"Goodbye my friend.." as the James Blunt song goes. That particular song has always made me a bit melancholy upon the tune reaching my ears and it seemed a fitting song for this.
Last week, after a year and a half, we made the decision (honestly, it was after quite a bit of pressure) to return Heff to the rescue group that had placed him with us. There was a lot of concern in regards to him from the get-go, but for a year and a half we tried to make things work. We loved him. Yet he frustrated us. He was in some ways like an unruly child who you love with all your heart but just wish you could find the reasoning behind the undesirable behaviors. It wasn't that he was a bad dog, it's just that he wasn't the right dog for us.
Heff had become accustomed to a lifestyle that, at current, we just couldn't offer him. Heff required a yard. It didn't matter how many times a day I walked him (and trust me, I have friends that can vouch that not only did I walk him frequently, but that after 10 minutes, he wanted to go back home and sleep), because he didn't have the freedom to come in and out as he deemed necessary, he was unhappy. He hated being crated; so I stopped crating him and instead babygated him into the dining room (and then changed it to the living room). He still left me presents.
So, here we are, a year and a half later and I have an empty space in my home. Maybe some day we'll fill that void, but it's not going to be any time soon. We love you Heff and we miss you.
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