The following is a blog I posted on myspace about Jackie's transport and the one year anniversary of the final day in my cross-country tour.
August 7th, 2007 my journey across the states ended when I dropped off Bogey at the San Diego Humane Society. But I didn't feel different or changed from the journey. Perhaps because even though the long haul drive had ended, the journey didn't end, nor will it ever.
So I find it only fitting that one year later on August 7th, 2008 after seeing a posting about a dog in need, I drove to the local Animal Shelter and snatched a dog away from Death's Door.
A couple had seen Jackie, an 11 month old German Shepard according to the shelter website, and could see in her amber eyes that her life should not be snuffed out just because her previous owner couldn't keep her. They offered a donation to any rescue who would take her. A Jindo rescue did just that--since she wasn't just German Shepard, but clearly Jindo as well. The dog was blessed, as shortly after the rescue laid claim to her, an adopter sealed the deal. The adopter was perfect, and Jackie would have another Jindo to play with in their home. The only problem was the adopter was a wee bit far away, even for Los Angeles standards. So that's where I came in.
The adopter offered to drive half way to LA for the little girl, so I offered to drive the rest of the way to meet her. But as we were starting the planning, Jackie was pulled from the adoption website and red-listed. Red listed: meaning she's next in line to be put down given the need. So we needed to get her out now.
Thanks to numerous people who cared for this little canine who may never have even met her, it was finally arranged. And so there I was, chauffeur to the canine, offering not just my services but my place as a bed and breakfast until this morning. (Thank you SAG for the de facto strike--I never would have been able to help if the town wasn't in shut down mode till you all decide how much money you deserve)
When the contact at the shelter brought out Jackie I was a little taken back. I knew she was underweight, but I could see her hip bones jutting out an inch from her back and saw the ripples of her ribs along her side. Jackie shrieked bloody murder when the woman simply touched her--and she really was just touching her. If you didn't see her, you would have thought she was stabbing her repeatedly. I could understand how she ended up on the Red List. She was terrified, and terrified dogs simply don't get adopted. Aside from that, adopting out a dog who bites, nips, or isn't exceptionally tolerant, can be a liability. I even had to sign a waiver saying I wouldn't sue the city knowing that Jackie was a "fear biter."
After handling with kid gloves and coming to the conclusion that the harness was simply not going on her, I had to take the chance and let her ride not buckled in. I didn't push her, not knowing if her shrieking and biting was due to actual pain or just fear of potential pain. In the past three weeks she had been in two shelters, poked, prodded, her spay scars examined, and who knows what else. I believe the workers and vets who handled her were as kind and gentle as possible, but given her situation, Jackie was simply scared out of her wits and tired of being violated.
Getting a dog out of a shelter is only the first step. Getting the shelter out of the dog is a much more arduous process. It takes time, patience, and love. Even though I usually lack the middle virtue, when it comes to a scared animal, I have an unending supply, leaving none for anyone or anything else.
By evening, she allowed me to put the harness on her, but I couldn't adjust it without a shriek and nip. She never did actually bite me; just warn me with a snap--which actually is perfectly acceptable dog etiquette. They can't say, "Stop it!" or "Fuck off!"--so they use their teeth. And I heed the warning.
In only 24 hours, Jackie transformed from the terrified shelter dog, tail tucked beneath her body so far I didn't think I could find it, to a smiling canine tail up and wagging and ears alert. Last night we even rough-housed on the living room floor together. She finally trusted me.
This morning we drove the three hours north to meet her new mom. We spent almost an hour together, allowing Jackie to get used to her and to even learn Lie Down, which my friend began teaching her the other day. After some dismay from Jackie on having to hop into the back of the car, I got her enter another way and she and I parted ways. The adopter even gave me a gift card, which I was not expecting. I thanked her and told her it wasn't necessary. But she insisted, so I humbly accepted.
After they drove off to Jackie's new life together, I began talking to a woman truck driver who was out walking her three dogs. I asked if they were all hers. Then I told her what I was doing and about Operation Roger, the trucker organization that transports dogs for rescues across the country. She had not heard of such thing and said she would look it up.
After chatting I drove across the street to fill up my tank. When I got back from getting my change the trucker was there offering to pay for my gas.
"Oh, no, I couldn't take that," I said.
"But you drove all the way here on your own time and money," she replied.
"It's really okay, the rescue will pay the gas," I urged.
She looked a little disappointed that she couldn't help me help others. That's the strange thing about doing good--it makes others want to join you. I never want to be boastful about doing good; I simply do it cause I enjoy it.
"Look up Operation Roger and see if you can help," I said. "That's payment enough, really."
She accepted and said she would check into it. I couldn't believe that she was seriously trying to hand me forty bucks to pay for gas. Hell, I feel weird enough turning in receipts to the rescue to begin with. The only reason I will is because someone donated the money for costs. And I still feel guilty. After all, I signed up to volunteer. (course with no job in sight, I should just accept and let it lie--a lot of rescues reimburse mileage or gas).
I drove away realizing that helping animals isn't just about helping animals. I debriefed a dog from the war of the shelter and watched her blossom. I got to see a new beginning when Jackie met her new mom and am excited about what her life will hold for her. And I was pleased to be able to spread the seed of knowledge--perhaps another volunteer will join the ranks of Operation Roger. But aside from all that, it reinforces my faith in humanity. People, animals, all life, I truly believe are good. Maybe we don't always see that in each other, but when we place an animal and its welfare between us, we see it clearly. Strangers say hello and smile, people offer their own time and money to others. People want to help, be a part of the process to help to save a life. On Thursday a bunch of strangers rallied behind a dog they hardly knew and together we got her off Death's Doorstep, in fact far out of his neighborhood, and into a new life. People ask, What's the point of Life? Personally, I don't care what the answer is, if there is one, because moments like these are all I need.
