I am going to write three articles and then ask you, the
reader, to see if you agree with my starting hypothesis: It is easier to adopt a human child from a
foreign country than it is to adopt an animal from a rescue or shelter in the
United States. That seems like an
outrageous claim to make, no? And while
the value of the adoption is certainly not comparable from an ethical
standpoint, my premise is based on life experience over the past few years that
has nonetheless given me a few grey hairs.
I’m not just talking about dogs either – I will tell the tales of
feathers and fur – a dog story, a cat story, a bird story. But I will begin with a people story.
A few years ago within months of losing my first dog, I had
to take my newly adopted canine basket case to Doggie Boot camp. I first registered with the cheapest dog
trainers in the area for group training.
(Obviously I am going to omit names and company affiliations to protect
people. Although mostly it is just to
protect me because they should be blown-in.)
I showed up with my very nervous dog to a group training session and the
leader explained that we would get a certain amount of sessions for our
registration fee. … and a fanny pack.
Why the fanny pack? “To keep
treats in,” I was told. I approached the
leader privately after class and said to her that I was going to un-register
since our dog training philosophies were not the same. I want a dog who is going to obey me even
when I DON’T offer treats.* She assured me that even in the show ring dogs are
provided treats. She said she suggests
string cheese because you can hold it in your mouth so you have both hands free
to work with the dog. And I’m thinking,
there has to be a point where that gets slimy and yacky. She took it one step further and said, “Well,
when I train my dogs, I actually have the cheese in my mouth and spit it to them or dribble it down the front
of my shirt so they are always watching my face.” Yeah.
She really said that. (italics
added for emphasis) And I really called
her boss and got my money back.
My second choice for training the dog may have actually been
a charm school drop-out. Oh, for sure,
he was a fantastic dog trainer:
fantastically expensive and very successful in his profession**. In fact, I think he could train big cats for
the circus and do even better. But with
people, um, not so much. At the point of
dropping a large sum of cash (to my budget) for the task at hand – which absolutely
had to happen – I was I believe understandably edgy. And also my dog hated men… men who wore hats. And the trainer was … a man … who wore a
hat. One of the first things he said to
me was: “You have the order of the
universe screwed up. It goes: God, People, dogs. You have the last two flipped.” Charming.
Close the deal with a paying client by insulting or intimidating them to
their face.
I dropped the dog off for Day One of training with him
alone. Well, not really alone, since he
lived with a pack of dogs that are of various terrorist-related breeds. I handed him a plate of cookies I had baked
as a good will gesture – you know, like giving an apple to the teacher. He responded, “It is amazing how many women
drop off their dogs and give me cookies.”
Ten years ago I took that on the chin.
If it happened today when I as a midlife woman have “come into my powers
of wit & wile,” I would have replied, “Oh no, those aren’t for you. I’m taking them to work with me this morning
and I just needed you to hold them for a second.” Beautiful 20/20 hindsight – Oh, for a second
chance.
So how did the dog fare?
We worked our butts off for five weeks, she and I. She
would heel, sit, stay, not jump on the counter and in the long run became a
more well-adjusted dog. She is a great
dog for me. But as he pointed out, she
still will have issues because of whatever her first owner put her
through. After living with her for
almost a decade I think that is pretty much true; however, she has mellowed
considerably…. except for men with hats…. And I guess I don’t blame her. I now feel funny around men with hats. Her other faults are minor and I am at peace
overlooking them. In fact, I am afraid
of vacuum cleaners too. LOL.
Her Adoption: Case Study
#1
My first dog was from a shelter in Maricopa County,
Arizona. She was a beautiful white and
red cocker spaniel that I believe never was able to potty train in all the 17+
years of her life. When she was in her
final stages of mammary cancer she spent most of her days sleeping on the cool
tile floor in our bathroom. I began my
search for a bigger dog for more of a guarding function as well as
companionship. I went to a variety of
shelters over a period of two years in my search. One summer day, I passed through a kennel and
found this beautiful liver-colored Labrador mix weighing 35 pounds curled
quietly in a cage. I spoke to her. Her sad eyes reached right through to
me. I said to her, “come on, wag your
tail and give me something to go on here.”
She lifted the tail and let it flop slightly. Then she sadly rested her chin on her front
paws again. I told her: “I will rescue you. I will give you a great life.” And the drama began.
I approached the kennel girl and asked her to please take
the dog out and walk her down the long hallway away from me so I could see that
her hips worked properly. I squatted
down (it was over ten years ago, I could do that then without getting
stuck. LOL.) and watched her gait. At the end of the hallway, the girl dropped
the lead and I called the dog. She ran
into my arms. (insert tears here.) Then, bombshell #1: “You can’t have her today because she is
under observation since she just came in two days ago.” Fine.
I get that. I called them on
Monday morning to ask if I could get her.
“I’m sorry, there was a family that was interested in her
and we are waiting to hear from them.” I
agreed that, yes, she would be happy with a family environment and said I would
call back. Next day. I called back. “I’m sorry, there was a guy after the family
that was interested in her. Well, he’s
been through looking at a few dogs so I think he might just be kicking tires. Call back tomorrow.” I just put it out there to her: “Look, I can give this dog the Life of
Reilly. I feel like you are giving me
the run around.” She told me to call
again. Third phone call. “No.
He didn’t call us but she has bad diarrhea and we need to have her see
our vet.” Fourth phone call. “How is the dog doing?” Call back on Saturday morning. My gosh, I’m running out of calendar days for
all this jazz. Final phone call. “Um, we need you to bring in your other dog
to make sure they are compatible.” Are
you KIDDING ME???!! My other dog is in
the bathroom, DYING as we speak, and you want me to haul her all the way out
there???!!! “Yes. I’m sorry it’s policy.” So I scooped my precious Serena up and drove
her out there to meet this dog and they were fine. I think it was almost a nose-to-nose handing
off of the baton ceremony when they met.
And STILL the kennel staff would not let me take the dog home. Next day, and I swear I’m never calling them
again, I called and the girl cheerfully said, “Her stomach is all good now and
you can take her home today. We were
hoping that she would get better so you could have her.” I hung up the phone and cried. And that was before I realized she’d have to have training at Boot camp.
WHO does this to people? What
other organization takes upon itself the right to string a customer along while
at the same time flooding out the propaganda that you shouldn’t buy a brand-new,
home-made puppy from a breeder? Car
salesmen even know that selling you a USED car is always second-best to selling
a first-run vehicle. And they tell you
when they have one on the lot and it is “almost sold.” You don’t ever call back, and call back, and
call back. They want to close the deal
asap so you don’t walk.
*(footnote on dog training) I have one dog in the house that I have
treat-trained and she will sit in the garage until the cows come home unless I
offer her a treat to walk up the two steps into the kitchen. Initial point proven: do NOT treat-train dogs.
**(footnote on Dog Trainer
#2) I have actually referred quite a
handful of people to him to train their dogs – but with the caveat to not
expect gracious conversation. Cesar will
have no competition for his spot on tv.
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