O.C. Animal Services……Where the Animals are the Employees, and the Services are Non-Existent

“Stop the dogs from barkin’/ then proceed to walkin’….”

Get ready for a tear-jerker.

Recently “Wifey” and I went to the local O.C. Animal Shelter where we were looking at prospective pets. She’s a dog person; I’m a cat person, so there’s been drama for a couple of years there. Anyway, after Wifey gave up trying to talk me into adopting about 50 headstrong, loud, and annoying puppies, we were about to leave when we decided to check out the adult dogs.

I actually found one I quite liked. She was 2 years old and found as a stray. I’m not an expert, but the dog looked like she was part boxer, part pit bull. Relatively small at under 30 pounds and full-grown, it was more my kind of dog, but a good compromise – lively but obedient, loving, yet not overbearing, and best of all, SILENT. They roomed this girl with the biggest, loudest, most insane dog I’ve ever seen, and she didn’t bark, whimper, yell, or groan once. Plus, it’s a really, really good deed to adopt adult dogs, since most people never want them. Next to “SisCop (M.C. Coppin’s sister)’s” dog, who I’ve been trying to “commandeer” for a year now, this was the perfect mutt.

Normally, these places let you play with the dog for 10 minutes alone before you can adopt – and we tried to exercise that option that day, and would have, but for the incompetence of the workers. We asked about five different people to take the dog out. One short, fat douchebag mumbled something about how it was his lunch hour, and passed us off to someone else, who was talking to the douchebag like we weren’t there. Another guy said he would get someone else and never came back. A tiny, extra-wide girl (is being short, tubby, and unattractive a requirement to work there? Maybe….) with no neck said she would get the dog out, but had to give another dog a shot first and disappeared for 15 minutes.

I was beginning to sense that some 80’s savings and loans were run better than this place. Ironically, all of the workers looked like cops – they had official shirts, black pants, and large utility belts with walkie-talkies, flashlights, and tools. I wondered to myself what the point of these radios was, when no one ever used them? Anyway, after another five minutes of asking around, “Nilneck” comes back and we get some alone time. Wifey and I liked the dog even more and decided this may be THE ONE.

Now, I digress here because I want to stress to the R.D.R.s (Real Dookie Readers) how much I dislike dogs. For the near-decade’s worth of years of my adult life, I’ve shot down every attempt to own a dog. Besides that, I’m allergic to them. So, for me to even consider a dog, the stars must have been aligned perfectly, angels and saints must have interceded or interposed themselves into my heart and brain, and the Holy Spirit had to have been working beaucoup overtime. And I was ready to cave completely – that’s how great this dog was.

Only one step separated us from dog-owning. “Wifey” wanted to make sure our little ones at home liked the dog. So, we told Nilneck that we would be back in an hour after which we would likely adopt the dog. Wifey got the whole household excited by telling them the R.D., which was about to stand for “Reluctant Dog-owner,” had given the green light, and she headed back to make her dream a reality.

Half an hour after we’d left, they’d put the dog to sleep.

Now, you can consider this the “Blossom” episode of my blog, but I have to end it here. There will be no funny one-liners or quips to end this entry. Needless to say, the wound still smarts, and a household cried itself to sleep that night. My experience definitely led me to believe that at O.C. Animal Services, they clearly have the wrong species behind cages.