I received an email from Travis’ new Daddy yesterday. It said in part:
I have to say that Travis feels right and is already comfortable here. Last night he slept right next to me in bed. Exactly where I would like him to sleep. Please know that Travis will be loved and cared for as long as I am alive. When I adopt a Greyhound I make a commitment to keep them and give them my heart.
Naturally this made me cry but not for the reason you think. When Travis arrived on Labor Day weekend, he was so afraid he would duck his head and skitter backward when you tried to pet him. The first night when he woke up in the dark, in an unfamiliar place, he rooed so loudly and relentlessly it drove me out of my bed. I spent the rest of the night on the sofa where he’d sleep for a bit then wander out of the office to make sure I was still there, and return to his bed in my office. He was a shy, scared, gentle creature.
For over four months I took care of that little buggar; taught him how to trust, how to socialize, and how to be a pet and companion. When you love someone and let them love you back, it takes something of you when they leave. But to know the void I’m experiencing has given him the life he deserves, a wonderful family, it somehow makes everything worth it. At least you know you’re hurting for a good reason, and it brought some good into the world.
I realize this sounds exceptionally mushy, but it doesn’t change the fact it’s true. Improving the world, or any minute part of it, isn’t easy. Most of the time you receive no sign that you’ve made a difference at all. So to have definitive proof of your work and sacrifice is a tremendous gift. My hope is that you all may know it.