[Hollee]

This may be old, and if everyone has already seen it, sorry! It was just too sweet of a story not to post. It's about a lab... but for this site's purposes lets pretend it was a yorkie

Whomever Gets My Dog

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in
his pen.The shelter was clean, and the people really friendly.

I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small
college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass
them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life
here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to.

And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter
said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people
who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever
that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and
his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which
were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his
previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled
for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust
to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go
anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my
other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old
stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty
clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and
"stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it.
He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in
my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go
back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh
and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked
boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell.

The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and
when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my
unpacked stuff.

I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also
mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also
found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's
direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen
since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that??
Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my
direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented
sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter
phone number.

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten
about that, too.

"Okay,Reggie, " I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any
advice.".... .....

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the
shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner.

I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got
back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the
shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys
before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's
like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I
have to go to try to make it right.