One about the dog

Yesterday, I had myself utterly convinced that I was the worst dog-mom ever.  You see, Ammon has been working really hard to find full-time employment.  On Friday night, he was lucky enough to get an offer for a one-month contract position working full-time in the lab he already works in, at a substantially higher rate.  Huge blessing for us, considering we have to make the first payment on his student loans in exactly one month and 3 days (not that anyone around here is keeping track of that awful day).  However, it meant Ammon wouldn't be home all morning every morning, and that we needed to get Gunner into doggy day care.  We had a referral to one right by my office from our friends at the Lab rescue, and their rates are pretty comparable to everywhere else, so we decided to give it a shot, and give them at least through this next month to prove their awesomeness.

So yesterday morning I got up extra early so that Gunner and I could promptly make his 8:30am appointment.  Except that I forgot that I had to stop at the on-site office to pick stuff up first.  Then I battled traffic all the way, and suddenly that impression of timeliness that I was hoping to give off was one of frantic apologies.  Especially when Gunner started growling at every dog in the lobby.  And suddenly I became "that" dog mom.  The one who is apologizing to everyone while her tantruming dog is causing a scene.  I was afraid they were going to turn him away right then and there.  They shrugged, said that it was likely "leash aggression", especially given his past positive experiences at the dog park, and took him back anyway.  Thank goodness.  I really didn't know what I was going to do if he got turned away.  Cry loudly and call Ammon, probably.  They had me stick around to make sure he socialized properly, chastised me for about a dozen things they think I'm doing wrong with my dog, and then told me I was free to go to work, feeling like the worst dog owner in the world would give me the stink-eye.

What did I do within 10 minutes of walking in the door to work, which is 5 minutes from camp?  I turned on the camper cam.  I was immediately concerned that I would get a call telling me that he had been expelled, and I had an hour to come and get him.  Sometimes I'm a little overly-dramatic in my internal monologues.  By the time 5:55pm rolled around (I get off work at 6:00pm), I figured they might have felt like he did alright, and that there was a chance he might be invited back to play in the future.  And thankfully, when I got there today they had the following waiting:

He passed his tests, and is not free to play!  This was a huge relief to see.  We still aren't sure that Gunner really likes it there, but given our current living situation, we don't have much of a choice.  Hopefully in the near future we'll be able to move somewhere that allows Gunner to relieve himself in a yard at will.  Until then, I'll have to hope that he continues to make friends at camp like Lula the Pointer and Cooper the Lab.  And yes, both his progress report and certificate are on the fridge at this very second.  Momma needs reassurance that her boy did good things.