The stray

I became nearly unraveled when a stray dog showed up at our house yesterday. Here's the story:

I got home from work on a nice afternoon. Dave was home and we decided to take our dogs to the park for a little frisbee action. Loki's been a good frisbee dog for a while now, but Ullr is also starting to develop some mad skills. Anyway, it was a nice walk, cut only a bit short by the rain. As we approached our house, I could see a dog near our driveway. I got a bit nervous, because Loki sometimes takes issue with strange dogs, and there was nobody attached the this one. The strange dog ran as we got closer, but loitered just across the street, where he sat and looked at us, hopefully.

I'm a sucker for dogs, and apparently a magnet for lost ones, too. Just a couple months ago, a little Jack Russell showed up, on my porch, wearing a little rain jacket, but shivering and peering into our warm house. Turns out he had escaped from his owner and was looking for shelter. I took him in, called the vet on his tag, and he was reunited with his owner the next day. He was little, easily contained, and not a threat to my dogs.

This new dog, on the other hand, was a big Rottweiler/Australian Sheppard Mix. I took my dogs inside, and Dave approached the vagabond mutt, who sat eagerly for him, wagged his tail, and let Dave read his tags. Phone number on the tag led us to a very rude man who hung up on Dave twice. Apparently not the owner- or maybe it was her jaded ex-boyfriend. The vet was closed. And, Portland has no after-hours animal control services. It was Wednesday at about 7pm. The emergency animal control dispatch gave me this advice, "Hang onto him until morning when the shelters open, or let him go." She advised me to let the dog go...?!

So, with the dog in our fenced front yard, and my dogs occasionally barking through the front door at him, my dear husband went about making dinner, as I sat at the table and came nearly unglued. For some reason, I just did not want to deal with this. I knew, as Dave reminded me, that we would feel good for doing the right thing and sheltering the dog, but I was SOOO annoyed. I kept thinking how my own dogs were being driven crazy by the dog outside. I watched the dog do the little "post-potty dance" which tore up our yard, and I thought about how the yard would look to people coming to visit next week. I thought about him staying outside all night, probably cold and lost and worried. But we had nowhere to put him inside. I thought about how I would have to wake up early in the morning to sort out the dogs before work. I thought about all the phone calls I'd have to make and what I would do if I couldn't find the owner. Then I started feeling dispicable thinking, "I'm clearly not a good person, because I am totally resenting doing the right thing right now." That spiraled into, "I am not going to be a good mother because I don't even have the patience and flexibility to deal with a stray dog."

Poor Dave tried to console me, but I wouldn't have it. I thought about going to bed, but knew I had to eat something. Dave cooked an amazing meal of stuffed chicken breasts, artichokes and spinach salad. I didn't help at all b/c I was so consumed with irritation at this dog situation. I ate in silence. I just felt that as a pregnant woman, I should not have to deal with this added annoyance.

There is some history, here. It may sound unrelated at first, but it all fits together. I have decided not to go back to my job next year. I just couldn't make sense of it financially- with my sorry alternative school salary, I figured that more than half of my paycheck would end up going to daycare. Plus, I couldn't foresee spending my days with middle-school punks and my nights with a newborn. I don't have that much patience in my body- and I don't want my performance as a mother to suffer b/c I have to give so much energy to the students. So I let my boss know I would not be returning as the science teacher next year. It is bittersweet in many ways, but ultimately a relief to my mind.

Anyway, I came home on the night of the stray dog a bit irritable. The students have spring fever, and all of the staff is feeling the strain of their frustrating behaviors and indifference to school

Anyway, as Dave hugged me hello and asked me how my day was, I said, "It was okay," but then proceeded to tell him this. "You know, in my everyday life, I probably spend about 1% of my time feeling exasperated." I'm talking about how you feel when you have car trouble, or when you're stuck in traffic, or when somebody changes plans at the last minute and screws up your whole day. Or when something comes up that throws a monkey wrench into your plans for a quiet, relaxed evening. "But," I continued, "at work, I bet I'm exasperated over 50% of the time." High-risk middle school students = exasperation. "I won't miss that."

Ironically, stray dog came along a couple hours later and I couldn't help but re-visit my earlier conversation.

We did not, as advised, "let the dog go." The dog stayed on our porch. We fed him dinner. I could hear him whimpering occasionally. I softened to him and laid out some old towels for a bed. Our plan was to call animal control in the morning, but as I lay in bed and heard him barking at some passersby, I couldn't imagine impounding him. I decided I would post an ad on craigslist and call the vet and do everything I could before surrendering him. And in the morning, as I went out to feed him, he was so damn cute that I started to think,"Maybe 3 dogs wouldn't be too many." But of course, a 3rd dog is the last thing we need with a baby around the corner. In the end, the story has a happy ending. The dog's owner was out of town and the roommate had left the back gate open and the dog escaped. The roomie had searched all night for him, and placed an ad on craigslist, which I found at about the same time the owner called me to let me know the vet had gotten my message and contacted her. So, the dog was reunited with the careless roommate, and everyone was grateful and I got to feel good about myself and I don't have a third big, hairy dog.

I still don't know why I got so bent-up about it, but I think I have some ideas. One, I'm pregnant and hormonal and I do really cherish my relaxing evenings with Dave. Two, I get enough stress and unpredictability at work. And three, a coworker helped me to see how much of a metaphor the stray dog is for our students. I was telling him about the dog incident, and about how frustrating it was for me, but how it had all worked out. He replied, "Well, in a way, a stray dog is really a metaphor for our kids. They're lost. They're needy. They don't know where they are or where they're going. They are total victims of their circumstances."

I added, "They are helpless and they are the way they are due to someone else's irresponsibility. They don't know any better. They are dirty and hungry and starved for attention. They can be really sweet but they can also be huge pains in the ass."

And the worst part is, they have no guarantee of a happy ending.

So, I guess I learned a few things from this experience. I learned that just because I got a bit unhinged doesn't mean that I'm a bad person. Ultimately, I did the right thing and I feel good about it. I became unhinged because I knew I had to do the right thing, even though I really wanted my evening to be calm and uneventful. I learned that my job (as a teacher of high-needs adolescents) has been really difficult these past few years, and that I take it hard because I am emotionally invested in these kids' lives. If my students are stray dogs, most of them are not on their way to a happy ending. Most of them have been mistreated and neglected and victims of other people's carelessness. Most of them will continue to wander without getting all of their needs met. But a few of them might get turned in the right direction, and they might just find their way. Maybe even a little bit because of my influence. Finally, I realized that doing the right thing as a mother will not always be the easy, fun way, but I am taking on this responsibility with the utmost seriousness and intention. Just like with my dogs, I have a responsibility to care for my child and lead her so that she feels secure, loved, and happy. I don't ever want my baby to feel like a stray.