now. I don’t choke up so bad when I talk about it and thinking about it doesn’t make me automatically reach for the Kleenex.
It’s funny all the little habits one acquires when you have a pet. Things you never notice until they’re not there to participate. Last night I was unwrapping a Peppermint Patty (one of the little ones that come in a bag). I took two bites of it and caught myself, just for a moment, waiting for the dog to come bounding into the computer room to get his share. Likewise, it felt a bit unreal to cook something for dinner without an audience. Nobody danced backwards on his hind legs in front of me while I took my plate of linguini into the living room to eat while watching the (taped) Tonight show. At one point I had to remind myself that I had to finish it all – no one is there to eat the last bit if I just set the plate on the floor. Nobody jumped up on the bed after I retired for the day and walked across my body so he could curl up against my back. Nobody woke me an hour before it was time to get up because he had to go NOW!
I feel for you, SSgtBaloo. It is the little things, always.
My step-dad’s dog was a good friend of mine…she always sat underneath my chair when I was there, and finished my ice cream for me (licked the bowl clean.) After she was killed (she got off her leash while being walked and a car hit her), the first time we had ice cream, I finished mine and started to put the bowl down…and burst into tears.
The first dog I ever had was a tiny toy poodle. As such, I had to be careful where I’d put my feet down - he was so small that he could have gotten badly hurt if stepped on. If I was on the couch with my feet up, I’d always look at the floor to make sure he wasn’t lying there by the side of it when I got up.
It took me about 10 years after he died to quit doing that whenever I was at my parents’ house.
I’m sorry you had to find another home for your doggie, but be glad you were able to find a good one! So many pets never have even one. Buster will always be loved.
