Brandon waited in the car while I walked our still spooked "Lindsay" into the pound. On our entrance into the compound (its big - really big,) I couldn't help but notice the billboard that stated how many animals they put down per year. The sign reminded me to "Think twice..." Um, CRAP! I kept dragging the scruffy dog towards the entrance into the building. When we entered the waiting room the stench that permeates any animal care facility hit us like a wall. I took a number and waited patiently to speak to someone about the dog. My plan had changed in the thirty seconds from leaving the car to entering the building: I no longer would leave the dog here unattended. If he was chipped I would see if they would give me the owner's information personally or I would leave my information so they owner could contact me to get the dog. If he wasn't chipped... well, if he wasn't chipped then I would just take him and figure something out.
After waiting for ten or so minutes I was directed to walk the dog outside and around the corner to a warehouse of sorts where someone would scan Lindsay for a microchip. When the scanner didn't pick up any chip I really started to get a nervous stomach. *What am I going to do with a dog?* *Brandon is going to kill me* *We're leaving in five days back home to Washington for his sister's wedding... WHAT WILL I DO????* I walked him back into the building to discuss his likelihood of being treated and adopted out. The lady point blank told me that with his skiddish demeanor and rough physical condition she doubted he would make it into the next week at the shelter. For a quick second I mistook her statement as meaning that he was so cute and lovable that he would be adopted right away. That is not at all what this lady was implying.
Without a second thought, I walked the dog back to the car. When I opened the door to get in, I gave Brandon one look that must have screamed "NOT ONE WORD!" because he just drove and got back on the freeway headed for home. He gave me about five minutes of silence before he inquired about my plan. I'm glad he gave me a bit to think... because my plan was certainly not very clear. I decided I needed to have him seen by a vet to determine if anything was seriously wrong for him as well as to get him on treatment for the ticks. In the meantime I would list him as lost on petfinder and look for rescue organizations to take him.
I had to find him a home.
.......Brandon will never let me keep him.......