Parting is such sweet sorrow

Today is a day of equal grief and relief. Grief, because I had to surrender Jack to the council. Relief, because he would be back to his rightful owner.

Knowing that would be today's scenario, I took every second of bonding with him. After sending off the chef to his work, we went out for a walk at the park for a poo and a pee. (Of course, that excluded me.) We had brekky and then brushed up for work. He was to sit again in the cold in front of the video shop, but after convincing the other staff, I was able to transfer him at the back of our shop. Folks who had seen him in the park and while tied outside were either hopeful he'd be found by his owner or he'd be fit enough to be adopted. Believe me, I had a growing list of wanna-be parents, with me sitting on the top!

It was almost 1pm, and there was still no sign of the collecting officer from Animal Protection who was supposed to have come at 10am. I gave the Council another ring and found out there was a confusion with the details about Jack being a lost-and-found dog and not what they thought as a missing dog. It was interesting to find out though that even at that hour, no one has reported having missing a pet like Jack. So, with my chef's blessings, I asked what procedures there were to adopt Jack in case his owners didn't claim him. The guy on the other end of the call gathered my details if this was likely to happen.

My lunch time came, so while he was still under our care, I took Jack home with me again. Barely finished with his chicken curry and milk (hmm, I wonder what his owners will think), Tamara rang me on my mobile to let me know the collecting officer had finally arrived. Jack seemed to have understood his fate he finished the rest in no time. Soon, I was handing him over to the officer, who happily discussed the details of the process in case we could adopt Jack. But as per their procedure, he was still scanned in case he was micro-chipped. At the sound of an affirmative 'ding', my heart sank for selfish reasons. The officer said that Jack would most likely find his way back to his owners, which should be good and just proper anyway, or I'd be given a ring if after 8 days in the pound, no one claims him.

I was hopeful both ways. But coming down to more logical terms at the present, I'd be more relieved if he got reconciled with his owners. And that's just what happened in the next hour. The Council called to inform me that his chip had traced him back to his owners, and that he was going to get picked up within the hour.

And guess what? His name is Harry.