OK, so some people thought that I was joking when I told you about Mrs Steve's bouncing cake ( I wasn't) , but to me it was just one of those crazy things that seems to happen to me a lot more than other people.
To prove this, let me compare a random chap off the street getting a dog to my own efforts to obtain one. This has actually happened and is all true. Either God puts idiocy in my way on purpose, of all the people I deal with are totally sane, and I'm the crazy one.
Normal chap getting a dog.
Walks into dogs home -> "Hello, please can I have a dog?" -> selects dog from those available -> home visit -> recieves dog.
See, it's easy isn't it. Sadly not for me.
Myself and Mrs Steve have wanted a dog for a while now. With a new, bigger house and lots of fields etc, and me working from home a lot more, we decided in early december that the time was right to go and get one, so we toddled off the a local dogs home in order to get a mutt.
A note here. I won't name the animal shelter, but it's in the Yor/Leeds area, and this place friggin *loves* me, as not only have I already got two cats from them, but I take in all the unwanted "oddities" that people dump on them, which mostly involves fish ( as I have a lot of fish tanks ) but also the odd rat, hamster, gerbil, ferret etc. For a while the old house was turning into a zoo in front of my eyes and my two cats were going spare either trying to eat or run away from the latest arrival. Now a days I just keep the fish, and re-home through friends the other animals.
Surfice to say, these people know me, I know them, and, seeing as someone usually drops a new match of fish around every week or 10 days, know the cats have a good home. So no house visit for me, as they already know a dog will be OK.
So, we arrive at the dogs home, and go for a trundle around the dogs. I see something in the corner which looks a little like a road accident on LSD, but actually turns out to be the ugliest dog you've ever seen. Bald spots every where, so skinny you can see every bone in his rib cage, and obviously very badly beaten up and scarred (although without a doubt this was a damn ugly dog to start off with).
Anyway, for some reason I'm taken with him, so me and Mrs Steve take him for a walk. no matter what he looks like, he's an excellently trained dog and by the time we take him back, we decide to take him.
So, we go to the front desk and ask about the dog. Turns out he needs a whole load of the vets time and meds in order to get properly healthy, and the amimal centre can't afford all the bills so have paid to get him stable, and the new owners will need to get him properly well. Add the ugliness to this, and no one wants him, and he's been there a horribly long time.
So, we say we'll take him, agree to cover vets bills etc. Woman at the desk is ecstatic, and runs off to get manager of the shelter. This causes a groan from me, as I'm not a fan of said woman. I swear, with my hand on my heart, that this is the most crazy, stupid woman you have ever met. This is a woman who is that dumb she could sit on the ground and manage to fall off.
So, out comes the loon, giving it the whole tears, snot and limp hugs routine, telling me what wonderful people Claire and I are, and that the dog is amazing lucky. I just nod and hope to christ she goes away, but she decides that she herself is going to do the paperwork for this dog.
All seems to be going as well as it can be with the paperwork, given who is filling it out ( apart from when she left the cap one the pen when she tried to write, and couldn't work out what was up until mrs Steve pointed the cap out to her...) until we get to the bit about the dogs name.
The current name of the dog is something dreadful like "Tango" or "Turner", or at least something equally as revolting beginning with a T. So she asks us
"Are you planning to change it's name, and if so, what to"
"Why yes" replies I "I *will* be changing it's name, we're going to call it "Dog"
"ha ha" says loon "What are you actually going to call it?"
"no really, it'll be called "Dog" " says me
This meets with much opposition. It turns out that, for some reason, it is cruel to call a dog "Dog".
"Why" I ask "Does the dog care what it's called by humans? I don't understand why this is an issue"
After much muttering, confering wih her juniors etc, she explains that it is demeaning to call a dog "Dog", and so they won't let the dog come home with us.
Cue snot and tears from Mrs Steve. I try to explain that I will pay all the vets bills, that the centre knows it's going to an excellent home, that they can't afford to get the poor swine better, and, most importantly, the dog truely won't care what it's name is, but still we're not allowed the dog.
In desperation, I say that I'll keep it's old name. Now the woman won't believe me, and STILL won't let us have the dog.
At this point, I decide to leave, but to appeal to the national group that runs the shelter. I write to them, explain the full situation with out bias, and ask them to interceed.
This morning I got a phone call. The issue had gone all the way to the exec board. They have decided too that calling the dog "Dog" would be degrading to the dog, which would harm it in ways unspecified, and that I can not adopt it. Along with this, they have said that becuase they do not believe that I will keep the name of any other dog I adopt, they "respectfully request" that I do not try and adopt any dog from any of their shelters.
At this point I am fully convinced that the world has gone mad.
Two hours later, I get a phone call from the same crazy manager lady from the animal shelter where all these issues started.
Some one has brought in a tame otter, and they can't get it re-homed until feburary. Please could I take it?
After establishing that she *was* actually talking about an otter, rather than, for example, a hamster, becuase lets face it she's not very bright, and I have never heard of a tame otter, I ask her why doesn't she take it to the river and release it. She explains that it was some ones pet ( who makes a pet out of a friggin otter??? They make polecats look tame and gentle!!) and doesn't know how to hunt. Oh, and do I know what food someone would feed a pet otter as it doesn't seem to be eating fish....
I ask her if she knows what has happened about the dog? She says yes, the exec council told her yesterday. I ask her how the dog is. She says it died a few days ago due to liver complications ( the same thing that the centre couldn't afford to treat, but I was willing to cover costs for...). I ask her if, given the situation and the news she's just given me, she thinks it's good form to ask me to take on animals from them at the moment?
Here quote, word for word:
"Well, otters are *sort* of like dogs... aren't they?"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:(
Question to the board, and be honest here:
Is it me who is stupid for not understanding that calling a dog "Dog" is degrading, or is it the animal centre who are full of madmen???
Seriously folks, what am I missing here???
Steve
