When the Right Reasons for Not Adopting a Dog May Not Be the Right Reasons.

Mia was a remarkable dog.

I say that and she wasn’t even my dog. My daughter Christine owned her. Christine came across Mia one evening when she was in college and was driving to her part time job. At that time Christine didn’t know the dark shape that crossed the highway in front of her car was Mia, All she knew is that it was a dog and Christine swerved to miss hitting it with her car.

The dog collapsed on the shoulder of the road. Christine’s heart thumped. She thought she had hit the dog with her car. Christine got out of her car and looked. The dog was lying silently on the roadside. It was emaciated and filthy. The animal didn’t stir even when Christine gently  picked it up and put it in the back seat of her car.

Instead of going to work that night Christine took the dog to an emergency veterinarian practice. The vet examined the dog and could find no broken bones. The dog had collapsed from exhaustion and malnutrition The vet was kind enough not to charge Christine and offered to house the dog overnight and provide her medication and a bath.

The next morning Christine returned. The veterinarian asked if Christine was going to take the dog. Christine explained she was a student at the university and lived in a small second floor off campus apartment; certainly not the place for a dog. The vet told Christine she should take the dog to a local animal shelter, which she did.

Unfortunately the shelter was not a no kill shelter

and the dog had only two weeks before she would be put down. Christine left the dog there hoping that someone would adopt it. She called us asking us if she should adopt the dog. We told her no, giving her all the right reasons; a small cramped apartment is no place for a dog, especially when you are away most of the day at classes and working, a dog is a commitment, someone will likely adopt the dog, etc, etc.

During the next two weeks Christine called the animal shelter to see if the dog had been claimed or adopted. Each time she called the answer was the same. No. Finally fourteen days had passed and it was time to put the dog down. Despite our advice Christine went to the shelter and adopted the dog.

Christine named the dog Mia. Mia was a cross between a Labrador and a border collie. Her coat was black and she had a white diamond on her chest, and her hair was long like that of a border collie. She was young, maybe not even a year old. There was no telling how long Mia had been running wild. She and Christine bonded instantly.

Despite her schedule Christine made sure Mia was exercised regularly, and whenever possible took Mia with her. Then summer came. Christine was going to Europe to study and Mia came to our house. She had the kind of engaging personality that made you immediately like her. She soon amazed us with her intelligence (the Border collie side of her family) and her good temperament (the lab side).

Time went by. Christine married, and a few years later had a baby girl. She was worried when she brought her newborn daughter home and introduced her to Mia. The look that Mia gave Christine could only be interpreted as “It’s about time you brought one of these home for me to care for.” Mia was always our granddaughter’s vigilant and kind companion. When our granddaughter was a toddler and walked around the house with a cookie in her hand, Mia would follow her but would never snatch the treasured morsel from her hand.

The two were inseparable until our grand daughter was six. Then, Mia fell ill My daughter was told by the Vet he could do nothing more. To try to extend Mia’s life would only be postponing the inevitable and it would be best that Mia didn’t suffer anymore.

Christine called her mom and me. She asked me if I could be with her when the vet put Mia down, and if my wife could watch Zoe at the park.

I remember that last day.

I had arrived at the vet’s office ahead of Christine. I looked out the window and Mia and Christine were crossing the street. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Mia’s head was up; she was smiling and wagging her tail. Strangers stopped and petted her.

Christine explained that meds gave the illusion all was well. She had been able to spend one last day with Mia, to go to the park and feed her a MacDonald’s hamburger. And enjoy the bond that only a loving dog owner and a dog can know.

Now it was time. I looked at Mia and turned to my daughter. It’s time I said and we went into the room where the technician and the vet were waiting for Mia. The room was white and sterile. There were no chairs. We sat on the floor Mia’s head was on Christine’s lap. The medication did its work and Mia was no more.

My daughter cried.I cried.

Tears ran down our faces. “Mia was lucky you found her,” I said.

“No dad,” she responded. “I am lucky I found Mia. She has been with me through good times, through not so good times. Always by my side, she always made me smile.”

While I still theoretically believe it is a good idea that a college student who lives in a cramped apartment should not adopt a dog… one also had to consider the college student. One also has to determine the quality of the owner. A loving, knowledgeable, committed owner in a small apartment can be a better place for a dog than a sprawling suburban house with a fenced in back yard and non caring dog owners who ignore and neglect the dog.

I think it was fate that allowed Mia to collapse on the road side in Kansas so many years ago. She collapsed at the exact time the right person came by. And the person who came by was one who would need and appreciate a good friend.