What makes us decide when and how and where to welcome a new pet into our homes, after suffering the loss of a dearly loved pet?
 
I thought a lot about that today, as I drove to and from Mishawaka, Indiana.  Three hours across the bottom of Lake Michigan and into Indiana, and most of it through a blinding rainstorm.  All to meet two prospective dogs - Tomlin and Blue Moon, both rescues of the Homeward Bound Animal Welfare Group, founded and run by Jen Schwartz.  I was hoping that one of them might pass muster with Bettina, who has been depressed and lost without her steadfast companion, Hebert.

I didn't wake Hebert up from his exploratory surgery on June 6th.  What all of us were expecting to be a perfectly routine "take something out of Hebert's stomach that he ate, again," wasn't routine at all.  Dr. Bhatt had asked to assist with the surgery, and as we exchanged glances over our surgical masks when we both saw the gastric carcinoma that had spread from Hebert's stomach to his upper intestines, I knew what I had to do. So, after asking everyone to leave the surgery room, I cranked up his gas anesthesia, held his little paw, sang him his special song, and administered a very small dose of euthanasia solution through his IV line. 

I sang to him until the cardiac monitor registered only a flat line. Then I closed his surgical incision carefully, took him off the surgery table, and still masked and gowned, sat on the floor and held him a long time.

We often think that the twisting sorrow that we feel when we lose a pet belongs to us alone, but it really is shared pain.  Bettina wouldn't even eat for many days unless I continued to put Hebert's food bowl down alongside hers at breakfast and dinner time.  She wouldn't go outside unless I went out first, and minus Hebert's "it's time to go to work" cues each morning, she became surprised and flighty when it was time to leave.  Always unnerved by thunderstorms, she now became inconsolable.  At work each day, my formerly busy little Bettina lay in her bed from the time we arrived until it was time to go home each night.
 
So, I did what some of us do when we lose a pet and see the fallout.  I did what, years ago as a new veterinarian, shocked and appalled me when I saw my clients do it. I began to put out feelers, to try to find a dog for my dog.  Did I personally feel ready for a new dog so soon?  Not exactly.  It seemed TOO soon. But Bettina needed a companion, just as Hebert had needed Bettina when Lizzie passed, and just as Lizzie had needed Hebert when she lost her large male dog companion.  And, "soon" is subjective.  I enjoy wonderful relationships with clients who sometimes visit, years after they have lost a pet.  They can't bear to share their lives with a new pet yet; it seems too soon.  And, I see amazing relationships between other clients and their new pets - relationships that began sometimes just hours after the loss of a loved pet.
 
I will never forget, some years ago, guiding a client through those last few minutes with her beautiful senior Collie mix, Princess.  It was a busy day, and before entering the room, I had just fielded a call from a distraught client, completely overwhelmed with three small pet-allergic children, who realized that she was going to have to give up her male Golden Retriever.  I told her we'd help her to find a new home for him, and went into my appointment with Princess and her owner.  Now, looking down at Princess' still form, I asked my client if she'd like a few minutes alone with her deceased pet. 

"Dr. Mitchell?" she slowly asked. "Do you think that Princess would think it disloyal if I were to get another dog right away?" 

"No....I think she'd want you to be happy," I told her.  "Did you have any special kind of dog in mind?"
 
She thought about that a minute, and then replied that she thought someone different would be good.  A  male, for starters.  And definitely not a Collie, someone like...a Retriever of some kind. "Please wait just a minute", I asked her.  I ran to the phone, called my client who was looking for a home for her dog, and asked if she was ready to place him with the best home that she could ever hope for him to have.  She excitedly said yes.  I asked her to hold, ran back to my client, and asked her if she meant, "right away" as in - NOW.  Her head came up. “Why?  Do you know of a dog who needs a home now?" she asked.  
 
"Do you want to talk to the owner of the dog that I think needs to be YOUR dog?", I asked in response. We got the two women taking by phone, and an hour later my client arrived back at the hospital to show me her new dog.  I still see that dog and that client, even though she moved to Maine some years ago.  She visits friends in town several times a year, and whenever she does, she brings her boy in for a check-up. They both got what they needed, I've often thought.

And maybe I did today, too.  I met Jen of Homeward Bound and her wonderful staff, and looked at both Tomlin and Blue Moon.
 
