Mind If I Crash Here Tonight?

Lucky, Our Overnight Guest

Somehow an 85-pound yellow lab-horse mix ended up in our living room last night. It might sound as if he hitch-hiked his way up I-95, knocked on our door, and asked, "Hey guys, mind if I crash here tonight? I hear you like dogs." And, while opening the door, we said, "Sure, Lucky, make yourself at home." But the truth is that it was a little more planned than that.

The dogs with our rescue come primarily from shelters in Virginia, West Virginia, and North Carolina with the help of a system called Rural Shelter Transports. (In addition to their Facebook page I just linked to, they also have a blog.) I've referred to this process before as the doggie underground railroad.

Here's how it works: Rescues groups commit to pulling certain dogs from shelters in these areas. The dogs just need to hitch a ride. Starting on Saturday morning, volunteers near the shelters drive the dogs about an hour north. They pull over to a rest stop where more volunteers take the dogs and drive them another hour north. These exchanges happen many times over up the East Coast. At different points in the ride, dogs are taken off the transport and are taken into their receiving rescues by volunteers who are waiting at the assigned rest stops.

With the cooperation of MANY people, thousands of dogs are pulled from shelters and sent to rescues each year. To get an idea of just how many people are involved and the logistics behind it, check out this week's "run sheet," as they call it. You'll see how dogs come on and off at given points.

The entire length of this weekend's transport from Lexington, VA to Worcester, MA couldn't be done in one day. (Imagine driving this route yourself and stopping every hour. And imagine the stresses on the animals.) The mid-way stopping point on Saturday night was our exit off the Turnpike. When the transport reached our area, the volunteers pulled over and handed off some animals to receiving rescues. For instance, our rescue took in several dogs at this rest stop. These dogs were then immediately given to their foster homes. But what about the dogs who still have miles to go in the journeys? Well, they just need a place to crash for the night.

Lucky's Luggage

When we volunteered to take a dog last night, we didn't imagine we'd get an 85-pound beast. But it didn't matter how much he weighed. Lucky was a gentle soul and a kind house guest. We could tell someone had taken good care of him in Virginia; he came with his own luggage bag filled with a blankie and stuffed animals. He even knew how to sit and lie down on command! We gave him some dinner, took him for a walk, and put him to bed. At 9am this morning, we took him back to the rest stop where more volunteers were waiting to continue his journey. According to the run list, he should be well on his way to Massachusetts by now. We'd wish him good luck, but we think he has enough of that to go around. :)

Please find Rural Shelter Transports on Facebook and "like" them. They can always use volunteers to drive one leg of the trip or take an overnight guest. It's really a small time commitment, but it's one of those reminders that every little bit counts.

Mocha's Happy Tale

Koko (all black) and Mocha (brown and black)

A few weeks ago, another foster with the rescue took in three-month-old Chow Chow mix puppies named Mocha and Koko. Although the sisters were side-lined with kennel cough for a week, they made their appearance at adoption day today.

And thank goodness they did. Their timing couldn't have been better.

About 3 or 4 weeks ago, our next-door neighbors had to put their Chow Chow to sleep. Poor George had a variety of health problems associated with old age. At 110 pounds, he made the case for why rules about dog size limits in condos are pretty silly. (The 20-pound beagle upstairs makes more noise in one hour than George did in his lifetime.)

Mocha, our new puppy neighbor

We didn't know if our neighbors would be ready for a new dog... until they came knocking on our door this week. They said they had been looking online for another Chow. Their house was too lonely without one. They found breed-specific rescues in other regions of the country and a breeder in Canada. Then they checked Petfinder and saw that Mocha and Koko were right in their backyard. Better yet, when they clicked on the rescue's website, they saw that Jack was their proverbial foster brother. They confessed they weren't even sure they were ready, but when they saw Jack's picture's right next to Mocha and Koko's, they knew it was fate.

They came to adoption day today, fell in love with Mocha, and took her home. So while Jack didn't find his forever home this weekend, he helped Mocha find hers. We couldn't be happier!

Canine Stereotyping?

Last summer, Jonathan and I spent more hours than I'd care to count watching episodes of Dogs 101. After awhile, I began to think that the phrase "breed characteristics" was the canine equivalent of "stereotyping." I thought that people might buy into these characteristics a little too much, and dogs lived up to their self-fulfilling prophesies as a result.

But breed characteristics are the real deal. And, for all of the biological reasons involved, they ought to be. 

