Melbourne is creeping towards a whole year of stage 5 lockdowns. Albeit, it hasn’t been a continuous year. Although part of me wonders if it would have been easier just to settle in for a year of not leaving our 5km radiuses, of only going to the grocery store, pharmacy or gas station (not that many people need gasoline) as our social interactions of the day.
But also included in ‘the reason to leave home’ is to pick up a rescue animal.
And so, like most people, we were thinking of filling the void of lockdown with a dog. After all, we did move into a new home with, what feels like, a million rooms after living in a one-bedroom apartment for the last 10 years or so. The house seemed empty. Quiet. A dog would surely fill the hollow in our house.
What we didn’t realize is that a dog would create a hollow in our hearts we didn’t realize was there.
After religiously looking for rescue dogs on the multiple pet rescue organizations in Melbourne we were beginning to feel desperate, as all the dogs we applied for came with at least another 30 people applying for the same dog. And so, when I learned no one had yet applied for Bruno, a brown-eyed, beautiful cattle dog, we hopped in the car and went to meet him. He was the first dog we had met in person on our pet rescue journey. And a wave of excitement came over us as Bruno jumped up to our chests, nearly toppling us over with his licks and his wagging tail. We took him for a walk and found his personality changed completely: becoming a good boy on lead, sniffing nearly everything but keeping pace with us and controlled even when other humans and dogs came by. And so we thought this might have been his ‘actual’ personality and his jumping on us before was just excitement at meeting new people. So we said ‘yes’ to him. Signed the contracts. Paid for their services. And loaded him into the car.
We had so much fun with him the first night. He was excited the whole time and we tried to tire him out by taking him for a walk. This did the trick as he zonked out on our living room floor snoring on my leg, letting his farts flow freely. Taking him to bed proved to be a challenge as he wanted to be with us. But, eventually, we were able to close the door on him and he didn’t whine for the rest of the night. It was only in the morning when my partner went to go pee, that he started coughing. Concerned, I got up to check him out. His coughing continued until I took him outside and wondered if it was his way of getting attention. Regardless, I was awake and Bruno was ready to run a marathon. So I took him for a walk at 5 in the morning, shaking my head at how ridiculously early it was, but also taking in the quiet and the beauty of the moon before dawn. He was happy to sniff and walk and sprint in our local park. And when we came home, he was still up for more action, jumping tirelessly on me as I tried to eat my breakfast and study from home. But it was impossible. He wouldn’t stop seeking attention and the toys we got him did little to deter his attention from us. But when he did admit defeat, he would completely crash. If I had to get some water or use the toilet though, I would be fucked as he would wake up and think it was time for play. And it was like this for the whole day. And even when he was asleep, he was on my mind, trying to ever so silently go about my work. I was a complete wreck. It was clear this was not just a ‘settling in’ behavior, but a part of who he was and a personality that would require a lot of work from our part to change, if we even could.
It was clear he wasn’t a dog we could keep up with. It was clear we couldn’t give him the attention he needed. It was clear we couldn’t keep him.
So the next day, through bouts of sobbing, I called the shelter and drove him out to Woodend to return him. I have had many painful experiences in my life, but one of them now includes trying to get Bruno into a kennel, shutting the gate on him and walking away. Through tears I talked to the shelter worker and tried to relay what he needs in a future family and then made the sorrowful drive home, licking my wounds from what was a tiring and emotional 40 hours.
And now, as we enter into Day 1 without Bruno, I feel a hollow in my heart I never expected. Perhaps it’s a mixture of guilt, of being the stereotypical 30 some year old in lockdown who never had a dog before but in the end couldn’t handle the energy and responsibility in taking on a dog; grief, in not being able to communicate to Bruno that I still loved him but just couldn’t keep up with him; and emptiness, as we enter back into this home that feels quieter, cleaner and bigger than it was before.
I was never a dog person before and, to be honest, I’m not sure if I still am. The reason why I never wanted a dog before was due in part to the energy required and lifestyle change involved to have one. Bruno certainly reaffirmed these beliefs and yet, all I can think about is the first beautiful brown-eyed dog who came into our life for a day, sweeping us off our feet (literally). And now I am left wondering how he is doing, praying for the first time in years a kind of intercessory prayer, hoping beyond hope he will find someone who will give him the love he needs and deserves.
Bruno definitely broke us and we have learned a big lesson in what we need in a future dog if we are to commence this journey again. I hope it was good and necessary in the end to have him, and even for him to have us – at least this is what I tell myself. Something has happened to us, like a mini-death of sorts. And so, as we experience the hollow in not having him anymore, we wait in this darkness, acknowledging all of the feelings that come with loss, and hope tomorrow (whenever tomorrow comes) will reveal reason and meaning out of our 40 hours with beloved Bruno.
by Rev Alisha 
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