I was surprised by both of them as much as I liked both of them.  Blue Moon, who initially appealed to me the most, was tinier and even more skittery-nervous than Bettina.  He didn't want to come near me. Tomlin was much bigger than I expected; he might have been 13 pounds when he arrived at HB, but he looked to be double that now.  And he was much more laid back than the typical Terrier mix.  And kind of goofy, too.  Neither of them were as elegant-looking as Hebert or had his soft sweetness,  I briefly thought, before forcing myself to not make comparisons.  Both were young and relatively healthy.  I usually don't adopt young and healthy, and had planned to find another rescued pet more like Francine (adopted from the McHenry Animal Shelter, where someone had dumped her at age 14), or Thibideaux, adopted from Col. Potter Cairn Terrier Rescue at age 8), or my Bullmastiff Canuke (adopted at age 7 after his breeding career was over), or Jack (rescued by CRUSA after a horrific hit-by-car injury that cost him one leg).  All pets who I didn't get to enjoy sharing my life with, for as long as I would have liked.
 
Several conversations with staff members who were impacted by the untimely loss of each of these pets finally culminated in Nurse Jill steering me to Petfinder and asking me why I didn't feel that I deserved someone young and healthy as a companion for Bettina.  I replied that it wasn't a matter of "deserved" as much as it was knowing that someone else will always adopt the young and healthy ones. "Not really," she said, as she scrolled though page after page after page of young, healthy, adoptable pets, all seeking homes, all at shelters within a few hours of Chicagoland.
 
So, I talked to CRUSA, and they had several adoptable Cairns.  But all were recent puppy mill rescues, and while all had great potential for being wonderful pets on their own, none seemed that they would have provided Bettina with the quiet steadiness that Hebert provided.  Col. Potter's had wonderful Cairns too, but none that seemed to be potentially good matches for Bettina. Back to PetFinder.  It wasn't just Blue Moon and Tomlin that caught my eye. I clicked, at one point, on the "see more pets from this shelter" link after looking at those two, and scrolled though the pets available through Homeward Bound.    I looked at Mango, and Jujube, and Bergamot, and Fabriano, and Tomato, and dozens more, from tiny to giant breeds, from young pets dumped or abandoned, to senior pets whose owners had died.  
 
This seemed like a good place, I thought to myself (all the while knowing that there are dozens of good places right here in Illinois).  I liked their approach to adoption though, and the personal interest that was taken in my application, and the fact that they asked for (and actually checked) three references, and the good medical care that they took of their pets.  And the no-nonsense "you'll do this on the schedule of our volunteers" approach to meeting their dogs.  Nicole of HB was as straightforward with me on-line as Jen was in person when I met her.  So I took the available time of 4:30 on Saturday to meet Tomlin and Blue Moon, and after accidentally driving clear to Elkhart in the driving rain and having to backtrack along 80 past Mishawaka to South Bend where the dogs were being shown that day, finally connected.  
 
Bettina, being completely wacked out by the nonstop rainstorm and lightening, didn't connect with anyone.  She sat there, a miserable shivering lump, when I tried to introduce her to Blue Moon and Tomlin.  She didn't want to go for a walk with either of them, and only revived herself to snarl at a much larger dog that was passing through. So, I took a big chance, and opted for someone, who while lacking Hebert's elegant steadiness, more than made up for it with soulful eyes and a desire to comfort as much as he sought comfort.  Our new companion rode in a crate specially prepared for him as Homeward Bound had suggested, until he threw up all over himself near the end of our first hour back on the road.  We stopped, wiped him down with the damp towels that experience has taught me to carry for a good long while with any new pet, deodorized him, and allowed him to lay where he wanted - next to Bettina.

And so, Bettina rode the remaining two hours home, eyes closed finally, snuggled up next to Tomlin.  He let her put her head on top of him (her "I'm the boss!" pose).  And after joyfully rolling around in the grass in the back yard, and incredulously barking at the deer that Bettina helpfully pointed out to him, he came back in and has laid at my feet all evening.  Bettina lays nearby, her bed piled with the toys she keeps bringing Tomlin to show him that they are HERS and not HIS.  She is pleased that he respects this.  He nosed Emmett once. Emmett rose up on his two back feet, showed that he was taller (another incredulous look from Tomlin), and for good measure smacked the beejeebers out of him.  Tomlin hasn't dared to even look at the cat since.  This pleases Emmett.

He's still camped out under my chair.  My new, really cool dog, is home.  I think I'll call him Walter.  He looks like a Walter.  Or maybe a Wally.  And as Jen Schwartz had asked, he will have a home for life.
 
But Blue Moon, and Jujube, and Tomato, and the rest of the gang are still looking for homes.  Go to Homeward Bound and look.   Just look.  It's less than three hours away from Schaumburg.  Homeward Bound also accept donations of all kinds, and you can donate right on their webpage.