Grooming Room

The month Ben was in California, I had a breakdown while at lunch with Stacy and the fellow apprentices. The stress of caring for three special-needs dogs, and feeling like I was Brenda’s only chance for survival was too much. It became clear that some tough decisions would have to be made soon. If Brenda’s life became so small, was it humane to keep her alive? I couldn’t think about the consequence of answering no to the question, and knew I owed it, not only to Brenda, but to myself, to first exhaust all possibilities for rehabilitation.

One thing was clear, Brenda wasn’t going to miraculously recover while holed away all day in my apartment. She needed contact with other humans and dogs to have any chance at all. For about a month after my breakdown, she went to daycare a few mornings each week. For her, daycare meant sitting in a crate inside the grooming room located at the doggie daycare that Porter and Sadie go to. The grooming room was filled with dogs of all sorts and daycare staff milling about. Since Brenda was in a crate, nobody was in danger. I was even told that for the most part, Brenda remained calm and even got excited when new people entered the room. She of course couldn’t be trusted outside of her crate, but I think that at least on more than one occasion, she took treats from someone she didn’t know.