The promise is sundered

Scarlett. (This is six years ago; now she’s grey in the muzzle.)(Photo by Linda Hughes.)

Six years ago, having just put another fabulous Irish-Setter to sleep because of cancer, my wife, who was still alive at that time, wanted another dog.
Seemed fine with me. That previous dog was very much attached to her.
We would get another rescue Irish-Setter.
Irish-Setters are hard to find. They don’t seem to be in demand any more.
My wife heard about a “meet-and-greet” In Buffalo (NY). The Irish-Setter Rescue organization in Ohio would bring dogs for a Rochester couple to see.
We decided to see them too.
The Rochester couple was looking for a proposed “therapy-dog.”
The Ohio group had one, named “Scarlett,” they thought appropriate. Scarlett is a people-dog.
It was surmised a dog we might be interested in was one of Scarlett’s puppies.
Google-maps in hand, with printouts of Google “Street-Views,” we set out for Buffalo.
We found the house without much difficulty. Google addresses for a Street-View don’t correspond with reality.
Finally the lady from Ohio arrived in her minivan.
She opened the side door. She had four dogs with her, all crated.
I could hear one dog thumping its tail.
“Oh, that would be Scarlett,” the lady said.
“Well, I gotta see that one,” I thought. I can’t resist a wagging tail.
We started leading the dogs around.
Scarlett was extremely energetic, her puppy wasn’t.
I couldn’t resist Scarlett. The whole idea of an Irish-Setter is a high-energy dog. A loose cannon.
Her puppy wasn’t very energetic. Seemed like not much an Irish-Setter.
The lady also had two other dogs along. One was “Rhett,” the puppy’s sire; the other was “Charlie-Brown.” Both were very laid back. They were Irish-Setters but didn’t seem it.
Scarlett seemed crazy; very much an Irish-Setter.
Not only that, she was gorgeous; the best-looking Irish-Setter I had ever seen.
Lots of feathering.
But she was a handful. Could I control a dog like this at my age?
“Is it fair,” I thought to myself; “to take on a dog like this at my age?”
“Well, I guess I can,” I thought. I had just put to sleep a very high-energy dog.
And I still felt fine at age-64. (I’m now 70, and bushed.)
We brought Scarlett home; the Rochester couple took home the puppy.
Scarlett would have been impossible as a therapy-dog. BOINK! Into the face of a shaky nursing-home resident.
We brought her home with my promise I’d do my best to give her a happy life.
But the promise is trashed.
My wife died leaving me with much more to do.
I don’t have much time for Scarlett any more.
Her toybox, which I used to toss toys out of willy-nilly, sits fallow and unused in my bedroom.
Once-in-a-while I make time to toss a toy for her, but it’s not like before my wife died.
It’s like I have to wedge that in among all the other things I have to do, like make my bed, do laundry, etc.
“You have that fabulous big yard,” my doggie-daycare guy says. “Toss a ball around for her.”
Like all-of-a-sudden I have 3-5 minutes to do that, wedged in among all the other things I have to do.
Scarlett loves that it’s me left; I was the boss-dog anyway, “the Master” so-called. My wife was quickly forgotten — although not by me.
I can no longer fulfill my promise.
Scarlett has learned to hunt. So far at least 10-15 rabbits and innumerable moles have died in her jaws.
But I can’t take her hunting any more.
For her a walk was hunting.
And worst of all is shoving her aside with yelling so I can do stuff.
“This is what life has become,” I yell. “It sucks!”

• “Linda Hughes” is my deceased wife.
• A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. (Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.) By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s my fourth rescue.