Force is dead

Last night, I fed Brie and Newt their last meal, loaded them up into their dog boxes, and made the trek down to Shreve. Tom agreed to return them to Carp Lake for me to the Caldwell's, to their original pack.

I have inadvertantly forced a situation by bringing Brie and Newt into our kennel. Brie is stressed, losing hair when she should be growing it, and not eating well; Newt is aggressive, dominating "tail up" position always and not thriving.

As I said goodbye to them last night, leaving them in the trusting and capable hands of Tom, I cried. Saying goodbye to them is a bitter pill to swallow. I had such high hopes for them, for this winter, for what they could become. Saying goodbye to them is like saying goodbye to part of a dream. I forced a situation by buying them that I might have been ready for, but my current kennel set up wasn't.

Force is dead (take a closer look at the headstone picture above). I've wanted this dream for so long, that I've become impatient and unfocused, forcing it to happen prematurely. I know saying goodbye to them is best. Still, it's hard.

Amazingly, Brie is not pregnant. I had her to the vet yesterday to confirm this before returning her.

Tom called at 10 o'clock to tell me Brie had escaped from his kennel. Luckily, she is well socialized and just hung around their house. He tucked her safely in a crate in the barn for the night, and she is currently heading up north with Tom and 16 other dogs.

We'll miss you, little Brie.