My girl inside has been sending me reports about DW. First thing, she told the front desk people and the vet techs at the shelter to keep an eye on him because he was special, and they were like, “Everyone says that about every dog.”
They put him in a cage for the requisite five days to give the owner a chance to claim him and then spent more than a week doing tests of various sorts: heartworm, temperament, whatnot.
Another friend of mine who has been considering adopting a dog went in to see him earlier this week. He wasn’t done with all his tests at that point, so he couldn’t play, but she saw how cute and lovey he was. Her concern: “I’m not sure his head will fit through all the doors at my house.”
On Thursday, APS of Durham dubbed him Grayson—come on, he’s not an English lord, for Christ’s sake—but whatever, they posted him on the Adoptable Dogs page! Which I may or may not have visited every other hour.
Then last night he was gone. I looked and looked, but I couldn’t find him. At shelters, Friday is often kill day. I frantically emailed my friend: Where did he go?
She said she didn’t know but got on the horn this morning to find out.
What’s Making Me Happy: One of those vet techs found my little guy irresistible and pulled him from the shelter to foster him until he gets a fur-ever home.