Remember that one time I rescued a dog from the animal shelter and felt all good about myself?
I was like "April, you're an upstanding citizen in your community and an all around great human being."
And then shit got real.
Literally, the shit.
When we took Bella to her first check up a few days after she had her stitches out we were advised to have her checked for parasites and worms, you know, since we had no idea where she had come from. I patiently waited for the test results and I'm sure you can correctly guess how that phone conversation went. We were told she had been exposed to giardia and needed 5 days of medication. I was freaking out, and my husband thought maybe a parasite could crawl in his ear.
Great.

I was the lucky lady who had the job of giving Bella her white chalky awful medicine. She hated it, I hated it, my bank account hated it.
Why that medicine had to be liquid I'll never know. It spilled everywhere and made a huge mess of my kitchen floor.
During my time cleaning I had a lot of time to contemplate my relationship with this dog.
I made up this story in my head that she ran with the wrong crowd before she ended up in the shelter. Maybe she was in a gang, hopefully she didn't have to be jumped in.
I've considered the past few weeks detox for Bella. Putting the past behind her and giving her loving memories with our family. We have been training her to behave, shocked her system with meds and basically changed her entire life.
I've had many moments over the past few weeks where I've thought
"maybe I made a mistake."
Isn't it normal to second guess a decision that causes you so much grief?
But then I'll look over and see her cuddling with Dylan or playing with her toys and remember why I wanted to rescue a dog in the first place.
I wanted to help.
I wanted to set a good example for my boys.
And we all deserve to be loved.
Dogs are like people, they have baggage and issues that need to be work through.
and really, shit happens.