(no subject)
McCoy went to his new home today.
We drove to the halfway point between here and Akron; I rolled out of bed at six (keep in mind, I'm battling a flu) and spent 3 and a half hours in my car, coughing and mostly laying on my side in the passenger's seat with the big lug's head on my shoulder.
It was... bittersweet. I held it together until I handed Troy the leash and McCoy's green squeaky spider and he climbed into the backseat of their car, which was set up for their Newf- the seats were folded down and there was a rug there instead, with a couple toys, and McCoy hopped right in to sniff around. Good, I thought, and my mom and I kissed and hugged him and I told him to promise to be good for them (he was in love the moment we got out of the car and he kept hamming it up, though he decided to make a fool of himself by jumping like a big beast.)
And then Troy shut the door and he started WAILING. Now granted, he does that for a lot of reasons. He does it when he's mad. He does it when he wants to get in someplace and the door is closed, and he does it when he's thirsty or sometimes he just doesn't want to walk up the stairs, so he sits at the bottom and screams bloody murder. I burst into tears like a big baby, cried for the first hour and a half of our drive home, and then the girls made me feel better when I got back here. <3 my girls.
Though I'll miss him, I know he's better off with them- he's going to be living with another Newfie so he'll have another big lug to play with, and they make frequent trips to a national park near their home, so he'll get lots of time to go splash around in the creek and play. Here... Boo's a snot and Schatzi tries to play, but let's be fair: a 9 year old, 60lb dog with brain damage isn't the best playmate for a 130lb 10 month old puppy.
In better news, I'll see Scotti either this week or the week after, so that's good.
Baby steps.
We drove to the halfway point between here and Akron; I rolled out of bed at six (keep in mind, I'm battling a flu) and spent 3 and a half hours in my car, coughing and mostly laying on my side in the passenger's seat with the big lug's head on my shoulder.
It was... bittersweet. I held it together until I handed Troy the leash and McCoy's green squeaky spider and he climbed into the backseat of their car, which was set up for their Newf- the seats were folded down and there was a rug there instead, with a couple toys, and McCoy hopped right in to sniff around. Good, I thought, and my mom and I kissed and hugged him and I told him to promise to be good for them (he was in love the moment we got out of the car and he kept hamming it up, though he decided to make a fool of himself by jumping like a big beast.)
And then Troy shut the door and he started WAILING. Now granted, he does that for a lot of reasons. He does it when he's mad. He does it when he wants to get in someplace and the door is closed, and he does it when he's thirsty or sometimes he just doesn't want to walk up the stairs, so he sits at the bottom and screams bloody murder. I burst into tears like a big baby, cried for the first hour and a half of our drive home, and then the girls made me feel better when I got back here. <3 my girls.
Though I'll miss him, I know he's better off with them- he's going to be living with another Newfie so he'll have another big lug to play with, and they make frequent trips to a national park near their home, so he'll get lots of time to go splash around in the creek and play. Here... Boo's a snot and Schatzi tries to play, but let's be fair: a 9 year old, 60lb dog with brain damage isn't the best playmate for a 130lb 10 month old puppy.
In better news, I'll see Scotti either this week or the week after, so that's good.
Baby steps.