Thelma Update 3: Saying Goodbye

Of course it has to rain on the morning Thelma’s leaving the Farnival. It’s Sunday, May 25th, and Donna and I are taking the big galoot to her new family’s home sometime this afternoon. If I remember correctly, it was pouring when Bentley left too. Is this a thing?

Thirty minutes ago, as the sun started to lighten behind a layer of gray clouds, I watched through my office window as Thelma, Meadow, and Silvio raced laps around the backyard a.k.a the mosh pit, chasing each other, kicking up red clumps of dirt in a steady downpour.

For whatever reason, one or the other (mostly Meadow) would suddenly stop and sprint towards the center of the now muddy pit. The others shortly followed, and then all three would start smacking down, gleefully biting, lunging, and chewing on each other. Thunder boomed distantly but none of the dogs seemed to care, or maybe it stoked their excitement, egging on their games. On most days, I would have marched down the stairs and marshaled them into the basement for their morning wrestling match. But this morning, I couldn’t do it.

Of course, right now, I’m paying the consequences because three fifty-plus pound wet dogs are surrounding my desk, stinking up the whole house. The smell was so bad before I had toweled them off that Miss Annie started yipping, probably telling those stinky mutts to get out of her space.

I could give them baths, but my intuition tells me in another twenty minutes they’ll be at it again. Besides, I want to wait so that Thelma will be clean when I take her home.

If you just started reading this blog, Thelma, a drooling black lab mutt with a square face and squat body, had bulldozed her way through our fence and moved into the basement, without any invitation whatsoever. It took me a few weeks to appreciate her, because I’m not used to the crude manners of a six-month-old labrador, but now I’m in love with her.

I’d like to say that giving these dogs to their new families gets easier, but it doesn’t. The simple fact is the longer they stay, the harder it gets; and Thelma’s been here almost two months.

Saying goodbye is always rough, and for me, the countdown starts the night before. I always make it a special occasion, and last night I invited Thelma to sleep in the bed. I’m happy to report she cuddled like a champ, nestling right up next to me and snoring like an old lady all night long.

Leaving her will be somewhat easier because her new family is cool as hell, but in all honestly, no matter how much I rationalize it, today isn’t going to be easy.