ADOPTED: Jack's 8 Months of Yeses and Nos

Jack's first day with us

No, said Jack's former owners in West Virginia. We don't want him.

Yes, said the shelter. We will take him.

No, said the shelter. We don't have room for him anymore. We must euthanize him.

Yes, said the rescue. We have a foster home who will take Jack.

Yes, said Jack's first adopters. We'd like to take him home.

No, said Jack's first adopters. We can't keep him.

Yes, said his fosters. We will take him back.

No, said his fosters. We can't keep him any more. He needs more exercise and is acting out.

Yes, said his new foster. I will take him.

Yes, said his new adopters. We know he has issues, but we've trained Border Collies before. We will work with him and even do agility training. We will take him home.

Lots and lots of PUP-DATES!

We've been dog-less for over a week. You forget how quiet and lonely (and clean and easy) life is without a dog. Sigh. Regardless, we need to take a break with wedding day less than month away. In the mean time, I have some updates on the dogs to share:

Chloe was adopted by a local couple. They are working on house training her—something we only put a dent in during her time with us.

Jagger's family sent along this photo.
He loves his duck!

Jagger's trial period ended and—drum roll, please—the couple decided to adopt him! During the trial, they both fell in love with him and witnessed some of his bad habits, including drinking from the toilet and guarding the home. They acknowledge he's a great dog, and they want to be the people to help him. They are hiring a trainer to work through the rough spots. Major kudos to them for giving this boy a chance.

Bella's people say she's doing well. I haven't heard much else, but sometimes no news is good news.

Karina/Winnie at work. Working
hard or hardly working?

Karina is settling in to her new life. Initially she had some separation-anxiety issues. This was probably due in part to the fact she goes to work every day with her person, so she is anxious when left alone. She's getting better week by week, so this is good news. Her person just loves her to pieces, as does the office staff where she works. The biggest news, I suppose, is Karina underwent a name change. (For real this time—no April Fool's joke.) She is now Winnie. [Side note: I miss her, but the neighborhood kids miss her more. They're always asking for our big black dog that likes to play soccer.]

Jack is still living with the same foster who did the switcheroo with us. We saw him a few weeks ago when we stopped by her house. He was in the backyard—jumping and running in circles like a hyena. Apparently he spends hours and hours doing this. There has been a fair amount of interest in him, but nothing has panned out so far. (Non-negotiables with Jack's adoption include having A LOT of space for him to run and dog experience so he doesn't take over your household.) I just found out he has a promising adopter who he'll meet next weekend. Please cross your paws that it works out for this handsome boy.

Failed Fosters (or, Are You Going to Keep This One?)

A few weeks ago, the rescue held a meeting for volunteers. We went around the table, introduced ourselves and our capacity within the organization. Many of the volunteers concluded their introductions with "... and I'm a failed foster." This means, of course, that they adopted one (or two, or three, or four, or five) of their foster dogs or cats.

One couple—who did not have a dog of their own—just recently "failed" after fostering dozens of dogs over the course of a year. Another couple "failed" and adopted a special-needs dog they had fostered for some time. The list goes on and on.

So it's not a surprise that I've been asked this question a lot: ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP THIS ONE? My co-workers keep asking. My friends keep asking. My mom keeps saying that she wants a real "grand dog" and not "grand foster dogs." Don't get them wrong; they all love that we foster. But they can't wait to see us fail.

The answer, for now, is no. We are not going to keep "this one" or any one any time soon. Here are a few reasons why:

1) We live in a condo complex where technically you're only supposed to have one dog. If we adopt a dog, then, according to the rules, we can not foster another dog. (However, many people break these rules. As long as the dogs don't cause a problem, no one complains. We could work around it.) With our schedules, it would also be a task for us to keep up with two dogs. I wouldn't count us out, but let's just say it wouldn't be easy. In essence, for every dog we adopt, that's one fewer space for a foster dog.

2) We have a busy summer coming up and will probably need to take a doggie break. We'll be gone most of the month of August, so we can't take responsibility for a dog then. (In my opinion, we need to hold off on "failing" until September; Jonathan thinks we should make it much longer.)

