Wordless Wednesday: Progress

Progress: Going from hiding UNDER the furniture to lounging ON the furniture

Progress: Not making eye contact to a full-on smile for the camera

Progress: The stairs...well, we're working on it. 

Rina's Friends

We've grown accustomed to spending our Saturdays cleaning up pee and poop at a suburban pet-supply store. We have a running joke at adoption day—what is it that most people do on Saturdays anyway? We've met so many great people with the rescue on these Saturdays. But we're not alone. Karina has made some good friends of her own species too!

I realize I sound like I'm anthropomorphizing, but what I'm trying to say is that Karina has made tremendous progress in her interactions with other dogs. When we first took her in back in February, we weren't even sure if she could come to adoption day with all of the other dogs around. But, unlike some dogs who get antsy attending adoption day week after week, Karina has only improved. Don't get me wrong—she'll never be the type of dog you'd want to set loose at a dog park, but she's shown signs of growth. When we take walks, we've practicted having her sit and ignore other dogs. Overtime, we've realized that she's not only good at ignoring, but can actually interact with smaller, non-yappy (i.e. non-threatening) dogs. Larger dogs will still set her off, but who knows what would happen with careful introductions? (She used to play for hours with an 80-lb. pit bull mix at her old foster home!)

And so, here are some of Rina's adoption-day friends:

Oh, Romeo! You are going to break some hearts! This adorable, 4-year-old Cavalier mix has been the subject of much attention over the past few weeks, but has yet to find his forever home. Karina and Romeo are still in their courtship phase—they were sniffing butts last Saturday. (Typical dog behavior, I know, but a very good step for Karina!)

 Meet Bo. He was pulled from a high-kill shelter. He's only a few months old and some sort of daschund mix (maybe?). On Saturday, Karina and Bo had a kissy fest! They were swapping some serious saliva! She'll be sad to know Bo won't be at adoption day this upcoming Saturday—he was adopted!

Magnus is one cute fellow, but he's not Rina's type. The feelings are mutual. Magnus isn't a huge fan of other dogs, so he goes nuts at the sight of Karina, and she reciprocates. (Sometimes it's the other way around.) Like Karina, Magnus has been with the rescue for awhile and is still looking for his people.

Sadly, Little Bo Peep hasn't been at adoption days of late because she is quite sick. It's possible she has distemper, but the rescue is currently running tests to get more information. There is a ChipIn to help pay for her vet care. I've pasted it below if you are interested. Please keep this poor girl in your thoughts until she gets back on her paws. SAD UPDATE FROM THE RESCUE: With an aching heart, I have to share that our little Bo Peep did not win her fight. Run free at the rainbow bridge, little girl. While you were only here a short time, you touched many hearts and were loved. 

The Art and Science of Home Visits

When I told my mom I was going on a home visit with Karina on Sunday, she recalled being on the receiving end of these rites of passage. A rescue came to "check us out" in process of adopting the family golden retriever, Abby. At the time, my mom thought the rescue’s procedures were a bit invasive.

This is my post to convince her (and others) otherwise.

Home visits usually happen after an application has been put in for a dog and we believe it could be a good match. The home visit is not a white-glove inspection. It’s not for the rescue’s volunteers to gossip about the size of your home or your interior decorating or how much money you make. After all, these things are of little value to us. In our own home, our couch has turned into a giant wee-wee pad, our comforter has been chewed to pieces, and our carpet has more vomit stains than I care to think about.

The point of a home visit is to make sure that the dog and the people will both be safe and comfortable in the living environment. We look to see that the dog interacts with all family members—human, canine, feline—in a positive way. We look to see that there are no utterly apparent dangers that could pose harm to the dog. For dogs with special requirements, such as a fenced-in yard, we make sure that their needs will be met.

On Sunday, I drove out to Pennsylvania to do a home visit with Karina and her old foster mom. The family was extremely nice; they were true "dog people." Karina, while a bit jumpy and curious, was a doll with all of the family members. When they let Karina out into the fenced-in back yard, I was so busy thinking about how much she would just love being able to run around for hours. Then her old foster mom, who has years of rescue experience, pointed to the vertical slits in the 4-foot fence. Because we know (and the family knew) that Karina has issues with other dogs, she suggested that the family ask their neighbors to let their dogs out so Karina could meet them through the fence.

Despite a mildly positive initial introduction, Karina went bonkers on one of the dogs. And the slits in the fence were so wide that the dogs could stick their muzzles through and potentially do damage to each other’s faces. And, being that it’s a 4-foot fence, we believe that Karina could also jump it in pursuit.

Before even meeting Karina at adoption day, we told the family she was dog selective. They said it would be fine because they are a one-dog family and don’t frequent the dog run. But at the home visit, the family saw the reality of her behaviors in their own background. With a teenager who would be letting Karina in and out most days, they didn’t feel comfortable putting their child, Karina, or the other dog in that situation. And I don’t blame them. The family decided not to adopt Karina.

And this is what the home visit is for. It’s the most accurate indicator of what life will be like if you adopt the dog.

It’s one thing to buy a cute puppy at the pet store; the employees could probably care less if your home has dangling electrical wires or if you're hoarding dozens of animals. All they likely care about is commission. But when you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and tears into a dog, as Karina’s old foster mom has done with her, you need to find a really good match. So while it may be tempting to jump at “any” home, you have to face the reality that not every home will be perfect for every dog.  

I’m 110% confident that family will find the perfect dog to fit into their home. Karina was just not it. 

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.

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.

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?