Until we meet again.

Today broke my heart.

We lost Fiona today.

Fiona was a happy girl who had a rough start. She was overbred and was in the final stages of heartworm disease. She was lucky enough to go to foster care, and she had a great morning, found a sunny spot to lie down in, and fell asleep. She didn't wake up.

I had the joy of watching her play and play and play when she was at the shelter, and she particularly liked the big goat ball in the yard, and got her own Jolly Ball to take home. Her foster mom said she would carry it around the house because she loved it so much. She was definitely loved.

We lost Prince a few weeks ago, but it still stings. He was dumped at the shelter, was too scared for the adoption floor, and didn't make it out to foster or rescue. He was a good boy, but I knew he wouldn't make it out. I think we all knew, deep down. But we tried.

This is my buddy. He has a shelter name, but he didn't have it long enough to learn it. He started out without a name, in the back, because he came in under circumstances that kept him in shelter custody and away from public viewing. He was slated to go to the adoption floor after his hold was over, and I would talk to him when I walked by and tell him how handsome he was while he licked my hand through the bars. He reminded me of my boy.

He went to the adoption floor, but after multiple people reported that he was mouthy and hard to handle, he was removed. He's 75 lbs, and when he stands up, he's as tall as me. I found him delightful, and took him out by myself with confidence. I completely trusted him, even if I knew where all his teeth were because he put both of my hands completely in his mouth. We were getting to know each other.

That's not what got him killed, though. I could've handled a hard-headed dog, a big dog, a big hard-headed dog with poor manners. What got him killed is that he was never socialized as a puppy, and his owner never came for him. He couldn't be trusted around other animals. He was too big to risk having around other dogs; there was a risk of him redirecting and injuring someone. All of our experienced dog fosters already have dogs. The same goes for rescues. No one could take him.

I really thought he was going to make it out. From the moment I saw him, I knew he was a good dog. I'm usually pretty good at spotting dogs that won't make it. We all know the type: some combination of pit bull, big dog, unaltered, HW+, unsocialized. You work in this field long enough and you just know. Not that they're bad, but they just won't make it in a shelter environment. Even though you see the potential and you know what they need. They're not impossible, just not realistic.

The reality is, my buddy is getting put down in the morning. I spent my last moments at work with him, telling him what a good boy he is, and I drove away knowing that he won't be there when I go back tomorrow. I said "goodbye" and he said "see you next time."