3) We haven't fostered a dog that would really make "failing" logical. All of our foster dogs can (and will) do better than living with us.

Wookiee, although very cute and lovable, was not our kind of dog. You know how dogs look like their owners? He didn't look like us. Plus, he was our first foster. You can't fail on the first one.

Jack, although smart and charming (at times), does not belong in a condo—by any stretch of the imagination.

And Karina, well, this girl could easily be my best friend. But, as a lab, she too deserves room to run. She also isn't great with all other dogs, which means fostering another dog would be a logistical nightmare.









In my heart of hearts, I know that one day, logic won't matter. The timing  might be off, but a dog might just come along and fit right in stride with us and our lives. (Who knows, he or she may even "look" like us.) At that point, we'll fail. We'll fail miserably. And everyone will celebrate.

The Switcheroo

Jack is a handful. He wants to be king of the world. There is no doubt about it. Over the last few weeks, he has taken it to the next level—being possessive over his bones (OK—acceptable), growling when I pet him (what?), and guarding our bedroom (I just want to sleep!).  Then, at adoption days, he has been less-than-friendly to some people who approach and pet him. [If you recall, these are some of the behaviors that the adopters noted.]

What happened to the gregarious dog that we knew? Surely he wasn't feeling well and was cranky. So we took him to the vet. Was it a thyroid problem or Lyme or something else? Probably not. He showed no signs of lethargy or loss of appetite. Was it a simple ear infection or intestinal parasite? Nope, not that either. What was it?

I'm convinced it's us—his foster people, but specifically me. Jack is Jonathan's sidekick, his partner in crime. The vet pointed out that we both need to be equally firm and in charge. We should do our equal shares of working with him, feeding him, and walking him. Well, therein lies the problem. Part of the deal for continuing to foster through this hell-ish semester of grad school was that Jonathan would take over much of the day-to-day responsibilities. I spend so much time at work, in class, commuting, and doing school work that taking the dog for an extra walk at night has just become impossible.

Maybe it's our fault for even agreeing to take him in the first place. A Border Collie in a condo? We thought it would be fine for a week or two. If we had ever imagined it would be 3 months, then we might have said no.

The last straw came on Saturday. A very nice couple with lots of Border-Collie experience came to adoption day with the hopes of adopting Jack. That glimmer of hope quickly vanished when Jack growled and barked every time the couple approached him. I knew these people would be great with him because they kept trying. They approached different ways, with different treats, in different locations. But it didn't matter. Jack wanted nothing to do with them.

With time, resources, and some space to run, we might be able to work with this dog. We see his potential. But right now, we just can't do that. We can't give him what he needs.

So we asked another foster with more behavioral experience and a big backyard if we could do a "switcheroo." She kindly (very, very kindly) agreed. On Sunday, we went to her house, dropped off Jack, and picked up her Karina. (More on Karina later.) We know that the change of environments is stressful for the dogs, but we hope that the situation will be better in the long run.

I cried as we drove away. We always joke about "foster failures"—those that end up adopting their fosters. But here, I felt like a failure for giving up on a dog that I loved. His needs are just beyond us; he has shown us what we still need to learn.

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. 

Jack's Outtakes

As we prepare to bid adieu to Jack on Tuesday, I thought we'd take a look back at our time together. (Almost 2 months—can you believe it?) Here are some photos that didn't make it on to the blog or Facebook. They may not be the clearest or brightest, but they surely tell Jack's story from dog of the underworld to pampered pet.

We took Jack to the park on his first day with us. We gave him treats, which he hid on the sides of his mouth, then dug a hole in which to bury them. It took him several weeks to realize that there was no need to hide food for a rainy day. 

It also took him a few weeks to get over his fear of stairs. Now we can't keep him off them!

Jack really got into the Christmas spirit. 

And, a few weeks in, he really nestled a place into our lives. 

Maybe too much nestling. Paws off my fiancé, Jack!

We can only hope that this loving dog who found his way into our lives will bring as much joy to his forever family as he has brought to us.

