Short of Stature, Large of Heart

Dog of the week: Oscar

Oscar is not what one would call a "dignified" dog. In fact, he's quite the opposite. With a head and coloring reminiscent of a Rhodesian ridgeback and the the build of a Basset hound, he looks a bit like a sculpting assignment gone wrong. But when he scurries excitedly up to you, stubby legs and big paws scrambling, and peers adoringly at you with his mismatched eyes, all you can think is what a wonderful, charming dog he is!

Oscar lives with my friend Sandy, who saw him in the county animal shelter seven years ago and decided to foster him for the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County. Given her love of Basset hounds (her first dog as an adult was a Basset), it came as no surprise to her friends when she decided to make him a permanent part of her family's pack.

It's a decision she's never regretted...despite a couple of orthopedic incidents: surgery to straighten a foot (his) and a broken finger (hers). The first was caused by inherited conformation issues; the second was the direct result of Oscar chasing a squirrel while attached to a leash held by Sandy.

And then there's Oscar's penchant for stealing--and eating--panties and socks. Fortunately, surgical intervention has never been required...although it's been a near thing a couple of times.

But with his big heart and exuberant, happy-go-lucky personality, it's easy to forgive Oscar his few foibles. He has a way of making every day--and every evening--a little brighter.
 

Welcome to My Neighborhood

 

As promised in  my last post, here's my first weekly dog photo.

I met this bulldog in Helsinki, Finland. I originally saw him from a distance, hanging out with a bunch of guys sitting on some steps. Suddenly he noticed me too, so I sat on the pavement and waited as he ambled closer. Shortly after I snapped this photo, he came right up to greet--and hump--me. Not sure if he really, really liked me...or just wanted me to understand that he was the boss. In either case, his human companions had a good laugh.

When We Make Animal Adoption a Chore: An Insider's Perspective

As I methodically and meticulously filled out the multi-page adoption form, diligently answering questions ranging from where my dog would sleep and what food I would feed her to how and where I would play with my dog and who would care for her when I’m away, it never for a moment crossed my mind that my application would be denied. Why would it?

I’ve been involved in the animal welfare world for quite a while. I’ve volunteered for one local organization for more than a decade, fostering dogs and serving on the board…first as a member at large and then as vice president. For the past four years I’ve worked at a private, non-profit shelter, helping promote and publicize its mission, accomplishments, and adoptable animals. And I’ve donated to and participated in fundraising efforts for still more local, regional, and national animal welfare organizations.

Natasha & Boris

Over the past 25 years, my husband, Mark, and I have shared our hearts and home with six of our own dogs. From Boris and Natasha, siblings of an unplanned litter, to Tango and Samba, rescued from a home where children were tossing the week-old puppies like balls, to current “fur kids” Ceiligh, now 12, and 2-year-old Fletcher…we’ve loved them all and tried to give them the best possible lives we could. These lives have included obedience and agility classes, hikes in the woods of Pennsylvania’s Pocono Mountains, forays to local parks, and romps on the beach and in the surf on Hilton Head Island. We’ve dealt with a variety of medical issues, ranging from incontinence, luxating patella, and ruptured cruciate ligament to seizures, degenerative myelopathy, and hemangiosarcoma. We’ve celebrated our experiences together and mourned those that have passed.

Tango

Given our experience and commitment, Mark and I believed we were ideally equipped to welcome another homeless canine into our pack. So when a friend brought to my attention a 3.5-month-old puppy available for adoption from a local rescue group, we decided to check her out.

Having introduced 17 foster pups to prospective adopters over the years, I knew the drill. At least I thought I did.

So when volunteers failed to greet us as we approached, showed virtually no interest in us, and made no effort to converse with us, I was surprised. Still, we liked the puppy and thought she’d be a good match for us so we applied to adopt her. And, confident that we’d quickly be approved, we set up a crate in our bedroom, bought some new puppy toys, and started puppy-proofing our house.

Samba

It didn’t take long for the expected email to arrive, But when I read the contents (We can't proceed with your application. You could not have signed our contract, which stipulates that dogs must not be off leash except in a contained area. We are sorry for your disappointment.) I was stunned

What?! Where had they gotten that impression that we couldn’t sign a contract stipulating that our dogs not be off leash except in a contained area? I was sure nothing in my application could have led them to that conclusion. Surely it was just some sort of mistake or misunderstanding.

Determined to get clarification, I responded, explaining that we had not and would not let our dogs off leash except in our yard, which is enclosed by a 6-foot privacy fence, and that we would welcome a home visit to check our living situation.

Two days later I received a cryptic message that said only:

I believe there were several pictures of dogs off leash on a property and at the beach.

Not exactly the response I was expecting and one that left me more confused than ever. What pictures were they referring to? So I asked.

A day later they wrote:

We were given this, your blog, which shows your dogs on a beach???

Ahh, at least now I understood. The photo at the top of my blog does indeed show Ceiligh strolling along the beach. And, yes, it does appear that she is “leashless.” In reality, however, she was attached to a 30-foot-canvas leash, which I removed from the image for artistic reasons.

I explained this and included several photos of Ceiligh and Tango taken at the beach that day, which clearly showed their leashes.

