Two weeks after walking away from Ranger, a Facebook alert told me he had been adopted. I didn’t have much time to contemplate this development, as Matt was eager to get my attention.

“Look, look,” he pleaded, trying to pry me away from Facebook. “Pleeeease look!”

I turned my head, and saw the sweetest dog staring back at me. Matt was holding up his computer, open to a black and white dog he found on Petfinder.com.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s the cutest dog, ever!!!” Matt told me.

I scooched in close so we could read the dog’s profile together. She had an unfortunate name, but her profile seemed to make up for that. It said she was “house trained, great with kids, cats and other dogs. Zero food aggression and very well mannered.” The organization advised against using a crate with her. Lexie was the same way when I brought her home; she hated to be confined. This new pup was a border collie/spaniel mix, although it almost looked like the mix more likely involved a corgi. Kinda goofy looking, but we liked that.

“Do you think she’ll be able to jump onto the bed? It says she’s only 24 pounds, so she’s small,” Matt asked.

We decided we would put an ottoman at the base of the bed, just in case. And the name. We had to do something about that. We decided upon Daisy. Yes. She would be our sweet Daisy girl.

Adopting her required submitting an application to a private rescue organization. This was a new experience for both of us, but we were eager to try something different after the humane society debacle with Ranger.

The application was thorough, and turned Matt off. Still, he plugged away, thinking about sweet Daisy.

The next morning, I called up her profile to swoon and think of all the things we would do once Daisy joined our family. I was shocked to see “Pending” next to her name. Butterflies exploded in my stomach. The organization must have fast-tracked her application! I called Matt, and he shared my excitement.

“You know, we’ll have to get her a sweater,” I said.

Two days later, Matt received an email from a woman at the rescue. She said she had contacted our veterinarian for a background check, and that the office had no record of Matt or Lexie. Well, that was because Lexie is under my name at the vet. Easy enough to fix, we sent the volunteer my name, along with a pic of Lexie from a recent camping trip. We were shameless about trying to sweeten the pot.

One day turned into two days, then three. Absolute radio silence. Out of desperation, I decided to give my investigative skills a try. The first place I turned? Facebook, of course. I found the rescue organization’s official page, and furiously began reading all the posts.

About 25 posts down, I found an entry by an apparent foster asking if a dog has five applications, do you call all five? She then mentioned Daisy by name, and said she would be at a meet-and-greet the next day.

Immediately, I sent the woman a Facebook message, asking if the pet store visit was a sure thing, that I was one of the applicants and would like to meet Daisy in person.

Radio silence.

When she later posted something else about Daisy without answering my note, anger began to brew in me. Two days went by. She posted a message about Daisy’s successful event. She posted about needing people to help her do home visits in Grand Blanc, Livonia and Downriver. But not Ferndale, where we live.

Daisy was slipping through our fingers.

Several days later, Matt sent the rescue contact a simple email inquiry: “Any updates?”

Again, nothing.

Two days later, Matt received two emails within moments of each other. The first one, from a volunteer we had not dealt with before, said Daisy was in the process of being adopted. She said the organization is shorthanded on volunteers, and urged us to get a home visit done to get approved for adoption. The second email, from the original volunteer, oddly spoke as if we still had a chance with Daisy. She said they were reviewing applications and evaluating which home would be a fit.

Within the hour, Daisy’s profile again was marked “Pending.”

That evening, we exchanged emails with the main volunteer, who now is eager for us to complete a home visit in hopes of better positioning us for an adoption. All this seems so much to go through to adopt a dog. Of course, I’m grateful they look out for the pups, but this process has left us somewhat battered and emotionally exhausted. And this is only dog number two.

Matt and I had just wasted almost two weeks waiting on communication that never came. Two weeks that we could have spent looking at other dogs. We needed to either change up our game, or take a break.

I appears we are back to the dating pool.

Epilogue:

While cruising the rescue organization’s Facebook page to research this blog entry, I came across a post from Daisy’s foster mom. Apparently, while she was crated, Daisy managed to tear up the foster mom’s carpet and padding. She suggested that anxiety (never mentioned in the profile) was an ongoing issue for the dog, and wondered if a trainer or meds might help the new owners.

Ah, yeah. Dodged a bullet.