Adopting Della

By the end of the first weekend of Della's and my life together, it had become a mini-mantra that I used to remind myself I wanted a dog. I love my dog. I love my dog. I love my dog. And then I begged my sister to come over and watch Della so I could get out of the house sans dog. I needed to get away from my dog.


I do love my dog. The second I saw her file on the Oregon Humane Society's website, I knew. I knew she was my dog.


Della, waiting for me outside
my local coffeeshop

Della, with her sweet black face and sad eyes, caught my attention. I loved her black and white coloring and she was the right size(my landlord imposed a weight restriction). My sister and I traveled out by bus to the shelter on a Wednesday to meet her. At first, we couldn't find her in the kennels and I felt my heart sink. She was my dog; no one else was allowed to have her. After enlisting the help of a volunteer, we were able to locate Della and spend some time with her in the visiting room. Della seemed so quiet and lady-like. She let us pet her but she was very quiet and reserved, as if she didn't believe her life could change from being a stray shelter dog.



We arranged for each of us to individually place a 24 hour hold on her. I went home that night and sent emails to anyone I could think of who might be willing to drive me over on Friday to pick her up. A friend graciously agreed to help pick her up with me. Arriving at the shelter, I was told, by more than one of the shelter employees that they were so glad I was adopting Della. Apparently, another woman was interested in Della but she had a cat and the shelter had tried to dissuade her from adopting a dog that would not do well around cats. When she returned to try and adopt Della, she threw a fit when she found out Della was reserved. No one wanted her to get Della, especially after the fit-throwing.

Some paperwork, a quick stop at the pet store and Taco Time for dinner, and we were home. That first night, Della was an angel. The next day was great; we went for long walks, I pet her a lot and snuggled with her. Sunday morning, I had to go to church. I wasn't sure if she was house-trained or not so I put her in the downstairs bathroom with a bowl of water and her bed. When I came home and opened the door to let her out, I found the door trim in pieces on the floor where Della had launched herself at the door, trying to get out.

 

By Monday morning, I was wondering what I had gotten myself into. Della had slipped out of her collar a couple of times on our walks, she had an accident inside and she managed to get herself trapped in the upstair bathroom, where she proceeded to pull the door trim off that door as well. If I looked at her cross-eyed, she would flop to the floor in a submissive gesture. I think I cried a few times that weekend and I finally begged my sister to come over, just so I could get out of the house, by myself.

I had a few thoughts that weekend, of returning her but I couldn't bear to send her back to the shelter and I had to believe we would be fine once we got comfortable with each other.  And I didn't want to admit I couldn't handle owning a dog, even if I did have thoughts of "I don't think I can deal with this for another 10 years."

Della and I have been together now for 3 years.  At 8 years old, she doesn't show much signs of slowing down and now when I think about how many years we have left together, it's more of "we only have this many years left together" instead of "how will I survive" feeling.  I don't regret adopting her, even when Della does something she shouldn't... which is often.