Jack Hits the Jack-pot.... Again!

On December 1, Kim told you that I, Jack the Great, won the proverbial doggie lottery when I was rescued from an over-crowded shelter. Believe it or not, a month and a half later, I've hit the jackpot... again! What are the chances of that?

Here's how it happened: I went to visit a super nice family today. We went for a walk with their dog, played at the park, played some more in their backyard, then played even more with toys in their house. They gave me treats and pats and then—I hope you're sitting down—they said they want to adopt me!

They're talking about how they want to take me for runs and on hikes and even on a camping trip this summer. I just can't contain my excitement!

And my future big brother. Wow—I've got big paws to grow into! He's an awesome guy and will be a great role model for me. He's even a certified therapy dog who has worked with children with autism. Take a look. Don't we look handsome together?

I'm going to chill at Kim and Jonathan's place for another week, then I'll go to my new home. I just can't wait! This family is all I could ever ask for.  I am so incredibly thankful they came along (...and so are Kim, Jonathan, and the volunteers from the rescue.)

Home Visit Advice?

Great news—a wonderful family has expressed interest in adopting Jack! They came to meet him at adoption day yesterday, along with their current border collie.

We're scheduled to do a home visit tomorrow to see how Jack and the other dog get along at the potential adopter's house. We have limited insight as to how Jack does with other dogs since he's an "only dog" at our place. The shelter told us that he's good with all dogs, but he has sometimes been barky with other dogs at adoption days. It's not really an authentic environment to judge behavior—on leash with dozens of other dogs barking, people all around, etc.

Some of the volunteers at the rescue gave us good advice for the home visit. Have the dogs meet on neutral territory like the sidewalk. Then take the dogs to the backyard before letting them off leash to see how they do together. The last step should be going in to the house.

Do you have any more advice for home visits? We think this family would be a great fit for him, so we want him to succeed!

Puppies!

We made the decision early on not foster puppies. We’re simply not home enough to adequately care for them. I also appreciate the stability and relative predictability of an adult dog.

But don't let this fool you—I go goo-goo ga-ga over puppies. The rescue just took in LOTS of puppies, many of whom will be at adoption day tomorrow. Take a look at Prancer, Comet, and Dancer. Amy, the foster mom to Prancer and Comet, says she's been very busy with these two pup-squeaks (and, not to mention, her own adult Boxer). She says Comet is full of puppy playfulness and loves to hide under bed. Prancer loves belly rubs and attention.

Could Jack not be their much larger litter mate? It's quite possible I brought home a wicked case of Clifford syndrome...

So what do you think: Should we put Jack in the puppy pen at adoption day, call him Blitzen, and see if anyone bites at our over-sized puppy?

Comet

Dancer

Progress and Potential

What kind of progress have you made in the last 5 weeks?  Have you finished a semester at school or a project at work? Have you made and stuck to a New Year’s resolution?

Unless you’ve accomplished a herculean feat, it’s safe to say Jack has put us all to shame…collectively.

Five weeks ago, he came to us matted and shy. He cowered in a corner as we brushed out clumps and clumps of dead hair. He scampered away from doors and froze and whimpered at the sights of stairs. He didn’t know where to do his business and wanted nothing to do with a crate. He didn’t even know how to eat a bone—only how to hide it for future use. He neither knew commands nor understood the concept of walking on a leash.  

But boy, he had a willingness to learn and please.

And so he has.

Today, Jack has a beautiful and healthy coat. He’s gregarious and loving with every person he meets. He pushes his way through doors  and sprints up and down the stairs just for the hell of it. He’s both house trained and crate trained.  He chews on bones instead of hiding them. He knows sit, stay, down, and shake and walks politely on a leash. At adoption day this afternoon, a five-year-old boy had Jack responding to commands, and two third-grade girls walked him around the store.

He’s a dog that’s just brimming with trainability potential. In fact, he vaguely reminds me of a border-collie mix named Ollie from this episode of DogTown. Sherry, the trainer, proves that it’s possible to train homeless mutts, such as Ollie, in important service capacities like search and rescue.

