I had an appt and wendy had one too - both of us out of the house, so what to do with Baxter? I walked him to the car, put down some pads and then bent to pick him up. he cowered, and i thought, i should leave him somewhere he is accustomed to at least, not all this shuffling around, so i walked him back in the house and into his room. but he began to scratch the door frantically right away, so i relented, went back up, leashed him, took him to the car, put him in. wendy gave me a pep talk, be calm, it's okay, tell the tax person you don't have much time as you have a sick dog in the car.
the whole drive over he tore at his weeweepad. it broke my heart. i parked, petted him, said i'll be back i promise, and sprinted to the tax person. disheveled I said, I have a sick dog, a sick dog i love dogs, well not exactly sick, a rescue, oh boy, we have to get out fast. i signed and sprinted back.
the weepad was in shreds. baxter was not throwing himself against the seats, instead he sat up when i got in, cowered over to the other side, looking at me, submissive, wary. i got in put my arms around him told him i was so sorry i wasn't leaving i wasn't caging him. i felt terrible he was in a strange place, all these sounds, the confusion. the way he was then, and when i lifted him back out of the car, and he went into a doggie fetal position, that's when my heart broke and i knew on a deep intuitive level just how sad he was.
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