Do you remember, Cooper, the Chihuahua mix who bit me without warning and then decided I was his arch-enemy? Cooper was adopted by a childless couple with lots of Chihuahua experience, and all was rosy at first. Well, it was rosy except when he bit the person cleaning their house.
This afternoon we took Mickey to the shelter so the vet could check him out and clear him for adoption. I overheard someone in the hallway talking about Cooper's place in the vet schedule. "Oh, no," I said, "does that mean Cooper's adoption didn't work out?" "Yep," said the foster coordinator grimly.
I suspect there is a story behind that grim "yep," but things were chaotic enough that I didn't ask her for details.
This shelter is really dedicated to keeping animals alive, to rehabilitating difficult pets and offering second chances to animals with behavior problems. But Cooper is going to be tough to rehabilitate, it seems to me. And there's a line somewhere, right? How many humans can a dog bite before he runs out of second chances?
I don't make those decisions. But I assure you I did not volunteer to foster Cooper this time around.
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