On Saturday, October 31st, (Halloween) Dooley was taken to Texas to be adopted. I didn't pre-post or discuss this ahead of time, as I didn't want to vacillate and question myself in self torment. Now, that I'm home, slept for a few hours after a long road trip, am drinking coffee while Topaz and Frankie are outside enjoying the beautiful weather and sunshine, I'm actually tormented anyway.

After 2 1/2 months of fostering Dooley, awaiting placement, getting excited because a space became available, then let down due to an emergency, I rode the roller coaster of emotional ups and downs for a long time trying not to get attached but being unable to resist.

Now, the house and yard are quiet, deafening quiet, and my ears are ringing to the memory of his
Corgi-roo-roo-rooooo, his grunts, growns, and moans, the playful chases around the house in circles until all three were so tuckered out they just plopped on the floor and went to sleep.

I've spent the last few hours going through all the emails and emergency postings when he first showed up on the "radar" needing a home. I can't bring myself to delete them, as they are a reminder of how hard everyone here worked to help me get him out of the situation he was in. They are also a reminder of how determined I was to save his life.

Dooley was transformed from this --

-- scared and not knowing where he was, why he was there, and what would happen to him -- to this --

-- happy and confident in just the first 24 hours of being in my home with buddies to play with, food, water, warm bed, and all the lovies he could ever want.

A lot of people said I would find the right thing to do for Dooley, but what about the right thing for me? I know, I'm being selfish again. But I just went into the office and saw his blankie, still with his body shape embedded in the fluffs, and I stopped in my tracks and almost cried.

I had a lot of time to think on the way home, and became angry at how his owners didn't look for him in the shelter, and how after I was finally able to get him to safety, I went through the hard job of assessing him. The more I observed in him, the more I fell in love with him, and became resentful of him being such a great dog -- I was unable to control my favoritism towards him against Topaz and Frankie and hated myself for loving him so much -- a lot of irony there!.

Even upon transfer from my car to the other car, Dooley made me proud! He didn't whine, whimper, or stand at the window clawing for me. I told him he was going to a new home with both a mommy and a daddy that could devote all their time and attention to him, instead of one mommy who had to divide herself between deadlines at work and then 3 little ones at home, someplace where he would be King Kahuna. He understood. He simply lay down on the pillow in the passenger seat and waited to go. He's such a great dog!

But I'm still angry -- angry because after my heart was/is invested -- I kept a diary of Dooley's attributes and printed out a full 2 pages of bio for the adoption with only two negatives listed -- an investment of time and love that so many others missed out on for whatever reason. Now after I've done the documenting, everyone wants him, but no one really wanted to "try and see" for theirselves, they let me make their decision easy for them, and I'm angry.

I'm angry for the timing not being right for me to be able to keep him and money tight in my bank account.

Of the 3 rescues, Dooley, Frankie, and Topaz, Dooley was definitely the most adoptable, and I'm angry.

I'm angry. Am I angry for the right reasons? Or am I having a spell of separation anxiety?