Pendragon Gets a Dog!

Be warned, the story is bittersweet and very sad before the happy ending.

My partner and I wanted a dog, but with both of us working, and my work schedule being unreliable, we knew we didn't have time to train a puppy. We decided to try to adopt an adult dog, as they're often seen as "less desirable" anyways.

Pros: personality is more developped and known beforehand
Cons: having to find someone giving up a dog

I searched online and in the local newspaper, checking rescues and classified ads for months. I'd apply and then either never hear back or be told no. It was crushing to know that I could go buy a puppy and nobody would bat an eye, but trying to be more responsible meant getting turned down so many times.

Then I met Max. Max was being fostered by our neighbour. She told me the organization, and I applied. Max, however, loved kids, and my partner and I aren't planning on having any, so that was another no. This time, though, the rescue agency came back to me with "We have another dog that would be a better fit. Are you interested?"

Hell yes I was interested.

We did the phone interview and sent pictures of our home in lieu of inspection and were cleared - we were adopting Tommy, who we'd rename Comet.

The rescue put us in touch with his foster family (in Egypt), presumably so we could find out straight from them things like what sort of toys he likes, and we could show them how well he was adjusting to life in Canada.

We were to get Comet at the airport. My partner booked the day off from work, my mother cleared her schedule to drive us, I was getting my dog.

The night before, I got a message from the foster mom: "We've made a terrible mistake, we want our dog back."

I was crushed.

Can they do that? was all I could think. Had I actually just gotten declined again?

The rescue didn't respond to the situation, so we went to the airport as planned. The rescue said it was up to us whether we kept the dog or not, but he was not going back to Egypt. We decided that yes, we would continue forward.

The family had a local friend there to pick up my dog. The friend saw us and how well-prepared we were, and saw that we waited for over 8 hours, and said we were a good fit for the dog, much better than him being sent on a plane again.

Comet came home with us.

Then the harassment started. The rescue had informed us not two days before getting Comet that he was to be on a strict raw food diet, saying it's more natural for all dogs and citing a Netflix documentary. I looked at veterinary websites, the American Kennel Club, the Canadian Kennel Club, all over the internet, and all I could find were blogs agreeing with her, and scientific reports disagreeing, so my partner and I agreed to feed the dog what the vet recommended once we got an appointment (the next day). In the meantime, one day of whatever would be fine.

Food was soon a non-issue in our eyes. I started getting upwards of forty messages a day from the foster family begging for their dog back. Meanwhile, we'd signed a contract with the rescue saying that if we didn't keep the dog, he'd go back to the rescue. Our hands were tied, but the fosters didn't accept that.

I stopped answering unknown numbers on my phone, I blocked contacts, but they would get a new friend to contact me on their behalf, and leave messages. By the time their lawyer called, I was pissed. He left a message. I called back and I told them what was going on from my perspective. The harrassment stopped. It was a miracle.

And then a letter came. I had a package to pick up.

Certified mail.

A different lawyer was threatening to sue me for stealing this dog.

We contacted the rescue. They said that nobody had contacted them, so it wasn't their problem. We asked the new lawyer to take it up with the rescue. They scheduled a phone call with me.

They tried to guilt me into breaking a contract and putting my dog on a plane, never to see him again.

I, again, told them my side of the story. They finally decided that they should talk to the rescue.

Meanwhile, my partner and I were having panic attacks every time my phone rang, or buzzed, or did anything at all. We called the rescue, tearfully, and asked them to rehome our Comet. The foster family had sent me a message asking if the could come see him, at least for a proper goodbye. We felt we were no longer safe, nor could we keep him safe.

After a few weeks of taking care of a dog I wasn't, for my own safety, allowed to keep, we met his new adoptive family and he was gone.

After a few more weeks of healing, I started looking for a dog again, but more carefully this time. My motto was "Humane Society or bust". I'd check every day. Dogs came and went quickly.

We went in for a visit to our local one, and the only option was a bonded pair of large dogs. As badly as we wanted canine companionship, we agreed that it would be an unwise decision.

I started checking the Humane Societies in other townships. A neighbouring town had a dozen or so dogs listed, so my partner took the day off from work and we went down to meet some of them. That's the day I learned that Humane Societies share names, but are not actually connected. Just because one has a bunch of cats and no dogs, doesn't mean they're all like that, and doesn't mean they'll share among themselves.

We found Eddie that day and, after about 8 hours of waiting and paperwork and waiting and meetings and waiting, brought him home.

He's adjusted very well. He likes having a choice of three couches to stretch out on during the day. He's the best behaved dog I've ever had. I can put my lunch on the couch and he'll look at it, but he won't touch unless I say ok (which I don't, because of my love of either chocolate or garlic, and his already sensitive stomach)

See, it did have a happy ending. But getting there was like reliving my divorce, and nothing I'd ever wish on another human.