Rescue ... and the excuses

Well, the weather is starting to get nice again, and the time is coming where I will start taking in a foster or two. The thought, though, really has my stomach turning. Why is that? Because the excuses of why dogs ended up in the shelter in the first place. Of all the dogs I've fostered or rescued, only one dog exhibited behaviors that I could see a normal pet owner would have a tough time handling. The rest of them were there through excuses.

"We're moving." - This is probably the number one excuse. I, personally, wouldn't move to a place where I wasn't allowed to keep my dogs. You see this one a lot on Craigslist, right before the dogs end up at the humane society. I've inquired about dogs on Craigslist, only to foster them when they came through IHS later. My question always is: "Does the breeder know you're looking for a home for your dog?" Often times, the response is, "I don't remember who the breeder is," or "I wouldn't give the dog back to that person," or, "I lost their number."

"He keeps getting out." - My first suggestion is usually to build a better fence, or to crate train the dog. The excuses come flying out and they are pretty dead set on finding the dog a home instead. "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"He's biting my children." - This one is pretty specific to Border Collies. You often find out that they are not "biting" the kids, but rather chasing movement, and no one has stopped them, so they've developed a bad habit. There are times when I can get through to a few people to never allow this behavior (set it up so it happens, only the pup is now on a long line and the correction is immediate), but mostly, they are already dead set on finding the dog a home rather than put in the effort to train the pup. "Does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"He sheds." - Yes, he's a dog. Yes, even small, mixed breed, short haired dogs shed, too. "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"We're having a baby." - This one really gets me. So tell me why, again, the dog can't stay because a baby appears? Would that mean you have to put some effort into dog ownership? Grrr. "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"It was a (Christmas) (birthday) (anniversary) (graduation) present." - Yes, an unwanted one. If you know anyone who is going to give someone a dog as a "gift," please discourage them from doing so. How would you feel if you had a 15-year commitment handed to you as a "gift"? "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

But all too often, you talk to breeders, and they all say the same thing: "They are all going to good homes." Oh yeah? I'm sure that's how it appears from their end, considering none of the people who put their dogs in the shelter are willing to contact the breeder. So the breeders can go on their merry little ways thinking that what they did was provide such "loving homes" for their puppies because they never find out any different.

Can I blame the breeders? Only for putting a litter on the ground in the first place - for no apparent reason other than that they have the "right to" - when dogs are being euthanized at an alarming rate -- especially now that the economy has tanked. But the breeders aren't the ones who have to deal with things when it all falls apart for the "good homes" they've placed their puppies in. The pups then end up in the shelters and are viewed as having "baggage." The only "baggage" they have is the baggage given to them by their situation.

Are there responsibly bred litters put on the ground with the legitimate purpose of maintaining a particular breed? Of course. Are there responsibly bred litters put on the ground with the legitimate purpose of maintaining the working ability in a particular breed? Yes. But it is not possible to maintain a particular breed (any breed) when the sire and dam are crossbred to start with -- which is all too often the case. These puppies are normally bred to supply a family member with a dog "just like Spike." People don't like to hear it, but what I normally try to encourage people who want to breed their pets to do before they breed them is -- go volunteer at the shelter. Go hold those dogs while the vet puts the drugs in their veins that will stop their heart. Look into their eyes as it's happening and then decide if you want to be responsible for putting that pup on the ground in the first place.

"HOW COULD YOU?"

Copyright © Jim Willis 2001, all rights reserved

When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housetraining took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them, especially their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.

I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being your dog to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now you have a new career opportunity in another city and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with "papers."

You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.

After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.