We've taken Jack this far; it’s only a matter of time before his forever family comes along and helps him fulfill that potential.

Okay, so we still need to work on some eye-mouth coordination.

The Stresses of Adoption Day

Adoption Day is exciting, disappointing, educational, and stressful all at the same time.

Every Saturday, we spend 5 hours at the local Petco with the rescue group. It’s a chance for potential adopters to meet the animals, plus it allows the organization the opportunity to spread information about the humane treatment of animals. It’s so important.

But it’s also stressful. Consider the stressors on the animals. Let’s use dear Jack as an example:

“Oh, car. You want me to get in the car? I barfed in there once, and I don’t want to have to do it again.  Oh well, let’s give it another try. ::hop:: Yeah, yeah. I’m okay back here, Foster Mom. Stop asking if I barfed. Just keep your eyes on the road.

Hey, I remember this place. It’s where the pets go! Huh? Doh! That sliding door gets me every time. So many smells in here. ::sniff, sniff:: Dogs, cats, ferrets, birds, rawhides… RAWHIDES!

Oooh, people are walking through that sliding door. Come pet me, pick me, love me! Oooh, now dogs are coming to sniff me ::ruff, ruff::, little girls are coming to strangle me, and little boys are pulling my ears. Help! Okay, I’m tired. I need some peace and quiet. Can we get back in the car yet, Foster Mom?”

It’s equally as stressful on us humans, too.

First thing in the morning, we pack up Jack’s things that the rescue has given us for him. This must be how contenders on reality TV feel when they have to pack their belongings on the chance they’ll get voted off the proverbial island. On the whim that he gets adopted out that day, I always want to make sure he’ll everything he needs.

[SIDEBAR: These same-day adoptions only happen in rare and special circumstances. Usually, over teh course of several days, references have to be checked and a home visit has to be made. But I pack his bag just in case because of what happened when Wookiee was unexpectedly adopted out that fateful day.]

It’s obviously not just the physical act of packing that’s stressful. It’s not knowing whether or not this animal, who has become engrained in your family and in your life, will be coming home with you in a few hours. 

Once we’re there, it’s always great to see the other dogs. Jack is VERY excited to see them too and tends to bark for their attention [constantly], so we try to keep a reasonable distance.

Then, of course, there are the people who walk through the sliding doors. I always look in anticipation, not knowing if Jack’s family may be walking right on through. Of course, Jack wants to greet each and every one of them personally.  (My back is still aching as a result.) After we’ve spent weeks trying to teach him not to jump, he jumps into the arms of these people, who praise it thinking it’s the cutest thing ever. Granted, it is cute. It’s just not cute when he does it 24/7.

As people approach, we field questions about Jack. Our answers, in order of frequency from greatest to least:

1) He’s a border-collie mix.

2) He’s about 3-4 years old. 

3) He’s neutered.

4) He’s basically housetrained, but he has marked new places on occasion.

5) Yes, he would have otherwise been put to sleep. Yes, a perfectly good dog like him.

6) Yes, he’s been here the past few weeks. No, he didn’t get adopted yet.

7) No, he won’t bite you.

8) Yes, he needs a lot of exercise. He loves playing. He would love agility training.

9) How much does he cost? There's no price tag you could really put on this pooch. The rescue has an adoption fee, which is a tax-deductible donation. It covers his transport, spaying, other medical needs, food, and so on.

10) An application? Huh? You might want to fill out an application for him? Right over here. Oh, you want the puppies instead? Oh, okay—right over there. Thank you for adopting.

For a month now, we’ve left adoption day through the sliding dogs with Jack in tow. We usually come home—all 3 of us—and pass out. The very secret and selfish part of me (you know, the part that shares all of my thoughts with you here) is happy because I know I have another week with this amazing creature. The other part is very disappointed that no one saw what a beautiful animal he is.

It’s a slow time for adoptions now, as people come off the holidays and the deep cold sets in. But we’ll pack our bags again next Saturday and get ready for whatever surprises those sliding doors might bring for all of us. 