Before we took Jack in, I knew very little about Border-Collie characteristics. In fact, I knew only what I saw on Dogs 101. Looking back at this episode now, I see that Jack, who is part Border Collie, part who-knows-what, has lived up to every one of these characteristics—good and bad. When I saw this episode during the summer, I remember thinking I never wanted one of those menaces. Now all I want is a farm full of them. 

Life Lesson #1: Flexibility (or, Jack Comes Back)

I schedule every minute of my day. It makes me a highly effective worker. It makes me someone you can count on. It also makes me stubborn and inflexible. Flexibility is my not my forte.

We found out late last week that Sable would not be joining us. The vet needs to keep her in West Virginia to work with her some more. As you could imagine, this threw me off a bit. I had a big sticky note with my weekend plans written on it—hour by hour—and picking up Sable was penciled it at 8pm Saturday. But now that wasn’t going to happen. After a few minutes of disappointment, I realized this was probably a positive turn of events. I reasoned that I’d have more time to do the mounds of work I’m currently buried under. Change is good. Be flexible, I told myself, before making a new schedule.

And, within a matter of hours, we got word that the arrangement with Jack and his new family wasn’t working out. So Jack came back to us on Sunday afternoon. What was the first thing I did? I ripped up my schedule into a million pieces.

Huh? Me? What did I do?

To answer your question, yes, I'm disappointed that it didn’t work out. All along we felt like Jack needed a super active family to keep him busy. But it sounds like it might have been too much stimuli for him. The family said he was fixated on chasing squirrels and birds, so much so that he jumped their fence. (This doesn’t surprise me in the least. A dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do, right?) His reactions to dogs were mixed. He got along fine with the family’s other dog, albeit with one or two scuffles over treats, but barked at other dogs in the neighborhood. Again, this is pretty consistent with what we’ve seen at adoption day. His reactions to people completely surprised me, though. The family told us he barked at people on walks and toward visitors in their home. I have not seen anything but love and affection from this dog at adoption day or when we’ve had visitors in to our home. I mean, he can be bossy with us by barking for food or attention or telling us he doesn’t want to do something, but he has never crossed the line to aggression.

So what do you think happened? My trusted dog adviser Amanda thinks these reactions were based out of fear. The new stimuli were too much to take in at once—living with a new dog and family, strange people and dogs approaching him, etc. And that makes sense. It took us several weeks for him to get over his fear of stairs alone. What’s unknown is scary, and when he's scared, he tries to defend himself. Plus, we’ve had him in very structured, predictable environments (save for adoption day) where we’ve kept him on a short leash—figuratively and literally. Maybe this was just overload. 

For those to subscribe to the “pack philosophy,” which trusted dog adviser Amanda says is a bunch of bologna: Was he establishing himself as leader of the pack? (He had nothing but love and kisses for the family members.) Was he trying to find his role and, being that he has a dominant personality, was he showing the family that he would take charge of protecting them?

This experience has served as a reminder that as far as Jack has come, he still has a way to go from being the perfect pet. He needs work, but doesn’t any dog? We’ll try to find some rewarding and less-than-stressful ways to expose him to new experiences. I’ll just have to pencil it into my schedule.

The Short-Lived Victory Dance

We had a grand total of 43 minutes to celebrate after Jack's new family told us they wanted to adopt him.  In those 43 minutes, we danced, we laughed, and we cried. We spent nearly two months working with a dog who, by all accounts, was as good as dead, and matched him up with the absolutely perfect family who will treat him like a king for life. We felt so accomplished—so proud of the partnership between the rescue, ourselves, the family, and Jack.

Then we got an email with the subject line, "Your Next Foster." It began with the qualifier, "only if you say yes." This email was a disheartening reminder—there are millions of Jacks out there. 

But for us, it's one dog at a time. It's one "yes" at a time. And how couldn't we say yes to this face?

Meet Sable. She was found on the side of a road, pregnant, with a broken pelvis after being hit by a car. When a shelter in West Virginia wanted to put her to sleep, a vet stepped in and took Sable into her own home. Once there, Sable gave birth to 6 pups, only one of whom survived. That one pup has since been adopted out; now it's Sable's turn. She's scheduled to join us on Saturday night.

In the mean time, we have a few days off from life with a dog. That means an extra 30 minutes of sleep in the morning, five fewer walks in the freezing cold, and one quiet and lonely household.

