Look, this is shitty enough, but it's like this: The Pepper Dog needed a new home. In North Florida, preferably, but that was just my broken heart wanting to keep her nearby. So, my son insisted that he and his bride give her a home in Charleston.
My new job is going to pretty much shut out any sort of life beyond survival, and the long hours away while she waited for me was killing me. And unfair to her.
Hell, it took her almost a year to warm up to me after she was adopted, so it will likely be a daunting task for a new master to win her affections. I bet yummy snacks will help. Still, she's fiercely loyal to me-- a loyalty won through fun places to visit and special attentions-- and she deserves better structure than my job will allow. Retail schedules are a nightmare of days, nights, no two days off in a row, and long, long hours.
She's the sort of dog that needs a job: herding cats, squirrels, kids or cattle or whatever. She won't chase a ball or a stick, she doesn't see a need to expend the energy on inanimate objects. She's all about people, socializing, belly rubs and naps. When she's not given an assigned task, she just patiently naps and waits. No barking, yapping or whining, she just deals the guilt out passively with reproachful looks when you return.
She's the best dog in the whole, wide world, and it's killing for to let someone else provide her with everything the Best Dog in the World deserves . . . because I no longer can. I'd like to think I could at a later date. . .
But, my son came yesterday to take her to his newly acquired home in Charleston. She's having a new adventure with active young folks and, hey, a CHEF for a master is every dog's dream, right? I hope she's dreaming of soup bones, even now.
I sure do miss her, already.