After chewing through the plastic crate, I came home to Rilla's sweet little face sticking through the crate. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if she was alive or dead. Then I saw a pink tongue as she extracted herself from the hole. Whew!
This was a Friday. That morning, I had tested her by leaving her to see how long it took for her separation anxiety to take hold. Six minutes and she attempted to remove the tubes of the portable air conditioner. I needed help. I had already missed weddings and medical appointments. I certainly couldn't start missing work. Unfortunately, the organization I worked with only allowed phone calls if it was life or death. This rule had been weighing on me for a long time.
Separation anxiety can be worked with if not cured. Nothing about Rilla's case said "lost cause." But her case was complicated by mange (for now) and would take more time than I was able to commit.
I did not blow off commitments easily and the difficulty I was experiencing in getting help from the rescue organization was causing resentment. It felt like I was being forced to do something that was not the best for Rilla (returning her after we had finally bonded).
I arrived at the office and was told to let Rilla off the leash. This allowed her to run around with other dogs negating the lengths I had taken during the past several weeks to keep her away from other animals.
Rilla immediately retreated to a remote corner. My heart wrenched to see her right back where she started.
I went through her meds and treats on which I had written detailed post-its with the coordinator hoping she would pay attention to them. Would anyone care about the trick I figured out to get her to urinate outside? Did anyone care that Rilla now urinated every 8 or 9 hours down from 36 hours? Outside on the grass instead of down the front of my clothes in the basement out of fear?
I drove home, my heart twisting in pain. That morning Rilla had jumped onto my bed, walked up by my head and proceeded to rub her neck and back across my chest so that I'd rub her belly. A first! A huge sign of trust. And I just dumped her right back where I found her. How could I?
How could I? Well, here is where the resentment jumps in. The human feelings. I had to. I was at a point in my life where I had to watch out of for myself. I needed to take care of my energy level. And that is why this particular situation is so heart-wrenching. I felt forced to choose myself. A self I wasn't particular happy with at the time. But I had to choose me instead of innocent Rilla. Rilla who knew no better. Rilla who could come through this with some help; who needed no extra set-backs.
So I spent days on the rescue organization's Facebook page searching to find out where Rilla went. I finally tracked her down. The night I returned her she was kept at the office in an extra large plastic crate that she could not break out of. The next day she was taken to the vet who prescribed some anxiety medication after which she quickly responded to separation anxiety training. She was placed with an wonderful foster mother. She quickly found her forever family. The father works at home and the mother loves Rilla's sweet disposition.
It all worked out! Does that make me homo-sapian centric?
Well, either way, here's to Rilla Roo and her forever family. I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you. May you know only happiness for the rest of your sweet, cute life. I'll never forget you.
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