A Christmas Update From Jack

Christmas was all it's cracked up to be... and more. Kim and Jonathan spoiled me silly! (Maybe it's because they decided to put up a tree last minute, and I knew not to pee on it. They really underestimate my intelligence.)











I loved opening up all my treats....

... and I even got a new toy! It didn't take me long to realize that I just have to roll it over for treats to come out.

Jonathan got two doggie movies for us to watch—Homeward Bound and Benji. Something about dogs named Chance and Wookiee? I'm not sure what that's all about.

Of course, there are two things I didn't get for Christmas that I still want—sheep to herd and a loving family to adopt me. Don't get me wrong, I love Kim and Jonathan's place. But it's small, and there's no backyard. Here's to hoping Santa is on his way with those two things. Merry Christmas, everybody!

Give a Dog a Bone

We think Jack is still in West Virginia stray survival mode. You see, every time we give him a bone or treat (with the exception of hot dogs), he must "hide" it somewhere in the house. This is especially true of rawhide bones. You know, the ones he's supposed to be gnawing at in order to get rid of the tartar on his teeth.

Here's how it works: He scouts out the house. He finds a spot to hide the bone, like under a piece of furniture or in a corner behind an object. He "digs" a hole. He places the bone in the hole. Then he covers it up with "dirt" using his nose. Some of the places we've found his hidden bones are pretty darn creative. And we still have yet to find some other ones!

Here he is at work hiding a bone under our love seat. (It's covered with a bed sheet because he has tried to urinate on said love seat one too many times.)

Does anyone else have a dog that does this? As cute as it is (and I'd hate to squelch his ingenuity), I do want him to just lie down and chew on a bone. Is that too much to ask of a dog?

On Christmas Trees and Housebreaking

Well, Jack’s fur-ever family did not walk through the doors of Petco on Saturday, but he was a very good boy (aside from the barking at and humping of other dogs.) He greeted people as they entered the store; his giant bear hugs and big brown eyes convinced them to donate money to the organization.  In some cases, his paws literally found themselves right in women’s purses!

Since Jack will be with us for another week or more, I’ve made the executive decision not to put up a Christmas tree this year. You see, we’ve spent this past week trying to train Jack not to do his business in the house. The first few days with us, he lifted his leg on everything in sight. As soon as he did, we took him right outside to the oak tree to show him, “This is where you do your business.” He caught on to that message quickly. He now pees on every tree on every walk every day of the week. Plus, we haven’t had any accidents in the past few days. (Cross your paws.)

So putting up a Christmas tree seems like it might be confusing. It’s just too tempting of a target, and I’ve spent way too much money on Nature’s Miracle already to risk it.

Plus, the only thing I want for Christmas this year doesn’t fit under a Christmas tree—a loving family with a big old house for our little Jack to call home.

Jack in Training

Lately I’ve been feeling like we’re preparing for the Adoption Olympics. With just 7 days in between taking in Jack and the first adoption day, there's a lot of work to do in a short amount of time. It’s not an easy task with both of us working full time and then some, grad school, and planning a wedding.

First come the necessities—making sure Jack is healthy, clean, and looking at his/her best. We’ve spent hours (literally hours) raking out mats and dreadlocks from his fur. 

And then, of course, there’s the actual training.  We’d love to say we put a dent in house breaking and crate training, but anyone who has ever had a dog knows that these things take time. Four paws forward, two paws back. The hardest training task will be to transform Jumping Jack into just Jack. He seems to love people so much that he wants to give everyone a giant bear hug. (But I’m sure he told you that in his post over the weekend.) While many people find this endearing, it may scare off some potential adopters, especially those with younger kids.

Once we’ve gotten past the basic issues, I’d love to be able to show off some tricks. A dog that can sit and shake will surely win over hearts, right? Well, we’re about 75% there.

The final step is the pep talk. It goes something like this. "Jack-O-Lantern, you have to be on your best behavior for people to adopt you. You have to smile and wag your tail and look deep into their souls with those big brown eyes, ok? Can you do that?” Wag, wag, wag. I think he gets it.

