Last night I found out that my application to adopt a dog from the Mini Aussie Rescue Shelter (MARS) in Oregon was denied. Believe me, I was as shocked as you are (assuming that your jaw has just hit the floor, that is.)
I emailed in my application on Friday and when I hadn’t heard anything back by Monday afternoon I re-sent it to the local Oregon address (MARS is a national organisation). When I hadn’t heard anything back by Wednesday, I emailed again to see if my application had been received at all. I got an immediate response directing me to the info on Petfinder.com about incomplete applications, which basically says that if there’s anything missing, MARS won’t reply to tell you because they’re just too busy. Fine. So I re-read my app and realised that I hadn’t included a letter from my landlord to say I was allowed keep a dog in my apartment (when we were choosing a place to live months ago we requested that our community and building were dog friendly so I knew it wasn’t a problem). I had included the phone number but that obviously wouldn’t suffice. So I headed over to the leasing office and asked lovely Lissa to send me through the relevant document, which I forwarded on to MARS straight away. The response I received was that the letter wasn’t ideal, but it would do. But then the MARS rep declared that there were so many other things wrong with my application that she didn’t have time to go through them with me as she is a volunteer and is plenty busy with her own paying job, thank you very much.
Heartbroken doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. I’m not being big-headed, but I thought that my application was pretty damn good. I even said that I would consider taking a partially blind or deaf dog. As a responsible, mature, educated adult, who sits at home alone all day, surely I could be trusted taking care of a dog? I owned a pony when I was 11 and managed not to kill her. Even homeless people are allowed to have dogs, I wanted to roar back in block caps.
And then, not surprisingly, the rage came. I wanted to find that girl and bawl in her face. I wanted to tell her how I read my new dog training book from cover to cover on the beach on St Stephen’s Day. I wanted her to know how many hours I’ve spent researching the best dog bowls (stainless steel because they’re less likely to harbour germs) and the most nutritious dog food ( a brand called Blue Buffalo. Expensive, but worth it because of the meat content). And still I wasn’t good enough to take care of a dog that someone else had dumped? Bitch, please.
Looking on the bright side: there’s obviously no shortage of people trying to adopt dogs from MARS, which is a good thing. But it isn’t providing much comfort this morning. There are other shelters here I can apply to, but to be honest, I’m a bit scared in case I get rejected again. Of course, I could just go online and buy a puppy right now. Breeders don’t make you fill out an application, they don’t give a shit who you are or what you do. But my conscience would give me a terrible time.
Maybe I’ll just have a baby. Much less paperwork to do. Weird, that.