From July 7, 2023

His name was Tambi. I’m not sure if that’s the name you had for him in the first few months of his life or if that’s the name the shelter gave him in the scant few hours he was there. But if you recognize his name from the calls of it throughout your house or from the photoless listing on the city website, this letter is addressing you. This is what I want you to know:

You did a hard thing, and I’m glad you did. I’m sure it broke your heart, but I’m merely assuming from the level of detail you put on his intake paperwork. You listed all 8 of your children’s names, you noted how much he loves squeaky toys, and that his favorite thing to do was make you feel better when you’re sad. I’m sure this was one hurt that confounded your heart immensely. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t care. You said he loved to eat but he just didn’t gain weight. That he often ate so fast it would come back up. I want you to know he came to us with a belly full of parasites, that will happen when a dog lives outside full-time. But there were 10 people in your home, and I’m sure space was tight.

He does gain weight, by the way. And antibiotics helped to clear the lesions on his body. Did you know the other dogs were biting him? Maybe that’s part of the reason you did this hard thing.

So let me tell you who he is now. His name is Fig. He still loves squeaky toys and he still loves to cuddle. It turns out if you put him on a bed with a blanket, he burrows. He gets zoomies just before bedtime and then we put him in his footie pajamas – since he wiggles too much to be tucked under a blanket – and he goes to sleep with a calming hemp chew is his very own bed. His anxiety is improving, but he’s still unsure sometimes. I wonder who he’ll be when he’s confident, off duty. He has 3 dog sisters he loves to play with. He has a suite of enrichment toys to quell his curious mind.

In a month and a half, he’ll be coming on a 2 week road trip across the southwest. He’ll be going to Roswell to look for aliens, Truth or Consequences to see the mountains and the hot springs, to the White Mountains of Arizona and the forests of Flagstaff and all the way to the Grand Canyon. That’s right, your Tambi will see one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. He’ll go to Santa Fe and the Petrified Forest, and places I can’t even know yet.

One day, I’ll take him to meet the ocean. We’ll take him to see the whole country. We’ll keep him safe, and healthy. His life will be full of comfort and care and adventure.

Did you know the day you surrendered him was one month until his first birthday? That’s next Wednesday now. I’m sure you did. I can tell you care. It would be so easy for me to say the things that other people have assumed about you: How could you let it get this far? But resources are not always fairly allocated. I believe you did the best for him that you could. And I just wanted you to know he’s okay.

I wonder if you checked the website, I wonder if you saw that all your dogs were adopted less than 24 hours after they came. I wonder if there was a finality to knowing that there was no going back. No running into the shelter making declarations of your changed mind. It was over now, and they had new lives, and the way was sealed.

I’ll tell you from my similar vantage that people are cruel. Very few of them understand the circumstances that can lead you here until they’re dealt the same ones. ‘Ah,’ they will say, ‘it can happen to me, too.’ And it makes them no less a good person than it did you.

Fig is loved and cherished. He is a special boy, and you were one of his shepherds. Thank you for your hard decision, from both of us.