Wanted
Signing the release form which allowed the frazzled, homeless-looking volunteer to snatch them up and put them in her car, along with three other homeless pets – three large mutts, as I recall -- was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Giving my lovebirds away still haunts me to this day. I made the call to PetSmart’s pet-adoption program with great hesitancy. Bitsy and Pinky had been with us for the last few years, and from the moment we brought each of them home, they were loved. They tore holes in our clothing and furniture, chirped incessantly when annoyed or frightened, spray-painted seed within a 15-foot radius, and bit us from time to time, numerous times drawing blood, but we loved them anyway. We took them on trips with us, including 17-hour drives to Portland and one drive that took us all the way up to Spokane. No one could accuse us of not loving or wanting our lovebirds.
The semi-vagrant-looking woman, who smelled and looked like she hadn’t showered in a week, looked at me disgustedly, “Why are you giving these poor birds away? Don’t you want them anymore?” Tears began to spill over my cheeks as I swallowed the lump in my throat and stammered something about having two small children and no time to take the birds out of their cage anymore or to provide them with the quality time they deserved. Explaining myself to this animal lover made me feel like I was giving my own kids up for adoption. I could see the answer wasn’t satisfying to her. She mumbled something impatiently about following her out to the car with the birds.
As I began hoisting the cage into her car, I tried to explain that they needed their water changed frequently and that they shouldn’t be separated when they were adopted out because they were bonded with each other, along with other vitally important pieces of information, but she wasn’t listening to me. She was gruffly shoving the other animals into her car. In a huff, she grabbed the cage from my hands and practically threw them in the front seat. “They’ll be fine,” she said, no doubt finally noticing my pallor and the crocodile tears streaming down my face. She then handed me her number, got into her little car with the five “unwanted” creatures, and quickly drove away. It was all I could do to keep my feet planted on the ground and not run after them.
I cried all the way home. Several times on the way, I would think of something else she should know, and I would dial her number and leave sad little messages on her voicemail. She never returned my call. Even now I tear up when I think of my sweet little lovebirds. I pray they are in good hands. They were very loved and wanted.
Giving my lovebirds away still haunts me to this day. I made the call to PetSmart’s pet-adoption program with great hesitancy. Bitsy and Pinky had been with us for the last few years, and from the moment we brought each of them home, they were loved. They tore holes in our clothing and furniture, chirped incessantly when annoyed or frightened, spray-painted seed within a 15-foot radius, and bit us from time to time, numerous times drawing blood, but we loved them anyway. We took them on trips with us, including 17-hour drives to Portland and one drive that took us all the way up to Spokane. No one could accuse us of not loving or wanting our lovebirds.
The semi-vagrant-looking woman, who smelled and looked like she hadn’t showered in a week, looked at me disgustedly, “Why are you giving these poor birds away? Don’t you want them anymore?” Tears began to spill over my cheeks as I swallowed the lump in my throat and stammered something about having two small children and no time to take the birds out of their cage anymore or to provide them with the quality time they deserved. Explaining myself to this animal lover made me feel like I was giving my own kids up for adoption. I could see the answer wasn’t satisfying to her. She mumbled something impatiently about following her out to the car with the birds.
As I began hoisting the cage into her car, I tried to explain that they needed their water changed frequently and that they shouldn’t be separated when they were adopted out because they were bonded with each other, along with other vitally important pieces of information, but she wasn’t listening to me. She was gruffly shoving the other animals into her car. In a huff, she grabbed the cage from my hands and practically threw them in the front seat. “They’ll be fine,” she said, no doubt finally noticing my pallor and the crocodile tears streaming down my face. She then handed me her number, got into her little car with the five “unwanted” creatures, and quickly drove away. It was all I could do to keep my feet planted on the ground and not run after them.
I cried all the way home. Several times on the way, I would think of something else she should know, and I would dial her number and leave sad little messages on her voicemail. She never returned my call. Even now I tear up when I think of my sweet little lovebirds. I pray they are in good hands. They were very loved and wanted.
Comments
How ironic that she, supposedly being the animal lover would treat them the way she did, make you feel guilty, and behave in a manner, less than professional!
And yet you still think about it, and have emotions about it... yet she labeled you...
:-/
Life is so unfair sometimes.
cj
Just think how much God loves us --he MADE us! Our love for those little creatures pales in comparison -- yet it gives us a little clue. He knows how many hairs you have on your head!
By the way, I believe Bitsy and Pinky are happy as can be. Those "eccentric" types take care of their animals better than they take care of themselves.
love you, honey,
mama