I’ve started Elsa a chip in. Not much to add there, but since she has turned out to be quite easy to handle I made her an appointment to be spayed on Monday. We’re going to discuss heartworm treatment options there (Fast vs. slow kill) and I was quoted $500-$1,000 depending on the severity of her infection, plus her spay cost, and plus her vaccinations. Since the shelter severed ties and released her to me, I am paying for her out of pocket, so it’s hustling doing hair for donations and putting this out there. http://dffb.chipin.com/elsa

Elsa is quite quiet tonight. A little bit of crying earlier, but mostly quiet. She did take a chunk out of the drywall, but to be fair to her a bit was hanging off just asking for it. She also shredded a ton of empty cardboard boxes and all the potty pads I put down for no good reason at all. While she is definitely not feral, I’ve been giving her a lot of space and time on her own. She did go to the bathroom and eat her entire dinner tonight, so I feel she is settling in. My boyfriend also spent some time with her while I was at work, just petting her until she slept and saying her name as she followed him about the room. I was team Elsa from the beginning, so of course she prefers him over me. That’s OK, my Dachshund likes me best. While she seems OK with her surroundings and allows me to do any thing to her, I’d rather leave her be and push nothing. The vet appointment on Monday will be a bit of trauma we can’t avoid, so she can have this weekend to sleep and do as she pleases in her space.

I’m sitting with her as I type this, though. She is sleeping next to me so I guess I’m cool. Of course this leads me to wonder that as a 25 year old girl, how did I end up sitting on the floor of the basement apartment at 12:30 in the morning internally excited to watch a dog sleep next to me. I’m not entirely certain where I went off the deep end, but I did at some point. I did not grow up a crazy dog lady and I can’t pin point where it happened. I always liked dogs fine, but never at a point where I’d pull a completely unsocialized dog set to die with a plan of action on how to make her adoptable and new. I’m not a particularly kind person. I’ve done bad things to good people and I’m not sorry for a lot of things. I’m usually the bad guy and I don’t mind doing it. Rather than wax philosophical about it I guess I can just tell you that I like dogs.

Won’t really be much to report in the next few days. Gonna give Elsa a lot of space. Think of her Monday. She goes in at 7:30 AM.


I have finally found a purpose for this blog. Her name is Elsa and she is new to our home as of tonight.

Elsa was named for Elsa the Lioness. For those unfamiliar with the story, in short Elsa was a lioness that was taught to be wild again and set free into her natural surroundings. My Elsa is not a lioness but a dog. A dog that has no idea what it is like to be a dog. I came to know Elsa after getting a job in the kennel location of a local rescue. She was deemed feral and pulled pregnant from a rural animal control. Her pups were born and adopted, and without resources to help her she languished in a kennel tucked away from the general public. I had talked about her for months, wondering what would become of her. Last week I caught wind her execution date was set and it set in for me that this dog had to get out and be given a chance at adapting to normal dog life. She was offered to me, severing ties with the rescue, and so I took her. Heartworm positive, in heat, and all baggage.

So as of 8:30 this evening she joined my household. Not really joined it, she is currently crated in an apartment attached to our house. I assumed being introduced to normal life and our dogs would prove overwhelming and her being in heat nixed even considering the idea as I have an unaltered young male in my home. I had a whole plan hatched on how to work with a feral, but it has since become obvious to me that she is in fact not a feral dog. Perhaps a stray for a long time, or an unsocialized outdoor dog in her previous life, but not feral. She also does not seem so much fearful as entirely uncertain of things. She is relaxed, accepted petting and being loaded in and out of the crate. She has taken a shine to my boyfriend, who is not really the dog nutjob I have turned out to be- figures. She screamed her tits off for a good portion of the night and began to go to town on the door, so she is back in her crate and quiet for the evening. Now we begin getting her healthy, both mentally and physically.

So that is it for this intro. I’m not an eloquent writer, and so this will not be a blog of revelations and words of wisdom. It’s just a blog about a dog pushed off the priority list and where she’ll go from here. There is going to be an end to Elsa’s story eventually. Her story will end in an adoption to a forever home, or we will let her go peacefully as initially slated- but not for lack of effort and not without a taste of what it is like to be a dog.