A Letter To My One Day Rescue

Dear Rudy,

There were 2 of you. Just running in and out of traffic during rush hour on a busy thoroughfare. Almost identical, gorgeous little beasts. I remember how tired I was, after a swim and a session with the weights in the gym, not to mention the groceries.

But something about you spoke to my heart. Such beautiful beasts. I'm guessing you might have been a Shepard/Husky mix, judging from your looks. You were both thick, with white, black and grey fur. It seemed you'd come from somewhere. You looked decently fed.

We turned back, pulled over and almost the second my husband got out, you both came running, into the van, tongues out, tails wagging, like we were long lost pals. Such friendly, sweet girls. You were out there a long time. You were tired and hot and thirsty. No doubt, it was well over 30 degrees.

We brought you home to our apartment. I'm sorry your sister took off and I couldn't contain her. You're both 65 pounds and I'm a tiny woman. I tried, we each took one of you. But I'm a small woman and a big dog, with only a ragged collar to hold onto, is no match for me.

I tried to find her. I drove all over town, whistling out my window. I figured she'd hear that and come back to the van. Then, I figured she'd come back to the yard, to find you. She didn't.

But you stayed. You came to me, licked my face and followed my hubby into the apartment. You didn't like the elevator, you refused to go in. So hubby had to walk you up the 4 flights of stairs. He wasn't all that happy about it, but he did it for you. Between you and I, he needed the exercise.

You were so thirsty. I swear you drank a gallon of water. After all that running in the summer heat, who could blame you? But you had nothing to eat.

I ran out and bought you food, and a nice leash, so you could go pee. I wanted to keep you safe, with me, until your mommy and daddy came. But really, I wanted to be your mommy. I secretly hoped no one would respond to my ad while I did the right thing.

I named you Rudy. I know it's a boy's name, but it worked for T.V. in the 80's, it'd work for you too. You seemed to like it. You came when I called you by it. It was my father's name. He was my greatest protector, gentle, tall and strong and loyal. I felt you were like that too. I had plans to take you swimming the next day. I thought you would like that.

You liked the food I bought. I made sure to buy the good stuff. And you listened to me so well when you went pee. It took a few minutes, but when you realized I was the boss, you settled in really well. You're such a smart girl.

You refused to get in the elevator for me too, but that's just as well, I need more exercise, stairs it is. You took the stairs like a champ. Heck, you even begged for more. We ran around the building, up and down the stairs, you couldn't get enough.

I went online and posted your picture. I knew you had a home, even though I really wanted you to stay. You jumped up on the couch with me, and I brushed you until you fell asleep. I think I counted 7 brushfuls of hair, at least. Then I stopped counting. You sure love to be brushed.

I had already fallen in love with you. You were my precious girl, but you really weren't. Your mommy sent me a message and said bad people had opened your gate, yet again, and let you and your sister out. She asked about your sister. I didn't have good news. She seemed annoyed about that.

She came to get you and my heart broke into a million pieces. But I'm sure she felt the same when she realized you were gone.

She unclicked the leash I bought you, took you by the collar and pulled you toward her car. I didn't let you see me cry. You hesitated. You didn't seem to want to leave.

I won't lie, I can understand why. She didn't seem like a very nice lady. She was rude and she handled you roughly. I don't believe her about the gate. She didn't seem all that pleased to have you back. She snarled, "yeah, thanks," at me, in that sarcastic kind of way humans do when they're inconvenienced. I wanted more than anything to snatch you back, to tell her to go away. But that's just not how things work in the "people world". You belonged to her and not me, and that's how the law is.

I really shouldn't judge her so harshly, your mommy. Maybe she had a bad day. Maybe you and your sister getting out was the 17th crappy thing that happened in a generally crappy day. That happens to humans sometimes.

I was happy that you seemed to perk up when you saw the kids in the car. You wagged your bushy tail, eager to reconnect with them. I think they really are "your people," not the cranky lady.

I found out later that you and your sister are known runners. The Humane Society said so themselves. Somehow, you escape your gate and explore the city far and wide. I don't know why you do that, but it's not a very safe thing to do.

Sweet Rudy, you're home now, with your mommy and daddy and the kids, but you'll always have a home with me too, in my heart. I was your mommy for a short time, a few hours, but you made a huge impression on my heart. And if you run again, I hope it's to me. I'll keep the food and the leash, just in case.

Love,

Your other mommy.