I feel like a fool for getting my hopes up.

Anyone who knows me at least reasonably well knows that I am very much a dog person.  Ever since I moved out of my Mom’s house and away from our dog Chewbacca when I was seventeen, I’ve been waiting patiently to have my own pup to share my space and my life with. Waiting patiently until I could be sure I had a stable enough job, with sufficient income to reasonably be able to afford any expenses that will and may arise with the responsibilities of the care required to ensure a happy and healthy life for a creature wholly dependent for its wellbeing. Waiting patiently to be independent enough and confident in my responsibility to take care of myself and provide a stable life, free of the chaos inherent in a young bachelor’s first stumbling years in an effort to gain footing solid enough, and the emotional maturity to, not only meet my own needs but that of another. Waiting patiently to provide a safe and loving home for a creature to feel secure and cared for, something that may not be altogether familiar to an animal that too may not have had the easiest go of things in its formative years.

This all brings me to this time, after nine-and-a-half years of waiting, patiently as I could, and having all criteria finally in place, having a conversation with my landlord. We’ve discussed this possibility on a fair amount of different occasions, that this would be something that they would allow.  Finally I had been given the go-ahead, and immediately I began to search local shelters for someone suitable to not only live with me, but for me to live with them.  I settled immediately on a beautiful one-and-a-half year old Border Collie cross, who was being fostered locally, waiting for a home.

I immediately filled out an adoption application, trying my best to gird myself against the possibility of heartbreaking disappointment.  Nothing is ever being certain until it’s finalized, of course. A day later, I’ve been contacted by the organization currently fostering this pup, and they seemed quite exited that I had taken an interest in him, and were happy to arrange a meeting, if only they did a few checks of my background.

I can only assume at this point, that things were checking out just as I had said, but my landlord/roommate decided it would be prudent to mention the situation to her aunt and uncle, just to spare any potential awkwardness if they weren’t expecting an animal running about should they ever come to visit.

From what I hear, they went ballistic, and just like that everything was put to a halt. As tempting as it is, I’m trying my best not to be bitter and petty, but I signed a contract with my landlord, the homeowner, not her aunt and uncle. Well, apparently this is irrelevant, as they berated her over the phone for being so foolish for even mentioning the possibility. God only knows why- I’m nearly thirty years old, more than willing to pay any extra deposits and/or increased monthly rent, very well prepared and harbouring a vested interest in providing a safe, happy home for a dog to live in-not ignoring it, letting it run rampant and destroy the house. They’re dog owners themselves, and you would expect them to understand how important that can be to a person, but this is not the case.

Honestly, I’m very well aware that this may come off as melodramatic, and even a little silly, given that this whole whirlwind of activity has taken place over only two days, but this is something that I’ve been preparing myself, mentally, financially and otherwise for almost a decade.  Clearly I’ve been able to live without, but not without the persistent feeling that something very important has been missing, and I regret not having the ability to fulfill my wish and provide a home for an animal in need.

And yes, I suppose I’ve waited this long, and it won’t kill me to just wait longer, but for me this has been both the most exiting, and immediately the most heartbreaking experience I’ve been through in quite some time. 

I’ve just sent an email to the fostering agency, expressing my disappointment and embarrassment, and requesting that they disregard my application. Additionally, I’ve offered my time as a volunteer if they ever need assistance socializing, walking,caring for (in my apparently limited capacity) or playing with their animals. I’m not sure if anything will materialize, but I’ve put it out there.

In the end I should learn to manage my expectations, and temper foolish optimism. I guess I will just have to wait longer, as patiently as I can.