The online dating is at a standstill, by choice. Well mostly by choice (or lack thereof). I have no interest in it right now, which is a good thing because there currently aren’t any interesting men online. I am down to Match, and that is only because I paid for 6 months so I’m leaving it active, for now.
Thankfully one of the two men I met in person is still in my life. You may recall at the end of my blog post “The Fed,” I told you I had one of the best dates I’ve ever been on that culminated with a kiss during which a random firework went off. It is that man. He is one of the reasons I’ve halted the online dating. I don’t know if it will go anywhere, but we enjoy each others’ company very much. The other man I met in person? Your guess is as good as mine. After almost a year since we connected, he is now regretfully silent. As has been the case since I started this blog, neither wants me to write about them. I’m still going to honor that request.
I titled my blog as I did because I hoped there would come a day when I’d no longer “have” to talk about online dating. In other words, there would come a day I wouldn’t have to date because I found someone special. No online dating and men who want to be left out of my blog have me searching for topics to write about in the “universe” and/or “life” categories. This post perhaps applies to both.
One morning in early January of 2019 I looked out my back window and there was a little brown dog in my backyard. I don’t have a little brown dog. There is no way for a dog to get into my yard on it’s own unless it hopped the 6′ fence. No way a little dog was jumping the fence. I was baffled how he got there. After sharing this with friends, we came to the conclusion that the dog was outside my house and someone thought it was mine and put him in my backyard. If someone was just dumping him, there’s a house across the street with dogs and a much lower front yard fence.
This happened during a period of days when it was unusually cold for Tucson, well below freezing for days. It had even snowed. It was freezing cold outside and the little guy was shivering uncontrollably. He was also terrified and would not come to me. Making it worse was my two 40 pound dogs scaring him more, not because they bothered him much, but because they are large and strange to him. He had hidden behind my storage shed so I made him a makeshift bed back there and put food and water out for him.
I had some things I had to get done so I left him alone for a while. A few hours later I sat down outside on the ground trying to be as least threatening as I could. He finally came to me. I think he understood I was there to help him and that my dogs weren’t going to hurt him. After that, he trotted into the house like he’d always been there and plopped down on one of the big dog beds. I could tell he was old. I called him “Grampy.”
I love dogs. I’ve had them most of my life. But I already had two and couldn’t keep another one. He had a collar but no tag. I took him to my vet and he wasn’t chipped. Thus began the process of trying to find his person. I reported that I had found him everywhere I could think of. I looked through a ton of lost dog reports on different sites. There was one dog reported to Pima Animal Care Center (the county dog “pound”) that could be the same dog, but there was no picture. Then a friend suggested I report it on NextDoor. I did so the following morning. Shortly thereafter a woman sent me a message that the dog I found looked like a dog reported missing. I was able to connect with the owner and he came to get Grampy.
Grampy was 13 years old. His given name is “Tico.” He went missing Christmas day which means he had been gone 10 days by the time I got him! The owners’ young daughter was so distraught she could barely eat. They lived quite a distance from me. We have no idea how he got so far or how he survived that long. The owners’ other 2 dogs are chipped, but not Grampy even though his person said it’s not the 1st time he’s gotten out. I told him if Grampy had a tag with his name and phone number he would have gotten him back at least a day sooner. Hopefully he has a tag now and it was a happy ending for all.
Fast forward to a week ago. I’m driving home and I see a huge 4 x 4 truck stopped in the middle of the road (it’s a side street so there wasn’t any traffic). He had stopped because there was a little dog who kept going into the road and he couldn’t drive without crushing the dog. The poor little guy wasn’t moving very fast and his tongue was hanging all the way out. I normally don’t try to get dogs that are running around because I’m afraid I’m going to chase them into traffic. This little guy didn’t have much fight in him and I was able to pick him up. The dude in the truck said he couldn’t take him. So I did. No way I’m leaving a little, and a now obviously very old dog to fend for himself on the street. If I hadn’t been able to grab him and pick him up it would be one thing. I was able to get him. I couldn’t live with myself if I left him there.
When we got to my house it was clear he’s very old. He can barely walk, see or hear. He had no tag, not even a collar. Once again I found myself starting the process of trying to find the dogs’ person. Again, I reported him “found” to all the appropriate places: Pima Animal Care Center, Humane Society, Facebook Lost and Found Pets, NextDoor, Pawboost, Craigslist, etc. No reports of an old, black, possibly chihuahua mix male dog that matched his description. Various people on the sites expressed interest in taking him. I was still hoping to find his person. I had found the dog too late in the day to take him to a vet to see if he was chipped. I took him to the vet the next day and he is not chipped. The ladies at the vet all loved him – he’s a sweet, cute little old guy. If I couldn’t find his person, or another home if necessary, one of the ladies there would probably take him.
I still have 2 dogs and don’t want another one. 3 days after I found him I was facing the fact that I either had to find him a home, take him to PACC, or make the difficult decision to euthanize a very old dog who could barely walk and may be in pain. My last resort was to drive around the neighborhood and look for flyers. The night before I was prepared to do just that my brother took it upon himself to do so. After driving around for a while and finding nothing, he was getting ready to give up and go home when he saw a single small flyer. It looked like the dog I’d found, but the pics weren’t very clear.
It was late when my bro found the flyer so I waited until the following morning to contact the number on the flyer. It was the dog she’d been missing for days. I reunited them shortly thereafter. I knew he is old, and he is – 16 to be exact. I told her he needs a collar and name tag (the dog is named Dozzer). She said he has a collar and tag. Dozzer was being “watched” by the owner’s ex-husband and he took the collar off. Dumbass.
Once again the universe sent me a little old dog to take care of. With the invaluable help of others, once again I was able to reunite him with his owner.
Those are not the only 2 old male dogs I’ve helped though. At work one day about 20 years ago, a co-worker asked if I knew anyone who wanted a dog. As a matter of fact I did. Me! It had been awhile since I had a dog and I was ready for one. The dogs person was moving out of state and to a place where he couldn’t take his dog. His name was Chico, and I was his last resort. If I couldn’t take him he would have to go to a property with a bunch of other dogs and live outside. Chico loved people. Although grateful he had someplace to go besides PACC, he needed a new person not a ranch. I was told he was 10 years old when I got him, but he was actually at least 15. He was a healthy dog for his age other than his propensity to puke fairly frequently. I really loved that dog.
I had him 6 years until he let me know he was ready to go. His last dog license said he was 23! I don’t think he was quite that old, but based on what his previous owner told me after Chico died, he was a tough dog. His tag said he was a spaniel mix. He had a purple tongue so I thought he had Chow in him and I was right. But he wasn’t a spaniel mix, he was a pitbull/Chow mix. PACC had put “spaniel” on his license because otherwise people might think he’s violent. Chico was the furthest thing from violent He was the sweetest dog I ever had.
His previous owner told me more. He had rescued Chico from PACC. This was long before it became what it is now which is a primarily no kill shelter. Chico was going to be euthanized the next day. His new person needed a dog on his rural property. Although he thought Chico was too small for his needs – about 40 pounds – he took him figuring he was going to die anyway so why not take a chance.
Not too long after he was adopted by his previous person, Chico was attacked by coyotes and he was hurt pretty bad. A choice had to be made quickly to either get him medical attention to save his life, or put him down. Clearly the choice was to save him. I will be forever grateful for that. For reasons I am not going into, at least for now, that sweet old dog helped save my life. Unfortunately, I lost contact with the person who gave me Chico. I’d love to be able to thank him for saving him for me. It’s a gift I can never repay.