This has nothing to do with today's struggle but where else do I put it?
When I was a kid, my father gave my brother and me a German Shepherd puppy. We named him Bandit. Bandit was with us for a very long time but, unfortunately, he didn't have the best life. Because my dad never thought a dog that had a back yard needed to go for walks, Bandit never got to leave the yard. My dad also didn't believe in neutering dogs so we had this big, intact, unsocialized dog in our back yard. He was loving and affectionate to us, of course, but was aggressive towards other dogs. One day, one of my step-brothers let him escape through the gate and he attacked a dog on a leash that someone was walking. He didn't do any damage but my dad grabbed him, tossed him into the back yard, threw a brick at him, and then went out to find the largest chain he could. From that day on he was chained in the back yard. But my step-mother didn't want him near the house so he was put in the very back part of the back yard. He had a dog house and was fed once a day but otherwise he was pretty lonely. Anyone who knows my situation as a child knows that my time wasn't my own. I couldn't go outside to spend time with him because I was "needed" inside for all of the house cleaning and cooking and laundry for seven people. I would go and pet him and give him hugs whenever I could but it was never enough.
Bandit did have company. We had a small mix-breed dog named Tracey that was allowed to have freedom in the back yard. But I don't know how much time she spent with him. She wasn't fixed either and ended up pregnant. Only one puppy survived that litter and she barely made it. He (and her puppies) were way too big for her. The surviving puppy was named "Lucky".
We eventually moved to another house with a smaller back yard and Bandit was still on a chain but at least he was closer to the back door. He was probably pretty happy then since his situation changed.
Then suddenly one day my father decided we could no longer take care of three dogs. He said Bandit had to go because he was the oldest and made us choose between Lucky and Tracey. Tracey was a nervous little dog and I didn't think she would do well at the humane society. We decided Lucky would be the easiest to adopt out because the was young, cute, and friendly. Tracey was my least favorite dog of the three but my brother and I tried to make the right decisions for the dogs and we weren't allowed to keep Bandit. This was done during a short period of time that my step-mother and her brood were away from the house while divorce was contemplated. Unfortunately they came back. That's when I left home for good.
Anyway, back to the "getting rid of the dogs". Bandit was about the same age that Theo is now. I was 17 years old. We took Bandit and Lucky to the humane society to turn them over. My dad refused to even give a donation, which I thought was lame. I was crying the whole time because I loved Bandit very much. As we were leaving my father gave me a stern look and said that I wasn't making it any easier by crying. Was it my job to make it easier to give away my dog just because he was old? Little did my father know that those weren't the last tears I'd ever cry for Bandit. I cry about him every time I think of him. Which is quite often. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I don't like crying over him but I think he deserves to be remembered. But I can't remember him without crying.
The one thing I can be thankful for that day is that Bandit was eager to walk away down the hall with the stranger. He never looked back. If he had looked back at me, or tried to stay with us in that lobby but was pulled away then my thoughts of him would be even more haunted. And I don't know if I could handle that.
One final thing: As I am writing this, Theo is right outside the office door on his bed. Tears are running down my face because I can't think of Bandit without crying. I don't know if it has anything to do with me writing this or being upset but Theo just woke up from his nap and let out a series of mournful howls. And he doesn't usually do that. I don't know if he was still asleep and howling or woke up, but he did it several times. Maybe it's him feeling empathy for me, or maybe it's Bandit communicating with me in his own mysterious way.
