Falstaff has a new home!

A Bay Area couple took him for a test-drive one weekend, and now he's theirs! Lydia at the rescue group said they have questions for me, and I said to send them my email address, but so far I haven't heard. I'm happy someone took him. I'd like to think Frank and I and his mother filed some of Falstaff's rough edges down.

a photo of the edge of the earth

More Falstaff updates

here is where Falstaff is listed by the rescue group.
http://search.petfinder.com/petnote/displaypet.cgi?petid=6856151

Lydia, who runs Special Pets Rescue, sent me email saying that Falstaff was having a test visit with a Bay Area couple who are crazy about him. In her next email, she asked if I was open to fostering because I'd done such a good job with Falstaff. I nearly cried, having felt like such a total failure with him the whole time -- I told her it was largely Frank and his mom who civilized the dog. But it did give me new confidence.

And, aha! I saw a pattern: I've quit a few jobs in my life, based on how I felt inside about them, which was totally lousy, only to have people say, oh, you were doing such a good job, why do you want to leave. What's the lesson here? Ask for more feedback? Do a satisfaction survey? Assume that unless I hear otherwise, I'm doing fine? My default setting is just the opposite. And even when I get good feedback, I still feel like an impostor. "Boy, am I fooling them." Can I get an amen?

A faint hum in my life

You know how your ears ring after a long loud noise stops? Well, now that Falstaff's continuous-motion-machine is not in my life, there's this kind of a hum leftover -- I catch myself thinking suddenly, "What's he getting into?" or "How long has he been with Frank's mom today?" or I brace myself when the door opens, but it's only Frank and Sturmz, no explosion of wiggle and jump. I'm suspended between "whew" and "waahh."

Falstaff goes out with a bang

I drove Falstaff to Sabastopol yesterday, a trip of about 3.5 hours south. We met the gal who runs Special Pets Rescue, Lydia, and the foster mom, Shawn, and the resident girl dog, Ayowan(?).

Falstaff of course made no effort to make a good impression -- after kissing up to Ayowan, he grabbed the tennis ball from her and raced around the open field, looking over his shoulder like "Chase me!" Then he dodged all three of us and took a tour of the house, flew back out and, in one fluid motion, grabbed up a dead gopher and kept running. Since in those situations he takes my screams of "leave it!" to mean "grab it and get away fast!" I got ahold of him and pried his jaws open and shook the critter out. No way was I touching it.

Well, I figure there will be no honeymoon period, and Shawn professes to like the chaos that comes with fostering, so with Falstaff she will not be disappointed.

I had a good cry on the way down there, but when it came to the actual transfer I felt embarassed by his performance and by their reaction to my 2 pages of notes on him and to the package of cream cheese and tube of liverwurst I had included with the inventory of his belongings.

Well, I don't know how other people give up their dogs, but that was how I did it.
Bon voyage, baby. It was never dull.

So Long, Falstaff (I can't say goodbye)

After a couple of months of advertising and postering and posting on the web, a mixed-breed rescue group out of Lake County (northeast of us) has room for Falstaff. I'm supposed to bring him to them tomorrow afternoon.

He's been so much better for the last month, even coming back to check in when we're on off-leash walks.

So now the second-guessing starts, the self-doubt. Was I really just not patient enough, didn't I have enough faith, was growing up all that was needed, am I just repeating some old losses (moving a lot, other wounds)? Am I incapable of crafting a long-lasting relationship? Do I have the right to set my own terms for a canine companion? People who know me and have seen me with him have laughed at the mismatch, yet the doubts continue....

Doggie news

First a really sad note: My sister's dog Cena, only two and a half, dropped dead while playing frisbee. Some thoughts and prayers for Korie and Kate would be much appreciated, as they grieve the huge empty spot in their lives.

On a mixed note: I've decided to find a new home for Falstaff. He's such a wonderful dog, he deserves an active family where his energy will be an asset rather than a irritant. He's listed on Yahoo! and craigslist and a place called nextdaypets.com. A couple from North Carolina was interested in him, but we both realized at the same time that shipping would prove a problem (airlines refuse to transport pets if the temperature at either end is over 85 degrees, not too much of a stretch for North Carolina). So the search continues. I know they're out there.

Another Sporadic Update

First day of summer yesterday, a little trip to the beach, too lazy to carry my shoes, hot sand, fairly severe burns on my soles and toes. Clinic appointment today. Just proves I don't get out enough.

Falstaff's listening more, but I'm still not sure he's the right dog for me. It's still REALLY hard to get him to listen with all the stuff out there -- birds other dogs, what Sturmz is doing, all those smells. Reminds me of the guy who hits the mule over the head with a 2x4 and says, "First, you gotta get his attention."

I'm still working too much, but the Hudsons (my weekend job employers) are headed for Maui at beginning of July for a month. Not a moment too soon for me to get weekends off. Yard sales! Church! Naps!