Most pet rescues have them. The lifers, and the ones who despite all the right looks and personality just never get picked for that new home.
Annie is our lifer. She requires just the right home, and for her, so far, that combination just has not arrived. It will, we have faith. But this post is not about Annie.
It is about Phoebe. Phoebe is drop-dead gorgeous. A black and white Siberian Husky (yes, I am biased) with big deep brown eyes. She is tall and lanky, like the supermodel of Huskies. Sweet, sweet personality. And always the girl sitting by the dance floor watching the other girls get invited to the ball. But not Phoebe.
Well, to be fair, she was chosen once. Turned out to be premature, the poor fellow ended up having to take three jobs to pay the rent. He wisely asked us to find her a new home, since she could not get the attention she deserved with him.
She was not always gorgeous. She came to us with a bad case of demodex mange, and skin infections. Poor thing looked like an overused toy, and she itched constantly. Months of treatment, it seemed like endless months. Finally, the right meds did the job, and her lustrous coat grew in. She was ready for the ball.
The application was quite unlikely. An older couple. WAY older couple. No fenced yard. And cats. We set it aside, and politely declined it, explaining that an 18 month old Sibe needs LOTS of exercise, and a previous foster said she was hell on cats. Sigh... next, please.
Well, they were on a mission. They had looked at her many times, and passed her over because it said No Cats. But they kept coming back. They asked for earthly and heavenly guidance, and the answers came back: ask once more. Accept the answer.
They wrote us a wonderful, well-reasoned, and detailed two-page, single spaced letter explaining why they were the right home for Phoebe. It was moving and convincing. We tested her with cats - turns out she could care less, unless they want to play. Play is good. We talked with the Board. It seemed clear that we should give them a try.
Still one obstacle. They live in Yorktown, VA. That is a trip. And, they made it clear, they were willing to make that trip. Problem was, we needed to see her interaction with the cats. Well, as it turns out, we were planning a trip to Maryland, and Yorktown is not that far off the path. The plan was set.
Oh. My. Goodness. This is truly a match made in Heaven, and they will tell you. Phoebe gets to walk 4-5 hours a day in historic Yorktown, on the river, meeting and greeting and playing with her human and canine friends. The cats have quickly moved from curiosity to best pals. The two grey parrots - yeah, they did not mention those - established their boss status the first time Phoebe stuck her nose between the bars. Dem beaks is sharp!
Phoebe is Queen of the Ball now. The right one came along. After almost two weeks we are still getting daily pictures and stories. That is one happy girl!