Love That Dog

This must be how parents feel. They have their first child and love that child more than they thought their hearts were capable of loving. They have a second child and worry if it’s possible to make room in their hearts to love that child as much as the first. But their hearts grow wider and they do. (Or, in the case of my own parents, they love that second child even more than the first. I kid, Mom and Dad, I kid.) In some cases, the third or fourth (or even more) come along. And their hearts grow and grow.

I’ve found myself in that position. (I realize, of course, that children are not dogs and vice versa.) With Wookiee, it was love at first sight. I fell head-over-heels in love with that fur ball. I was convinced that he was the physical manifestation of love. [And we only had him for one week!] I doubted that another foster dog would come along that I could love like that.

But he did. He was black and white and fuzzy all over, and his name was Jack. And although I’ve called him lots of different variations of that name, I actually called him Boo Bear in our quiet hours. It took a little longer for me to love that dog—to trust each other and to grow accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies. It was the logical type of bond that grows slow and deep. I love that dog.

For those of you who live in the world of children’s literature like I do, you probably know Sharon Creech’s book, Love That Dog. It's a series of poems written by a boy who happens to be named Jack. When Jack's teacher tells him to write a poem about a pet, he writes,

So much depends

upon

a blue car splatted with mud

speeding down the road.

As Jack grows as a poet throughout the school year, he opens up about the loss of his dog, Sky, and finds solace in his writing. The book ends up with his poem, Love That Dog.

Love that dog

like a bird loves to fly

I said I love that dog

like a bird loves to fly

Love to call him in the morning

love to call him

“Hey there, Sky.”

This love story is not too different from another one I know by heart.

When Jack's forever family picks him up tomorrow, they'll begin to write their own love story together. And we are so grateful to have been part of it. 

Book Review: The Lost Dogs

I have referred to The Lost Dogs in this blog before, but I haven't done it nearly enough justice. Written by Sports Illustrated writer Jim Gorant, The Lost Dogs documents the recovery and rehabilitation of the dogs from the Michael Vick dogfighting case.

This is not a canned "Marley and Me" tale.

This is not a mindless, beach read.

This is not an easy read by any means. In fact, I had to put it down one night because I was literally nauseous.

Above all else, this is a MUST read. It's one that will likely make you question our celebrity-worshipping culture, our justice system, and the stereotypes against pit bulls. More over, it will make you believe in the resilient spirit of animals and the people who work to save their lives on a daily basis.

Within this book you'll find layers and layers of stories—from the details of Vick's dogfighting operation to the heart-wrencing tales of the dogs and their progress. For an overview of some of these stories, watch this PBS segment called, "The Dogs Are Alright."

Watch the full episode. See more Need To Know.

The story that struck me the most was that of Cris Cohen, featured in the above video, who fostered a number of the Vick dogs.

Cohen devoted himself wholeheartedly to rehabilitating one dog aptly named Jonny Justice. Jonny made a lot of progress in Cohen’s care and was moved on to another foster family so that Cohen could work with a more troubled dog from the Vick case. But Cohen struggled when Jonny left.

            “Every time he [Cohen] took on a foster he gave a piece of himself away. It was impossible to do what he did without forming a close bond with the dog. The animal itself was less accepting of training if it didn’t feel a certain closeness and eagerness to please the trainer. In the past, that bond had always faded over time for Cohen. He figured the same thing would happen with Jonny, but it wasn’t. Just the opposite. He felt like he missed Jonny more and more as time went by…

He knew that taking in a second dog full-time meant the end of fostering… He would say, 'Every one I keep is one more that ends up dying in the shelter.' In other words, giving up one gave him the opportunity to save another. Giving up those opportunities to help was itself hard for him to accept.”

Luckily, Cohen found a way to adopt Jonny and still foster another dog simultaneously. In my opinion, it's people like him who deserve the NFL's MVP award this year.

On the day that I finished this book, I did two things. First, I went to the local rescue group and signed up to foster. I knew that, like Cohen said, it would mean giving away a piece of myself. And I liked that idea.

Second, I emailed the author to thank him for sharing this story and to ask for some additional information. I know that the teens who read magazines I write for need to hear this story. They literally NEED to hear it. Some of them may be thinking about dogfighting or, worse yet, may have been involved in dogfighting. Equally as important, some of them are our next generation of Cris Cohens. They need to know that this work matters. It really matters.

 If you haven’t read this book yet, please go buy yourself a copy, download the Kindle edition, listen to the audio book, or find it in your local library. Hell, I'll even lend you my own copy. But I want it back, because it's one of those staples that will remain on my bookshelf for a long, long time.