One Yes Leads to Another

It was going to be a simple thing really:  I signed up to volunteer with the Heigl Foundation to walk dogs they have in boarding.  The boarding facility is literally a twelve minute walk from my place, so I thought this would be a great opportunity to not only help some animals, but get in some dog time when I wasn't transporting, and possibly start a little exercise routine.

I met up with Candace, the volunteer coordinator, and we took out two dogs for our first walk:  Pretty, who was a giant 100 pound grey beast with dazzling yellow eyes, along with Neolle, a springer/lab mix (I'm guessing on that, I have no idea).  Noelle was calm, cool, and collective, and walked well on a leash.  I don't outweigh many dogs, but Pretty made me feel petite.  The fact that she hasn't yet learned to walk on a leash might have also added to her gravitational pull.

Candace and I traded dogs and we continued back around the area and decided Pretty was just too much for me to handle.  After Pretty went back to her kennel, Candace asked if I wanted to keep walking Noelle, or if I was done...or if I might want to spend the day with her.

Huh.  I hadn't thought of that.  I thought maybe an hour walk and then be on with my day.  But she's so sweet.  And calm.  And she's been in boarding since December.  The only time she gets out is when she's at an adoption fair.  The dog handler at the facility said the latest I could bring her back today was 5:30.

Or she could spend the night.  She's quite chill, and the dog deserves a night away from boarding.  Granted it's a nice facility and she probably gets time outside with the other dogs, but it is boarding.  She might like a home.  And with a nifty little "Adopt Me" bandana, a day in the park for exposure isn't a bad idea.

And so began my day with Noelle, with no expectations other than I would probably bring her back by 5:30.

Candace offered to give us a lift, but I said we'd just walk back to my place (or in the neighborhood).  We made it thirty feet down the alleyway in the direction of my apartment when Noelle plopped her butt down in the shaded portion of the pavement.  Candace rolled up silently in her Prius, and I said to her through the open window, "I think Noelle would like a ride."

Despite Noelle's initial disenchantment with going for a walk, she was even less excited to be in the apartment.  I left the main door open so she could see out the screen, and she watched in silence, except for the occasional glance over to me to ask we could leave again.  She paced, she panted, and it was clear she was anxious.

But it was hot outside.  The pavement had to be boiling.  I took her out for a few minutes at a time, and finally ended up doing my most hated Los Angeles move:  I drove somewhere so we could go for a walk.

I thought walking around Griffith Park near the merry-go-round (and hence children) would get her some good PR, and maybe someone would like to get to know her.  But no one bothered.  And she was so fascinated with every single scent that she really didn't care to meet people anyway.

Back at the apartment I was reminded how badly I need to get my carpet cleaned.  Noelle, who had had puppies of her own (all of which were adopted long ago), picked out and paused at every single place Pixie and Loki had peed or pooped.  There was no evidence visually.  But she found them all.  I watched in trepidation, just waiting for her to squat and mark her spot, as I had seen her do in the bushes and sidewalks.  But no, just a sniff, perhaps reminiscent of motherhood, and she moved on.  Somehow, in all those months in boarding, or maybe in her prior life, she was housebroken.  You have no idea how pleasant it is to trust an animal to not pee in the living room.  I had almost forgotten that delight.

I was worried about her panting and anxiety, and thought perhaps I should take her back to boarding.  They have an outdoor section where the dogs can hang together, and they even have a wading pool.  Maybe she would be happier there.  I didn't have a backyard for her to lounge out on, and she seemed stressed to be indoors.

It wasn't until I think her sleepiness finally overtook her that she relaxed enough to stop panting and just fall asleep on the couch.  It took her much time to get comfortable, and with the effort and exasperation it took her wiggling upside and pushing pillows and burying her head in the side of the couch, you'd think it was the most uncomfortable object on the planet.  But I guess it did the trick.

As she was snoozing, Candace called to see how it was going.  I told her I might bring her back since I thought maybe she wasn't comfortable, but on the other hand, maybe I should keep her the night since she was finally relaxed enough.

And then the decision was made for me.  First Candace said I should know what a gift I was giving Noelle, letting her crash on a couch and be out of boarding.  And then she told me that she received an application from a potential adopter and wanted to know if I could call the adopter and set a time for her to meet Noelle.  But she couldn't until after 5.

Decision made then.  Noelle will spend the night with me.  I explained I had never done an introduction before and Candace talked me through it over the phone.  It seemed easy enough.  The adopter called me back at 5:10, asked if she minded if she stopped at home to pick up her husband and dog, and then be on her way.  7pm, Noelle would meet her potential adopters.

I know we could have walked, but Noelle really seemed to enjoy car rides, so we drove back to the edge of Griffith Park, a less trafficked picnic ground, and I conducted my first Meet-n-Greet.

The couple seemed sweet, a good match for sweet Noelle.  And their dog Jack, also a breed of mixed genetics, was about Noelle's size and didn't seem to mind her.  They matched in temperament, both dogs content to walk side by side or near each other sniffing and taking in this new area.  The potential adopter said she didn't mind that Noelle wasn't all goo-goo and ga-ga over them; she expected her to be a dog: sniffing around on the ground in a leisurely walk.

It was less than half an hour: they talked about their place and their experience with Jack, and I gave them the little insight I had from knowing Noelle for the past ten hours.

I know I can't do home checks yet.  I don't want to be responsible for sending a dog to a home that isn't right.  But this felt okay.  This was doable: just letting person and dog meet and see how they are.  Noelle did give them each attention, and even Jack, and Jack didn't mind that the humans were happy to get kisses from Noelle.  I wasn't responsible for the ultimate Yes or No--I just facilitated the potential adopter's Yay or Nay. 

But I can't come away unbiased.  I think she'll be happy there.  It was a big day for her.  She got out of boarding, and it wasn't for an adoption fair: it was for something even more important--being introduced to her potential family.  And she didn't even realize how big a moment it was.

It all started with a simple walk.  Just me saying, "Yes."  "Yes, I'll go for a walk."  "Yes, I'll take her for the day."  "Yes, I'll keep her overnight."  And now, if everything checks out (which I can't imagine it won't), this little girl who's been in boarding for six months will finally have a couch of her own, a person (actually two!) to protect and love, and a chill canine friend to hang with for the rest of her life.

And all because I said "Yes" to a going for a walk.  Imagine all the possibilities if every single one of us just said "Yes" to one simple thing every day.

And with that thought, I must awaken my snoring canine friend who is sleeping with her head dangling off the couch.   I really doubt she's going to say "Yes" to getting up.