Man’s About To Return Shelter Dog When He Finds A Letter From The Previous Owner

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Shared August 22, 2018

Man’s About To Return Shelter Dog When He Finds A Letter From The Previous Owner

Today we’re going to tell you a story about a black lab called Reggie who was in need of a new home. A man had settled into his new town after moving house – but something was missing in his life. He knew that needed a canine companion to fill the void, so he headed to his local shelter.

There he met a black lab named Reggie who was looking for a new home, so he took him. But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. In fact, they didn’t get on right away.

The shelter said that it could take two weeks for the dog to adjust to his new home, so the man thought he’d wait it out for the duration. Maybe the dog wasn’t used to his new environment or maybe they just weren’t bonding. Whatever the reason, it looked like they weren’t getting along.
But when the man started going through Reggie the black lab’s stuff, he remembered there was a sealed letter that the previous owner had left him.
From this point on, the story will be the man’s recollection of the event.

They told me the big black Lab’s name was “Reggie” as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle into my new life here and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys – almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.



See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home).

“Maybe it was the fact I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.”
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls – he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn’t really think he’d need all his old stuff, that I’d get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn’t going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like “sit” and “stay” and “come” and heel”, and he’d follow them – when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name – sure, he’d look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he’d just go back to doing whatever. When I’d ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn’t going to work. He chewed a couple of shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn’t wait for the two weeks to be up. And when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the “darn dog probably hid it on me.”
“Finally, I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter’s number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter.”
I tossed the pad in Reggie’s direction and he sniffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I’d seen since bringing him home. But then I called, “Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I’ll give you a treat.” Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction – maybe “glared” is more accurate – and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that’s not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that too. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”

Would Reggie the black lab be ok? He opened the letter to have a look.

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