Monday, February 4, 2008

8 years of Honeydog

Eight years ago today I was standing in the Leon County Humane Society parking lot trying to convince a 4 month old Honeydog to get in the backseat of my 1981 Monte Carlo. This after I had spent 35 minutes convincing the cranky woman behind the counter that I would not, in fact, dump the puppy off in the woods anywhere or neglect to feed it, bathe it, or give it water, and that I would get it vaccinated yearly. It couldn’t have been clearer that she fully expected the dog to be dropped off at the pound again with a few weeks, at most. I’ve thought about sending the humane society a letter a few times, maybe with a photo of Honey in one of the weirder places she’s been, like the Native American Museum in the Painted Desert or the Versace store on South Beach, or one of the many, many National Forests around the country, and thanking them for letting me adopt her. I don’t know if this is motivated by the total worthless feeling I get whenever I think of that evil woman who clearly thought I was going to mistreat the dog, and a need to say to them “see?!?!?! I’ still a good mommy, you meanies” or what. I’m sure they can’t still remember her, she was a little pitmix puppy in a shelter about 2 hours from death eight years ago. I remember also that evening my mother, apoplectic, telling me that I had made a stupid decision that I would “regret for years” by adopting her. You would have thought I was pregnant at 12 or something. I seriously have no idea why nobody thought I could handle a dog. Turns out, though, being adopted by Honey was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve been incredibly privileged to share the past eight years with her, and it must be that I’m so profoundly grateful for her that I feel the need to thank anyone, the vets, the people at the pound, even though they could not have been plainer that they thought I was a horribly undeserving person, strangers who pet her on the street, and everyone who’s nice to her, from the bottom of my heart. I really should be thanking her, but how do you thank a dog? With veal? With cuddles? With neck rubs and medicine when she needs it? balls or carrides? I’ve been trying to figure that out for eight years. If you have any ideas, please let me know.

1 comment:

autumnday said...

Oh, Linds. That was a beautiful piece about your Honeydog. It's amazing (and has to be a bit comforting) that she's showing so much acknowledgement of what you and Cam are doing to make her better. She understands the love you have for her.

See, cats? I love 'em...but they're not so much into showing you they give a flying f---. :)

Thinking of you guys and sending good ju-ju.