Head vs. Heart

Some decisions involve your head, some involve your heart, some involve both.  For me, the decisions that involve both are usually the hardest.  Typically, these types of choices are those where the head should win out, but the heart makes it very difficult to make the right choice (or at least the choice that the head thinks is right).  I recently had to go through this process, and I knew that there would be vastly different results depending on which organ won out.

If you recall, a few weeks ago we took our dog to meet another dog, Pete.  Pete’s owners, who are friends of a friend, were no longer able to keep him.  I saw the picture of him and felt a tug (well, really, a yank) on my heartstrings.  What a sweet face.  How could anyone get rid of him?  I immediately forwarded the email to my husband, fully expecting an immediate and resounding no.  Imagine my surprise when, after pointing out  all of the potential issues with getting a second dog, he said we could still meet him and see how things went.  Pete and Maggie got along swimmingly.  They ran around the yard together.  They barked at other dogs.  We decided we would take Pete the next weekend for a test run.

He arrived at our house and things did not go as expected.  Maggie began barking at him and bullying him around.  She just would not leave him alone.  He explored the house for a while, and then all of a sudden he would no long walk on the hardwood floors.  This presented a problem because about 90% of our house has hardwood flooring.  We put some blankets down for him and he would timidly walk only on those covered areas.  I immediately started feeling sad because I thought there was no way this was going to work out.

Pete also struggled with learning how to use the dog door.  He figured out how to go out, but he refused to come back in through the door.  Despite these things, Pete was a very well-behaved dog.  Much better than Maggie.  His owners told us that he has a lot of anxiety when people leave.  We had no idea what we were in for.  We left that Sunday morning to go get some brunch, and as soon as we put our jackets on he began howling.  He’s a hound, so this pitiful, mournful bay came out of his mouth.  I’d never heard anything so sad.  It was as if he were saying “NOOOOOOOOooooo!”  We decided that a weekend wasn’t enough to truly assess whether or not he was going to fit in with our family, so we decided to keep him for the next week.

During that week, Pete learned how to come in the dog door.  He also learned (by watching Maggie) how to stand on the railing of the deck to look out over the yard.  He got over his fear of the hardwoods, and was soon running across them with Maggie.  We learned that Pete likes to bring you toys when you get home.  But not just one toy.  As many toys as he can fit into his mouth.  Sometimes he brings two, sometimes three.  It’s hilarious.  After a couple of rough incidents related to meal time, he and Maggie started respecting each other’s space and feedings went smoothly.

One week turned into two.  We kept discussing whether we were going to keep Pete.  Every time the discussion went something like this: Pete is a good dog.  We like him, but I don’t think Maggie is really warming up to him.  Do we really want two dogs when we are thinking about having kids soon?  Yet no decision was ever made because the heart wouldn’t let the head say what it really thought: We could not keep Pete.  At the end of two weeks, I said that we had to make a decision.  By this time, Maggie was spending a lot of her time trying to herd Pete, which involved nipping at his face, ears, and legs.  She was incessant.  Was she playing? Maybe.  Is that the kind of play we wanted in the house?  Probably not.  I was finally the first one to say it aloud, through small sniffs: I did not think we could keep Pete.  My husband agreed.

My small sniffs turned into body-wracking sobs.  I buried my face in Pete’s fur.  Seeing how upset I was, my husband offered to have us hire an in-home trainer before we made any decisions.  No, I said, worried that doing that would only prolong the inevitable, and it would be even harder to say good-bye.  I called Pete’s owner and managed to keep it together on the phone.  I could tell he was disappointed.  He said he would make some calls and get back to me.

Another week went by.  Maggie seemed to warm up to Pete.  Maybe we should keep him, we thought.  More of the same discussion.  No, I said.  We’d already made our decision.  We needed to stick with it.  I would steel my heart and get through it.  That Friday we heard from Pete’s owner.  The rescue had not yet found a foster home for him.  Maybe we should keep him until a foster family could be found.  I called Pete’s owner back, ready to offer this.  Before I could even do that, he said we had been generous enough, and he would come and get Pete on Sunday.  That would probably be for the best, I thought, though crying once again.

I was gone for part of that Sunday.  When I came home, my husband said Pete and Maggie had been outside in the yard, sleeping in the sun together.   Then they came in and both laid on my husband on the couch, and all three took a nap.  “What are you doing to me?”, I asked. That makes it even worse.  The time approached for Pete to leave.  I told my husband he would have to do all the talking because I would not be able to speak without crying.  Pete’s dad arrived, and oh, was Pete happy to see him.  That made it easier to say good-bye, but I knew Pete would not be able to stay with the family he had always known.  Through more tears, I watched Pete pull away.  Head had won out.

Or had it?  That night, Maggie was just lying around.  She looked sad.  Monday arrived, and we all felt sad.  Maggie was not doing her normal Maggie things.  Did we make a mistake?  I would not be the one to say that I thought the answer was yes, because I would be letting my heart speak.  The head had to be right in this situation.  Didn’t it?

By Wednesday, my husband said what I was too scared to say, “I think we just need to get Pete back.”  So, what did we do?  We got Pete back!  He arrived back at our house yesterday, and while he was not as ecstatic when he saw us as he was when he saw his owner the week before, he was happy.  And he was immediately feeling at home.  He and Maggie were soon tearing through the house.  They both slept on the bed with us last night (originally, I had no intentions of letting Pete on our bed.  Even though it is a king, Maggie takes up enough room.  My husband decided to invite him onto the bed one night.  I should have known then Pete was going to be a part of our family).  He and Maggie got along so well today.

My head knows that all of those concerns we originally had are still there.  But sometimes, every so often, the heart needs to win out.  The happiness and love that I feel when I look at Pete is all the evidence I need to know that we made the right decision, regardless of the fact that we followed our hearts.  I mean, look at that face.  Who can resist that sweet Pete?