White Dog was ready. So was Oso. They were to be the day's White Dog Army Ambassadors at the Please Find Me A Forever Home Event at which our Paws To People, Bridges To Cures had an information booth. We were just walking out of the door when we got a call from Lisa, the owner of the Pet Supply Store who was sponsoring and organizing the Event.
"Did I still catch you at home?" she asked. "Just about to walk out. What do you need?" "Well, beside sleep and another two days for organizing, nothing really. It is what it will be at this point." I waited.
"I know you are bringing some or all of the White Dog Army..." "White Dog and Oso," I replied. "You will probably hate me, but I put all of the rescue groups at the far end, away from the band in hopes the dogs won't get too excited..." "And?" "Well, those of you without animals are closest to the band..." "And?" "Well, your space is right next to them. Thought you might want to consider that in your decision of who to bring. Nuka might be your best choice."
Of course, she was referring to the WDA deaf girl who doesn't mind noise at all as long as no one steps on her when she naps. The news caused a quick powwow with WD and Steve. The band was only scheduled to play part of the day and Lisa had promised to ask them to lower the volume if the band became overwhelming. Still they were a hard rocking seventies and eighties hits kind of band so there would be percussion and screaming guitars and it would be amplified. I could not risk either the stress or hearing damage. "Sorry my dearest loves, change in plans. I will go to this event sans white since it is after Labor Day." No one laughed at my feeble joke. My explanation of concern landed on closed ears and I watched WD's pitiful stare follow me down the drive and down the street.
When we saw the setup I was convinced we had made the right choice. We were not next to the band; we were within a foot of their speaker bank and their soundboard with its writhing coils of cords pushed into our space. When they played, our information sharing was reduced to holding out our printed sheets, pointing to appropriate passages, and shouting "THANKS!" Turning down the volume wouldn't have helped; they would have had to unplug.
During the breaks in music we had a lovely response and were touched by those who came up to find out about our fight to end catastrophic diseases and who ended up sharing their stories, thoughts, and losses. It is during those moments that I feel our work is most rewarding.
The day was a success and resulted in several adoptions and serious applications. To make it up to the WDA, a few bags of their favorite Fromm's treats managed to find their way into our box as we packed up.
When I doled them out, I played "Born to Be Wild," "Whole Lotta Love," and "Can't Get No Satisfaction." WD looked up after a few minutes. "What is with that awful noise," she asked. "Just thought you would want to hear what you missed I smiled and clicked off the sound system.
My girl is obviously of a way different generation.