Learning how to push-off in other ways…
My best friend trusted me to take care of her dog, and I lost him. I was desperate to find him so I ran and ran calling out for Chico, but saw no sign of him anywhere.
By the time I got back to the house, I was exhausted and in tears. How in the world was I going to tell my best friend I lost her beloved Chico?
I called the local Humane Society to report him missing. Bella sat next to me, looking at me with her big eyes, as I called the radio stations and local newspaper. Then I printed up fliers to post and hand out.
By this time, it was dark out and all I could think of was how was he going to stay warm and dry that night. Had someone picked him up and was he safe inside?
The next morning I ran again, this time with fliers. I knocked on every single door and spoke to all of my neighbors. Finally one lady said that yes, she saw him yesterday trotting down First Avenue, right in the road.
He was heading for Hagen Road a half mile away.
I ran down Hagen, knocking on doors and handing out fliers, but no one else saw him. I spent the entire day doing this, and still could not find Chico.
I had to make the call I was dreading.
But I didn’t want to phone my friend and worry her at her daughter’s wedding, so I emailed her husband instead. He agreed that we would wait until they were home to share the news with her.
Hopefully I would find her dog, safe, before she returned.
Days went by and then it started raining. Finally the guy who cleaned our pool at the estate, told me he thought he had seen Chico over on Vichy Road, two miles away.
I immediately ran there and started my routine of knocking on doors. One lady said she had seen him on the road a few days back. I felt like there was some hope that I would find him then.
Finally, my best friend came home and I had to tell her the news. She immediately started crying and came straight over to help me look for him. She and her husband drove their car as I ran from house to house, all of us calling Chico’s name.
We saw and heard nothing.
When I told her the entire story and how Judd did nothing, she looked at me and said, “You can’t keep taking care of him, Loretta”. And she was right. Losing her dog was the catalyst that propelled me into action.
Running was helping me emotionally as well as physically, but it wasn’t doing anything to change the situation I was in with Judd.
It was time to push-off again.
I phoned Judd’s parents and said, “I’m sending him back to you.” He made the decision to not get on medication, and there was nothing I could do for him.
I bought him a train ticket, drove him to the station and said goodbye.
And then I went home feeling at a complete loss. I had let my best friend down and I had yet another failed marriage.
What the hell was wrong with me?