Author:  Tressa Lucas

Standing in her kennel run, the adorable blonde terrier looked disheveled and embarrassed.  It was a busy and noisy day at the rescue facility, so why weren’t people looking at her?  Her innocent brown eyes peered through the hair covering them, her glance following each passerby.  Mayflower was her name.

She had one of the sweetest faces.  When I took her out from her kennel for a walk, the smell of urine was strong.  The fur on her back end was a matted dark grey mess.  It became clear why people were not paying her any attention.  Mayflower had a problem.  She was not urinating on herself because she was fearful, she was incontinent and it was probably caused by some kind of trauma, like being hit by a car.  Considered unadoptable by most, that did not stop us in our quest to find her a forever home.  The May chapter was about to begin.

My time with May was significant because she was my first long term foster dog.  She came into my life not long after adopting Nika.  I should clarify it was not just “I” who fostered, it was “we” because May was the first dog Nika and I fostered.  She was with us for a year and a half, longer than any dog we have fostered.  I learned patience, perseverance, and letting to.  I also learned to look beyond May’s condition and see only her sweet little soul.

Mayflower became May, my nickname for her.  Before taking her out as a full time foster, we took her out for regular walks at the facility.  Then we took her for outings to the park and hikes.  She grew accustomed to our car and was so excited when she saw it.  She would jump in, as if to say, “Let’s go…I want to get out of here!”  Our walks turned into overnight stays.  She was doing so much better outside the facility, I could not take her back.

When I met May, it was clear she really needed help.  We got her groomed and had special diapers made for her.  We took her to different vets, for acupuncure, chiropractic…you name it.  Unfortunately, her condition was not curable.  It was manageable with a routine of walks and grooming, but who was going to adopt an incontinent dog?  Someone once said that something has to be wrong with somebody who wants to take that on.  I couldn’t focus on that too much and just took one day at a time, thinking somehow this is going to work out.  If all else failed, she would stay with us.  Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months turned to over a year.  If the right person came forward, great.  If not, that was fine, too.

Everyone who met May fell in love with her.  When potential adopters learned her story, they quietly moved on.  While fostering her for the rescue organization, her photo remained on the website.  Sometimes, the thought would cross my mind…what is the point of keeping her picture on the website, nobody is going to adopt her.  What is the point of taking her to any more adoption events…the rejection is too difficult.  We just kept moving on together with our morning hikes, time at the dog park and just being together.  May became part of our lives.

One day, I received the call.  Someone wanted to meet May.  Her name was Mary and she had two daughters, Esther and Hannah, and a white male poodle named Pierre.  Ironically, Mary worked with special needs children.  Adopting a dog is a big commitment.  Adopting a dog with special needs takes the commitment to a new level.  I wanted to make sure Mary knew everything about May.  We met at the facility and went for a walk with May.  Mary was still interested in adopting her and she seemed like a very special person.  I went to visit their home with May and it went very well, but I was not sure yet.  As you can imagine, I had grown very attached to May  Realizing I was too close to the situation, I needed an objective pair of eyes.  So, we did a second visit and I brought someone who could bring that objectivity.  It appeared to be the perfect home for May.  Mary asked if May could spend the weekend with them and then they would make a family decision about adopting her.

The following friday evening, I drove May to Mary’s house and we sat outside in the car together for a few minutes.  May sat in the passenger seat and looked at me – she knew something was happening.  I told her everything was going to be ok.  We were going to try this out and see how it goes.  If she was not comfortable there, she did not have to stay.  I left May for the weekend visit with her new prospective family.  The following Sunday afternoon, I picked her up.  She looked happy, not just because I was there to pick her up, but because she had a good time.  Mary said she would call me in a few days.  May, Nika and I made our way home and waited.  The next day, Mary called me and said, “We would be honored to have May in our lives and we want to adopt her!”  I was happy, yet said…it was a bitter sweet miracle.  I could not believe May would not be with us anymore.

The following weekend, Nika and I took May to her new home.  We had come to know her family, so it was more of a transition than an abrupt change.  We stayed in touch for a while.  May even came to stay with us when they had to leave town.  Our contact lessened over time.

What seemed impossible became possible.  May is an example of a dog labeled unadoptable but with time and patience, she became adoptable.  May is no longer with me physically, but she is with me every day nonetheless.  What I learned from her will remain with me forever…I am so grateful May is forever home.