Sometimes, you just have to wing it when writing a blog post:
First, in a bit of shameless self-promotion, here's the cover of what will be a young reader's book about dog rescue. I admit the image would look better if the back cover had a blurb. That's the fault of yours truly. Simply haven't come up with something catchy enough yet. If you have some ideas, please let me know. The story is loosely based on Lance's story but as seen from the eyes of a ten-year-old. Those who have read Lance: A Spirit Unbroken will recognize that Jimmy gets into some of the same predicaments with Lance  that the author did years earlier. My purpose in writing Jimmy, Lance and a Second Chance is to give younger readers  a child and a dog to root for.
         
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Here's something I found on the Internet. There's a some truth sewn into the humor:

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Last but not least, here's a photo a lady was kind enough to send me. It shows her husband engrossed (naturally!) in reading Lance's book, while his dogs are engrossed elsewhere. P.S. I'll get back to Heidi next post.

Following our ill-advised attempt at re-homing Heidi, Clara and I did our best to adapt to our dog’s at times nerve-wracking presence. I took Heidi for two walks daily (she reminded me if I was behind schedule for either of them). Using the training sheets from Sit, Stay ‘n Play, I refined the basic commands with Heidi. One thing didn’t change: Heidi remained unfriendly to all other living creatures except for Clara and me.

One morning, following a walk, I inadvertently left the fence gate open. I didn’t realize I had until I heard Heidi barking at the top of her lungs off in the distance. When I hustled out onto the street, I saw her lunging at a neighbor’s dog, one that was leashed and being walked by his owner. After a few scary moments, I was able to corral my dog by the collar. I apologized profusely to my distraught neighbor and sheepishly walked my dog back to our property. Shades of living with Lance. ☹😊Clara was still sleeping so I spared her the details.

In December of 2021, Clara underwent knee surgery. She had only been discharged a few days when she began feeling extremely ill. EMT transported her to the hospital. I drove to the ER to see how she was doing, not feeling so great myself. When I got there, I found Clara had been diagnosed with COVID and admitted to the hospital. I was also diagnosed with Covid (moral of the story: never go to the ER, even as a visitor!). I was given a series of shots and discharged from the ER. An ER Doctor told me, “We are overwhelmed. If you have COVID but you’re walking and talking, you get to go home.”
I was released but I felt like death warmed over. Heidi didn’t get her second walk that day.

The following morning, Heidi pestered me for her morning walk. I dragged myself out of bed, hooked her up and outside we went. I literally staggered like a drunk down the street. Our walk was cut short, and I spent the rest of the day convalescing. The following day I felt quite a bit better and the day after that it was as if nothing had ever happened. Clara was not so lucky. She had been admitted to the hospital on a Wednesday and came home that Saturday. The aftermath of her knee surgery combined with the lingering effects of Covid was so severe that, for all intents and purposes, Clara was totally disabled. She spent the remainder of December, all of January, and the early part of February stuck in her recliner, experiencing physical pain in a way she never had before. She was too weak to rehab her knee, which greatly complicated matters. Only later did we find out that she was also dealing with the scourge of what came to be called Long Covid.

We faced a dilemma. I could take care of things when I was at home, but I had two part time jobs. During the hours I was outside the house, Clara was unable to get to the door to let Heidi out to do her business. She also wasn’t able to feed our dog. Heidi, an active dog, was also being deprived of exercise. We couldn’t let Clara’s daughter—or anyone else, for that matter—into the house because Heidi wouldn’t allow anyone—apart from that single time with Dave and Mario—to enter.

I called off from work several days in succession in order to deal with things at home. Clara and I both realized that was a temporary solution to a long term problem. One of my employers let me know she wasn’t happy with my continual absence from work, letting me know my job was in jeopardy.We were faced with the distasteful possibility of having to surrender Heidi to a shelter.

A neighbor suggested that, while Clara was convalescing, we try boarding Heidi at the Pocono Bed and Biscuits Dog Hotel in Stroudsburg, PA. I checked and found this enterprise had excellent reviews.  I made a call and set Heidi up to be checked in the following day. Per my calculations, my salary would just about cover the cost of boarding Heidi while I was at work. The things you do for a dog.

The next day, while I was at work, Florence, the lady who had recommended the doggie hotel, came to our house to retrieve Heidi. Despite being fearful she’d get bitten, Florence bent down, picked Heidi up and carried her out to the car. Her daughter Alexis, previously threatened by Heidi, held Heidi in her lap while Florence drove. The entire drive went without a hitch—or bite. For the second time in her life, Heidi had been docile with strangers. Inexplicable, at least to me.

Upon arrival, our dog was turned over to the Bed and Biscuits staff. Though it was costing us financially, both Clara and I took comfort in knowing we had left Heidi in better hands than Dave’s ( see A Tale of Two Re-homings Part Three).

We signed Heidi up for a week’s stay. That gave both Clara and me a week’s reprieve to rest up and brace ourselves for Heidi’s return. We had found a solution, albeit a costly one. Unfortunately, it was not a permanent solution—or was it?