It has taken me all day to write this because i finally stopped crying uncontrollably.

First off i received a call last night from a new PTer, Dr G, who offered Boots a home with her daughter in Phoenix and even, kindly, offered to pay his plane fare. Second, he's been listed on Petfinders through a local rescue sight. Plus all you guys have been sweet and caring.

My neighbor called at 11a this morning: "Boots is GONE!" she announced, gleefully, i might add. Me, being half asleep: "Huh? Whaaaaa"?

Her hated daughter in law's cousin has been wanting a dog for her 9 yo son and by chance, Boots is available. They came over, fell in love with him, and visa versa (but then Boots loves everyone). And before you know it, off he goes. Me, groggily "Where is he now"? Neighbor; "He's on his way up the street".
Me..silent for once in my life.

They begged me to help them find him a good home. i, for the first time in my life, took the time to research and help. I should have kept him. I think the reason I've been so hysterical (poor John, trying to console me and madder than heck)is that I paid a dear price for his life and became very emotional over him. i bought him a new collar, treats, yes, folks, the prong, because he kept slipping out of his leather collar, into another neighbor's yard, is young, but powerful, and was easier to control. It was on very very loose, he never even felt the tug. He was never injured or hurt by it, but it helped him be calmer. I don't like them either, but used correctly, are not painful (no sadists here-what are you kidding me?). He played at my house, ate my food, played with Logan. Now their problems are over, whoopie doo. I never had a chance to kiss the little bugger goodbye. A destroyed left wrist forever, but, hey, that's OK, he was worth it. I, once again, wore my heart on my sleeve, minded someone else's business, got kicked in the ass, got emotional devastated, but so what?

Have to go, tears in the way. I don't know whether I'm more hurt by their uncaring, or the fact I'll never see him again and wonder forever how he is. Or, the fact, i should have let them handle everything. Or feeling sorry for myself. I guess a combination.

I need a drink, another hysterical cry, a lesson in learning to mind my own beeswax, and...have to hug and kiss my own baby girl. Pass the tissue, i can't stand it anymore.