Mr. Bill holds a most special place in my heart. But the way in which he came into our lives is a bit involved, as it took us nearly 6 months to realize he had already adopted us. Here’s part one of the story about meeting Bill, getting involved in animal rescue and giving into the love of an amazing pooch.
You may recall, by the fall of 2011, we had lost a lot of hope that Cyrus was capable of being around other dogs—despite glowing daycare report cards to the contrary.
And for a lot of reasons that didn’t necessarily have anything to do with our giant, misbehaved bundle of joy, I had started to get really interested in animal rescue at this point, so I consulted the craziest dog lady I knew about how to get involved. My dear friend and fellow freelance writer, Jill, was an amazing resource.
We sat down over coffee one afternoon and she told me about all the incredible opportunities that were available in the world of rescue. She warned me of the joys and heartaches that came with the territory, but assured me it was all worth it. I was excited to get involved, but with the holidays quickly approaching, I sort of put it off and told myself I’d get involved after the New Year.
In early December, as Chris and I were taking a walk in the Westside neighborhood of Kansas City where we lived at the time, we saw a stray dog. He was just sort of minding his own business—barking at some dogs through a fence—but he didn’t have a collar or anything that would help me find his people. It was a chilly Sunday afternoon and I begged Chris to let me bring him home to figure out how to help, but he refused my pleas, arguing that Cyrus would lose his mind if we brought another dog into the apartment and that someone was probably looking for the dog. Not being the savvy rescuer I am now, I went home and didn’t think much of it for a while.
A few weeks later, the Westside Community Action Network Center, a neighborhood community resource, posted the stray dog’s picture on their Facebook page, asking if anyone recognized him. The only comments were people saying they had seen him around the neighborhood for a few weeks and they assumed he had been dumped there. So I commented that I’d be more than happy to pick him up in the morning and take him to get him scanned for a microchip on the off chance he had one.
The next morning I show up to get the stray dog, and was told he had escaped. Apparently they kept him outside in a fenced-in area behind the office overnight and he managed to crawl out under the fence somehow. So I set out to find this elusive pooch—dog food and leash in tow.
I drove around the Westside for at least two hours and even stopped strangers on the street to ask if they had seen him. Just when I was about to give up, I saw him trotting happily up the middle of the street, a few blocks from where he escaped. I stopped the car, opened the passenger door and waved some dog food around at him. Before I knew it, he had hopped right into the car, scarfed down the food and looked at me smiling and panting as if to ask, “Now where are we going?”
Stay tuned for Part 2 of Bill’s story: Adoption and Heartworms and Butt Worms, Oh My!