So I find it only fitting that one year later on August 7th, 2008 after seeing a posting about a dog in need, I drove to the local Animal Shelter and snatched a dog away from Death's Door.
A couple had seen Jackie, an 11 month old German Shepard according to the shelter website, and could see in her amber eyes that her life should not be snuffed out just because her previous owner couldn't keep her. They offered a donation to any rescue who would take her. A Jindo rescue did just that--since she wasn't just German Shepard, but clearly Jindo as well. The dog was blessed, as shortly after the rescue laid claim to her, an adopter sealed the deal. The adopter was perfect, and Jackie would have another Jindo to play with in their home. The only problem was the adopter was a wee bit far away, even for Los Angeles standards. So that's where I came in.
The adopter offered to drive half way to LA for the little girl, so I offered to drive the rest of the way to meet her. But as we were starting the planning, Jackie was pulled from the adoption website and red-listed. Red listed: meaning she's next in line to be put down given the need. So we needed to get her out now.
Thanks to numerous people who cared for this little canine who may never have even met her, it was finally arranged. And so there I was, chauffeur to the canine, offering not just my services but my place as a bed and breakfast until this morning. (Thank you SAG for the de facto strike--I never would have been able to help if the town wasn't in shut down mode till you all decide how much money you deserve)
When the contact at the shelter brought out Jackie I was a little taken back. I knew she was underweight, but I could see her hip bones jutting out an inch from her back and saw the ripples of her ribs along her side. Jackie shrieked bloody murder when the woman simply touched her--and she really was just touching her. If you didn't see her, you would have thought she was stabbing her repeatedly. I could understand how she ended up on the Red List. She was terrified, and terrified dogs simply don't get adopted. Aside from that, adopting out a dog who bites, nips, or isn't exceptionally tolerant, can be a liability. I even had to sign a waiver saying I wouldn't sue the city knowing that Jackie was a "fear biter."
After handling with kid gloves and coming to the conclusion that the harness was simply not going on her, I had to take the chance and let her ride not buckled in. I didn't push her, not knowing if her shrieking and biting was due to actual pain or just fear of potential pain. In the past three weeks she had been in two shelters, poked, prodded, her spay scars examined, and who knows what else. I believe the workers and vets who handled her were as kind and gentle as possible, but given her situation, Jackie was simply scared out of her wits and tired of being violated.
Getting a dog out of a shelter is only the first step. Getting the shelter out of the dog is a much more arduous process. It takes time, patience, and love. Even though I usually lack the middle virtue, when it comes to a scared animal, I have an unending supply, leaving none for anyone or anything else.
By evening, she allowed me to put the harness on her, but I couldn't adjust it without a shriek and nip. She never did actually bite me; just warn me with a snap--which actually is perfectly acceptable dog etiquette. They can't say, "Stop it!" or "Fuck off!"--so they use their teeth. And I heed the warning.
In only 24 hours, Jackie transformed from the terrified shelter dog, tail tucked beneath her body so far I didn't think I could find it, to a smiling canine tail up and wagging and ears alert. Last night we even rough-housed on the living room floor together. She finally trusted me.
This morning we drove the three hours north to meet her new mom. We spent almost an hour together, allowing Jackie to get used to her and to even learn Lie Down, which my friend began teaching her the other day. After some dismay from Jackie on having to hop into the back of the car, I got her enter another way and she and I parted ways. The adopter even gave me a gift card, which I was not expecting. I thanked her and told her it wasn't necessary. But she insisted, so I humbly accepted.
After they drove off to Jackie's new life together, I began talking to a woman truck driver who was out walking her three dogs. I asked if they were all hers. Then I told her what I was doing and about Operation Roger, the trucker organization that transports dogs for rescues across the country. She had not heard of such thing and said she would look it up.
After chatting I drove across the street to fill up my tank. When I got back from getting my change the trucker was there offering to pay for my gas.
"Oh, no, I couldn't take that," I said.
"But you drove all the way here on your own time and money," she replied.
"It's really okay, the rescue will pay the gas," I urged.
She looked a little disappointed that she couldn't help me help others. That's the strange thing about doing good--it makes others want to join you. I never want to be boastful about doing good; I simply do it cause I enjoy it.
"Look up Operation Roger and see if you can help," I said. "That's payment enough, really."
She accepted and said she would check into it. I couldn't believe that she was seriously trying to hand me forty bucks to pay for gas. Hell, I feel weird enough turning in receipts to the rescue to begin with. The only reason I will is because someone donated the money for costs. And I still feel guilty. After all, I signed up to volunteer. (course with no job in sight, I should just accept and let it lie--a lot of rescues reimburse mileage or gas).
I drove away realizing that helping animals isn't just about helping animals. I debriefed a dog from the war of the shelter and watched her blossom. I got to see a new beginning when Jackie met her new mom and am excited about what her life will hold for her. And I was pleased to be able to spread the seed of knowledge--perhaps another volunteer will join the ranks of Operation Roger. But aside from all that, it reinforces my faith in humanity. People, animals, all life, I truly believe are good. Maybe we don't always see that in each other, but when we place an animal and its welfare between us, we see it clearly. Strangers say hello and smile, people offer their own time and money to others. People want to help, be a part of the process to help to save a life. On Thursday a bunch of strangers rallied behind a dog they hardly knew and together we got her off Death's Doorstep, in fact far out of his neighborhood, and into a new life. People ask, What's the point of Life? Personally, I don't care what the answer is, if there is one, because moments like these are all I need.
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