I thought I was ready to be a Dog Person again. Two trips to the shelter and I was in love. When the handler couldn’t coax her out of the cage and I could, destiny was in motion, and fate was behind the wheel that drove it. By the second visit, I had a name picked out and was ready to sign on the dotted line. An unforeseen dilemma at the front counter ensued as, unbeknownst to me, the man at the next register had fallen in love, too. Not until I had obtained a receipt for payment, did the second cashier look over and realize that the same dog was being processed in two separate transactions. A somewhat heated discussion began to take place with the cashiers, and the manager was called to the front to settle the dispute. I remained quiet as they paged through the log sheet to determine who actually arrived first. Silently victorious, I knew that I was there thirty minutes early and the very first to sign the log. I never looked directly into the man’s eyes, because I couldn’t face the disappointment as he explained to his son that they would have to find another dog. I hurriedly walked out of the place feeling somewhat guilty and cocky at the same time. The first night of unrest by endless hyperactivity, was followed by a second day of allergic reaction to my grass. As we tried to bond over the next few days, I realized that the only time she was truly happy, was when I laid on the couch and she curled up next to me. When I left to go to work and put up the baby gate to keep her in one room, she defied me each time by meeting me at the front door, first conquering the two foot height of the gate, then the four foot height just as easy. Adding to the distress was also the realization that she wasn’t potty trained as thought, and an entire hour outside, morning or evening, was not enough to keep her from doing her business just five minutes after coming inside. After two weeks and two trips to the vet, I finally had to admit that Breezy would be better off with someone who could be with her all day, and somewhere where the grass was greener and less prone to make her sick. Yes, I immediately thought of the man and his son, and no the shelter didn’t think it was a good idea to track him down. When I did find a family with children who knew he would be great for them, I was relieved and gave them her bed, food, toys and anything else that would leave behind a lovesick memory. I felt good in finally making it right for all involved. Within 24 hours of my newfound freedom, I was contacted by Animal Control who had found her roaming in the streets two hours away from my home. I realized two things immediately, the first is that the chip works, and second, Breezy was determined not to be confined. Before we could get off the phone, the new owner mysteriously showed up to get the dog and I politely asked her to change the records so she could be contacted in the future. She agreed to do it, and a week later, I was contacted by Animal Control again. Not to be bound forever over the guilt of a failed relationship, and feeling that I had been punished enough, I called the chip company myself and asked to be removed from the record. In my heart, I feel that Breezy will always be a free spirit, but I feel better knowing that I won’t ever really know for sure.