The next day, I received what seemed a somewhat grudging message notifying me that we could proceed to the next step of the adoption process.

Finally! I felt vindicated.

But a feeling of having to defend ourselves had left my husband and me with the proverbial bad taste in our mouths, so we chose not to pursue the adoption.

Fortunately, while engaging in our multi-day online “conversation,” I’d discovered that three litter mates of the puppy we were interested in had been rescued from the shelter by another rescue group…the same group we’d adopted our dog Fletcher from 18 months previously. And the members of this group were thrilled that we were interested in adopting another dog from them! They welcomed us enthusiastically at their adoption show (where Fletcher had a joyful reunion with is foster mom) and said, of course, we could adopt the puppy. So despite the fact that their adoption fee was higher, we were happy to pay it…and will likely continue to support them. Talk about good marketing.

So…our adoption story has a happy ending and we have a new canine companion we love!

Folly

But we also have a better understanding of why people—good people who want to do something positive for a homeless animal—can get turned off by rescue organizations and the whole adoption “thing.”  They get tired of jumping through sometimes arbitrary hoops; they get frustrated and angry when they’re ignored, dismissed, or treated condescendingly or even with suspicion; and all too often, they end up buying a feline friend or canine companion from a pet store…something none of us in animal rescue wants. Every animal that doesn’t get adopted prevents another animal from being rescued from a shelter where it remains at risk of euthanization when space runs out.

I’m not saying that animals should be placed in just any home. We owe it to the dogs and cats (and bunnies, guinea pigs, etc.) we’ve rescued to do our best to ensure that they go to homes were they will be safe, cherished, and cared for.

And I understand how easy it is to become attached to the animals we care for and how emotional the process of letting them go can be. One of my most painful fostering recollections was hearing a puppy cry and scratch at the inside of her new home’s front door when my husband and I left…even though I knew her new family would love her always.

Fletcher

Nevertheless, we must avoid the trap of thinking that no home can be as good as ours, that no one can love the animal as much as we do. As a speaker from the ASPCA once said at a conference I attended, those of us in rescue often get caught up in trying to find the “perfect” home instead of trying to find a “good” home. And while we wait for perfection, another shelter animal dies.

We also must remember that even after interacting with potential adopters, reading their applications, and perhaps checking references, we know only the smallest bit of who those people are. I can remember once being concerned that a couple interested in one of my foster puppies wasn’t spending a lot of time sitting on the floor of the pet supply store playing, petting, and cooing over the dog (which is what I would have been doing). Fortunately, I decided that was no reason not to approve their application. Thank goodness. Although they weren’t publicly demonstrative people, these people adore their dog!  At some point, we just have to take a leap of faith.

Are there people who shouldn’t have animals? Absolutely.

Should we adopt an animal to everyone who wants one? Absolutely not.

Ceiligh

But we can and should treat every potential adopter with respect and courtesy. We should applaud their desire to give a homeless animal a home and, unless they give us reason to believe that they would not love and care for animal to the best of their ability, we should encourage them, educate them (especially first-time pet guardians), and guide them in choosing a companion best suited to their personalities and lifestyle. 

And perhaps we should acknowledge that one size doesn’t fit all when it comes to adoption. Rules are important, but sometimes breaking them is the right thing to do. While my husband and I don’t allow our dogs to run on the beach or hike mountain trails unleashed, I know some extraordinary dog guardians—including a couple of professional dog trainers—who do. They have trained their canine companions well and know—and trust—them to respond to commands even in the face of irresistible temptation. Rejecting the applications of such people would only deny a homeless dog an amazing home. 

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we should never miss an opportunity to leave every person we interact with feeling positive about our organizations and about the concept of animal adoption in general. The results if we don’t can be unfortunate on so many levels.

We can miss out not only on good adopters but also on potential volunteers and donors. Our organizational reputations can suffer.  But the real tragedy is that we may discourage people from trying to adopt an animal not just from our organization but from any organization at all. And when that happens, we fail homeless animals everywhere.

It Matters

The shelter where I work recently took in several dogs from Korea. They were rescued by Humane Society International from a dog meat farm, where canines are raised as agricultural animals for human consumption.

Surprisingly, the adult dogs seem remarkably friendly and social. Sadly, the puppies are a different story. They cower, growl…and threaten to bite, requiring the use of thick blankets to pick them up and handle them. It’s impossible to ignore the emotional, psychological pain in their eyes.

Still, where there’s life, there’s hope. And we all hope that, at 2 to 3 months old (we’re guesstimating since a thorough physical exam was made impossible by their fear aggression), that they are young enough to overcome their mistreatment and lack of human socialization. Only time will tell.

On a larger scale, will the rescue of a couple dozen dogs from Korea do anything to curb the dog meat trade in Korea or other countries? Unlikely. But as expressed so well by the late naturalist, poet, scientist, and humanist Loren Eisley in The Star Thrower*, that doesn’t mean that this rescue didn’t matter.

In fact, for these few dogs, nothing in their lives will ever matter more.

