After two days and nights of listening to her pace the floor, whine whine whine whine whine and repeat, two days of her not eating a thing (dry food, wet food, milkbones, peanut butter, fat from shredded granny pants - not one morsel would pass her sorrowful doggy lips), realizing that we had taken a dog that was used to being outdoors a lot, with six other dogs to play with, and put her in a home where she would spend her nights indoors and dog-friendless, we decided (after a bit of coyote-type howling at three a.m. woke Cass and he padded in to say "Mommy? I think the dog is scared and wants her Mommy') that she would be happier at her old home.
And she was.
After Bear said goodbye (and he really liked having a dog here) and the kids gave her a last pat, I took her back. Pulling up in the driveway, the dog wormed her way out of the back into the front seat and gave a couple of joyful barks. Once I let her out, she ran around and played fetch and rolled over in joy so her tummy could be rubbed by the man that raised her. She was acting like a puppy - a big change from the timid, restless, unhappy animal I'd had at my house, all doggy grins and flopping, foolish tongue.
So we are still looking for a dog. Perhaps a puppy.
Waiting until the fit is exactly right, though, doesn't help with the emptiness here in the house tonight.