Jack will be up for adoption through Cattitude starting Saturday, December 11. Come meet him at the Piscataway Petco from 11am to 4pm.  Here are some other new dogs that will be up for adoption: Willow, Orion, and Brownie. As you can see, there's stiff competition, but Jack is a pretty competitive guy, and he’s out to win the Adoption Olympics.

From the Desk of Jack

Hello everyone,

Let me introduce myself. My name is Jack, though my human companions have taken a liking to any nickname that involves "Jack"—Blackjack, Jack-in-the-Box, Jackson, Jackal, Jackie, etc. I can assure you, without a doubt, that my name is just Jack.

I decided to hijack (get it... hi-JACK?) Kim's computer and write this entry myself. You see, I'm so smart that I know I'll write a better blog post than those depressing ones Kim writes.

So, allow me to tell you more about myself. The vet says I'm about 3 years old. But this comes from the guy who took away my manhood this week. I don't trust him and neither should you; I'm probably a year older or younger than that. I don't keep track of those sorts of trifling things. What is age anyway?

Among my hobbies are greeting people with giant bear hugs, burying treats that humans give me, and playing fetch. I would love for my adoptive family to take me to training and agility classes. If I don’t say so myself, I would ROCK that.

My best features are my intelligence (I learned how to “sit” on the second try!), my beautiful brown eyes, and my cookies-and-cream paws. I get along with all sorts of dogs and people. But if there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s cats. They scare the heck out of me creeping and crawling all around then sneaking up on you. But who knows—maybe I could get used to it.

Alright, I think it’s time to go outside and herd some cars. Feel free to leave me messages, and I’ll write back as soon as I can.

Paws up!

Jack

The Underworld

Beneath the world of pampered pets live millions of unfortunate dogs—in shelters, in alleyways, and worse. I’ve come to call it “the underworld.” They'll know nothing this season of photos with "Santa Paws" or over-sized stockings stuffed with rawhide bones. I’ve been grappling with the sheer number of dogs who live far, far away from the well cared for pets that we meet in people’s home and see walking down the street.

It has been my most depressing revelation thus far.

The Humane Society of the United States estimates that 6-8 million cats and dogs enter shelters each year. While about half of these animals are adopted, the other 3 to 4 million are euthanized. Even on the low end of that spectrum, 8,219 cats and dogs are put down every day, and their only crime was being born. Black dogs and breeds like pit bulls have disproportionately high euthanasia rates because of the unfair stereotypes placed on them as aggressive dogs.

It’s especially a problem in the American South. Because of economic conditions, many dog owners do not spay/neuter their pets. As one volunteer told me, many families have to choose between putting food on the table and fixing their dogs.

There is the potential for one female dog and her young to produce 67,000 dogs over a six-year period. The offspring often end up in local shelters where adoption rates are very low because people cannot afford the cost of pet ownership. These shelters are brimming with dogs that might be highly adoptable in other parts of the country. Instead, the dogs are sentenced to death to make room for more dogs coming in.

State laws regulate euthanasia. Some states require a dose of sodium pentobarbital—the same injection that a caring veterinarian would administer to the family pet whose suffering can no longer be justified. The animal dies a quick and humane death. However, for many shelters with little funding, it’s an expensive "option."

In states that allow for other means of euthanasia, some animals are put down using carbon monoxide. That’s the politically-correct way of saying “gas chamber." It’s as bad as it sounds—ten times over.

Where does this take me? It takes me to a black-and-white collie mix named Jack who won the proverbial West-Virginia doggie lottery this week. He was set to be euthanized on Tuesday. But when shelter volunteers pleaded for help, the organization we’re fostering with decided to rescue him. He’ll be part of the transport up to New Jersey this week. In doing so, he'll cross the border from dog of the underworld to pampered pet. When he arrives late Saturday night, we’ll have a cozy bed and a nutritious meal waiting for him in our home.

Yes, he’s only one dog, and yes, 8,218 other cats and dogs were likely euthanized that day. But to the future family who adopts Jack, that one dog will mean all the world.