mexibear (mexibear) wrote,

On Saint Bernards, first impressions and adoption processes

So, last Wednesday, I went to visit my girlfriend at her mom's baked goods stand at theTuscarawas Valley Family Farm Market. I was pretty bummed that day, and was walking around when I saw the Tuscarawas Humane Society booth. I went over to ask about Saint Bernard rescue programs in Ohio, because I wanted a Saint Bernard but I wanted a rescue animal if at all possible. I was stunned when the girl looked at me, dumbfounded, and said "How WEIRD. We just got in a Saint Bernard puppy in like THREE DAYS AGO." It felt like fate. I instantly went from one of the worst moods ever to one of the best, and couldn't contain my excitement. When my roommate showed up in his car, I convinced him to take me out to see the puppy.

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I'd be lying if I said that "Harley", as the Saint was called, took to me right away. He hung his head in fear a lot, and whenever touched or scratched, dropped to his stomach wherever he was. This animal had issues, obviously. The volunteers there told me that after a day or so he comes around, but they believe he was neglected or abused. I didn't care much, he was big, dopey, and beautiful. In my excitement, and with only about ten minutes before the shelter closed, I hurriedly filled out the application with my name and address and references and such.

Big mistake.

I should of taken the application home. I should of thought it through, and picked my references and my address carefully. I know one of the leaders of the Farmer's Market, and someone familiar to the director of the Humane Society. Didn't think to put her name down. My girlfriend lives in a huge farmhouse, on a farm with a barn and almost two acres of lawn. Didn't use that address.

No. Instead, I scribbled down my address, my downtown, up three flights of stairs, right on the main street, address. I was frantic. I was smelly and dirty. And I'm sure my handwriting was awful. I'm sure I didn't seem like a very responsible pet owner.

So now, a week later, after a lot of phone calls, and another visit to the Humane Society (video below) I have been informed that the director of the HS will not release Harley to me. She doesn't want him to live in an apartment (a 3,000 sq ft. apartment.) I tell her that the apartment, while big, is out of the question anyway, and that I am not only prepared to house him in my girlfriend's huge farmhouse, (technically in the barn, until winter) all while I look for another place that will have a yard and will allow a dog that big inside, BUT I'm also willing to break my lease and do it NOW.

Yes, I am willing to break my lease on an amazing place for this dog.

But, she won't have any of it. She won't release him to someone who wants to keep him in a barn either, even though one of her volunteers told me that'd be perfectly fine. It's really hard not to take this personal. I know she just wants the best for him, and so do I. But if we wait for EVERYTHING IN LIFE to happen under the perfect circumstances, we won't experience anything. It hurts because it just seemed right, like it was supposed to happen. This Wednesday at the Farmer's Market, everyone seemed to be rooting for us. A lot of the vendors came by and asked if I had got him yet, and more than a few people have told me that we belong together. So I just don't get it.

But, still, my faith in fate and "however stuff's supposed to happen will happen" is unshaken. I don't know why I was shown this awesome guy. I don't know why it happened on a day when all I could think about was me and a Saint Bernard, on the road looking for adventure before it's too late. I have no clue as to how fate works. I just know it does.

Anyway, I'm glad I got to meet him, if only for a little while.

Any thoughts?
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