When we were in San Diego, I had a chance to see my former dog, Deuce. She was my 25th birthday present to myself, almost eight years ago. That day I went to the local animal shelter looking for a dog. Deuce — who had been called Lisa by the shelter — was the only dog who didn’t bark or jump up in her kennel when I walked by. She seemed friendly, and after spending some time with her I decided to adopt her.
From what I could tell, she had never lived in a house with people. When I picked her up from the vet’s office, after her mandatory spay surgery, she wouldn’t get in my car. She didn’t know how to walk on a leash. When a car drove by, she would freeze.
We had Deuce for about five years. She came with us to Arizona when we moved from San Diego. However, when we were relocated to North Carolina we couldn’t find a place that would let us bring a 65-lb dog. We asked Pa, My Chemical Romance’s grandpa, if he would keep her until we got a house. He agreed. Pa loved Deuce and he often talked about getting a dog who could go RV-ing with him. It was a good solution for everyone — Deuce would be taken care of, and Pa would have a companion.
We got Deuce back two months after we moved, when we were established in our house. We were so happy to see her again! (We also had another shelter dog called Tex; later I got Maizey.)
The problem was that Tex was an escape artist, and we had a very hateful neighbor who would constantly call Animal Control on us. Animal Control would come to our house and lecture us — or the kids, if they were playing in the front yard — about keeping our dogs under control. I became very stressed about the situation, and I thought it might be best for the dogs — and us — if I rehomed them.
The first person I thought of for Deuce was Pa. My Chemical Romance called him, and he agreed to keep Deuce — this time forever. My parents took Tex (“just til we can find him a home”) and fell in love with him and kept him.
We kept Maizey.
Our trip to San Diego was the first time I’d seen Deuce in more than three years. Her fur was thicker and heavier than I remembered. She had a lot of grey patches. Her legs seemed weak and wobbly, and she kept going into her crate. I’m not sure she recognized me.
It was obvious that she loves Pa, and she seems to have a good life with him. They walk most days, and Pa brings her to family gatherings. She gets to run around in the backyard and chew on rawhide bones.
She’s a sweet dog. I hope she enjoys the rest of her life, with Pa.