The day I channeled Saint Angelina Jolie

Yesterday morning started early with us dropping off my lemon-of-a-car at the shop (for somewhere between $300 – $1,000 worth of work – gahhhhhhhh) and heading to Nola for the best soy lattes your American money can buy. This was particularly exciting for me because we don’t regularly pass this hip and trendy establishment on the way to work. 

If you’ve been to Nola before (and you have) you know that it has a little foyer type area. Right in front of me, sitting it’s cute little butt on the cold floor, was Riley, the terrier-something-or-other-type dog. After giving Riley a proper human to canine hug complete with creepy-long stranger linger, I walked right inside and bellowed like Lord Grantham himself, “Whose dog is this!?” I repeat, “Whose dog is this!?” I secretly hoped she belonged to no one and a kind stranger tied her up before walking away, leaving Riley there for me to discover, untie, and take home. In my heart, Riley belonged to me.

But she didn’t.

We talked to Riley’s person for a bit about how he and his wife and daughter found her at the pound (I scowl at Steve…Why weren’t WE at the pound!? Blasted uncontrollable hindsight!) and that Riley is sweet but not the “quickest on the uptake.”

I am happy Riley has a good home, I am. I just think my home is better. I will never ever forget Riley Dog. Part of me will always wish Steve had pulled up the car (as I pleaded him to do) and swiftly tossed her inside.

But as fate would have it, if he had done as I asked, we wouldn’t have had room for THIS:

Coming up Jefferson Street, right past the 7-11, I morphed into Angelina Jolie herself, rescuing this chubby stray beast from the dark and unforgiving roadside.

We will call him Thomas Jefferson.

T.J. jumped right into the car as if he had done it a thousand times before, and we knew it would be easier to just take him to the pound instead of calling Animal Control.

“But I see a collar!” Yes, you do. But no tags, sadly. We had no choice…

The last time I checked no one had picked up Thomas Jefferson. He had a microchip which makes that fact all the more unbearable for me. T.J. is a chubby little dude so someone was feeding him. He “walks like an old person,” according to the pound technician, and even rolled right onto his back for belly rubs when we found him. I can’t help but think there is a family looking for him. Truthfully, I can’t let myself think it could be anything else.

No matter what, we did the right thing. He could have been hit by a car or gone without food for too long (although he would been OK for a while…;).

I don’t know how to move on from the unintentional sad tone those last few paragraphs took but I guess the whole thing bothered me more than I thought.

I will tell you this: meeting pound-pup Riley, and then rescuing Thomas Jefferson made me so thankful that we found our Washburne (“Wash”) at the pound. It sounds silly but he seems so grateful sometimes. Thankful for his home and our love, and three quarters of our queen size bed. I can’t believe we were so close to not being “his people.” (I guess I should share that story eventually…)

And I’m not mad at you if you bought your dog from a breeder. Seriously. My two other favorite dogs on the planet are breeder dogs.

But let me tell you – there are a lot – A LOT of sweet and wonderful dogs who need good homes. Your homes. And for every dog that people buy from a breeder, a pound-pup, scared and alone in his cage, suffers, or even dies because of it.

I know families often want a certain size or temperament in a dog – and that’s smart planning. Because of poor planning, the pound is never short of pure bred dogs that just “didn’t work” with a family. I won’t argue with the certainty that comes with purchasing a pure-bred dog when it comes to these characteristics.

However, I promise that with time and patience, you can rescue the dog or puppy (yes, puppy),  of your dreams.

Email me: gallowaybrit at gmail dot com and I won’t stop until you find the dog you are looking for. I mean it. Scout’s honor.

In the meantime, this is what Washburne does when we try to change the bed sheets.

Little shit.

I love you Riley. I love you Thomas Jefferson.

Washburne – you smelled really really weird this morning. And I love you anyway.

Visit Frederick County Animal Control for more information on local pets up for adoption.



One thought on “The day I channeled Saint Angelina Jolie

  1. I got tearry-eyed, empowered, then laughed out loud. You have the biggest heart and I love being to read you thought, feelings and experiences.

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