*Once, on ancient Earth, there was a human boy walking along a beach. There had just been a storm, and starfish had been scattered along the sands. The boy knew the fish would die, so he began to fling the fish to the sea. But every time he threw a starfish, another would wash ashore. "An old Earth man happened along and saw what the child was doing. He called out, “Boy, what are you doing?”  “Saving the starfish!” replied the boy. “But your attempts are useless, child! Every time you save one, another one returns, often the same one! You can't save them all, so why bother trying? Why does it matter, anyway?” called the old man. The boy thought about this for a while, a starfish in his hand; he answered, “Well, it matters to this one.”

Pics of Portuguese Pups

Everyone who knows me knows that two of my greatest passions are travel and dogs. And more often than not these passions overlap. So while most tourists focus their lenses on historic sites, natural beauty spots...and each other, I find myself zooming in on local residents of the canine variety.

And, as these images from Portugal--from small pampered pups to a huge wolf companion--demonstrate, there's never a lack of furry four-legged "models." (Click pictures to view larger images.)


Thank goodness!

A Fair Exchange

Today is beautiful. The snow is falling, there’s a fire in the fireplace, and the Christmas tree lights are glowing. But as I wrap presents, hang “just one more” ornament on the tree, bake cookies, and listen to Mannheim Steamroller and Trans Siberian Orchestra CDs, I find myself getting a bit teary. My own pleasure and contentment remind me of the sense of loss and sadness two other people must be feeling.

Yesterday, a longtime supporter of the shelter where I work—I’ll call her Hope--brought her cat in to the medical center to be humanely euthanized. The cat had found herself at the last year for reasons I don’t recall. Miss Daisy, as we named her, was confused, cranky, and—in her middle teens—not what one might describe as “highly adoptable.” It didn’t help that she rebuffed most people’s attempts to show affection.

Miss Daisy peers suspiciously at shelter visitors.

But despite all this—or perhaps because of it—Hope stepped in to help. She agreed to foster Miss Daisy with the intention of adopting her if she and Hope’s dog got along. Perhaps Miss Daisy knew this was her best chance because while she and the dog never became what you’d call friends, they were able to coexist.

Hope knew that her time with Miss Daisy might be short, but she was committed to making the cat feel loved and cared for. When Miss Daisy’s health began to decline, Hope did everything possible to preserve her quality of life. And when the time came that Miss Daisy’s life no longer had quality, Hope made the difficult but generous decision to let her go.

Miss Daisy rests comfortably in Hope's robe.

When she arrived at the shelter, Hope mentioned that she had no photographs of Miss Daisy. I told her I had taken some when Miss Daisy arrived at the shelter and offered to print them for her. While appreciative of the offer, Hope asked if I would take one more so she could have images to remind her of both the beginning and end of Miss Daisy’s journey with her.

I feel privileged to have been able to do that for Hope…especially after all she did for Miss Daisy, but I have to admit that it wasn’t easy. Just a few short hours earlier, my good friend Sandy had said goodbye to a beloved canine companion.

I’ve known Sandy—and her dog Jocy—for more than a decade, ever since the day Sandy and I met at a volunteer orientation for a county animal welfare organization. Since then, we’ve spent countless hours together…taking foster dogs to adoption shows, veterinary appointments, and home visits; enjoying good wine and good food in bars, restaurants, and each other’s homes; and even indulging our mutual love of travel with travel both domestic and international.

Jocy explores the reeds.

 At least two of our “girls” trips included Jocy. One was a weekend on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, where Jocy indulged her love of the water along the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. The other was a visit to the Poconos, where Sandy, Jocy, my dog Ceiligh, and I enjoyed peaceful walks in the woods and even a quick dip in a cold mountain stream…the dogs, not us. Such are the experiences from which wonderful memories are made.

Enjoying a walk in the woods.

Jocy was a sweet, calm, even-tempered dog who seemed to love everybody and everything, especially her food and her “mom.” She was the benevolent leader of a three-dog pack and served as a great canine “sister” and role model to dozens of foster dogs over the past decade.

Jocy (left) shares a special moment with a new foster dog.

Last year Jocy began showing the signs of age, including a progressive weakening of her hind limbs. Sandy and her family did what they could to make Jocy’s life easier, carpeting first the stairs and then the floors of rooms Jocy frequented to give her the traction she needed. When Jocy could no longer make it up and down the stairs, Sandy and her husband took turns sleeping in the first-floor family room with her so she didn’t feel abandoned by her “pack” at night. They fitted her with a handled harness to help her walk. In short, they did everything humanly possible to make her life comfortable.

But eventually, inevitably, “everything” wasn’t enough. Deciding that existence isn’t “life,” Sandy and her family asked their veterinarian to make a special house call.

And so my pleasure in the joys of today is tempered by other, somewhat intertwined and complicated emotions. I feel sympathy for Hope’s and Sandy’s losses. I feel a sense of melancholy as I remember my own departed loved ones. And I feel admiration for and appreciation of the courage it took these women to ease their loved ones’ passage. Such a decision can be painful almost beyond bearing, but when life has become a struggle rather than a celebration, it is also, I believe, the greatest gift we can give our animal companions...and the price we pay for their extraordinary gift to us: the gift of companionship.

I’d say it’s a fair exchange.