In January 2022 the Kentucky Humane Society reached out to us for help.
They had just been to the scene of a puppy mill/hoarder where more than 100 Siberian Huskies were found in cruel and inhumane conditions. We loaded up the CHHS transport van with six large empty dog crates and I came back after a 12-hour round trip drive to Louisville with some very precious cargo.
One Husky in particular tugged at my heart. He was a mostly white Husky and looked just like my beloved Hemi, who had gone on to the Rainbow Bridge at the age of 12. So I named this sweet boy Hemi as well.
Just a few weeks later, all six of those brave canine survivors found new loving homes.
In early February 2022 Hemi met a great new mom and found a forever home in a nearby county. Fast forward three years later. Hemi’s name had been changed to Homer, and Homer had a great life with a great animal lover.
But recently, that animal lover — Homer’s mom — fell on hard times. Really hard financial times. With tears in her eyes, she brought Homer back to CHHS this past March begging us to take him back in. With tears in our eyes, too, we said yes, of course we would. CHHS has a no-questions-asked return policy.
Staff naturally looked to me and wondered if I might be able to give Homer a new home.
Since I’ve had nine Huskies in my life, that was a completely understandable question.
But things have changed since I rescued sweet Hemi/Homer from Kentucky three years ago. My home pack is full (it always is), but more so now. That ninth Husky of mine is Oakley, my blind two-year-old who recently had enucleation surgery. So at home, my plate is more than full. And as Clint Eastwood is famous for saying in one of his movies, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”
All animal lovers should. Knowing limitations prevents well-intentioned, kind-hearted people from becoming hoarders.
Homer wasn’t back in our compassionate care for very long. A wonderful couple near Cedar Creek opened their hearts and home for this magnificent seven-year-old Husky. Homer and I did another “head boop” in the parking lot before he eagerly jumped into his new parents’ car. His new forever home is only a couple of miles from our no-kill shelter. So it really wasn’t like saying goodbye to Homer. It was more like, “I’ll see you again sometime down the road.”
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