Giving Thanks to the Village

Throughout my journeys in dog rescue, I have been struck with awe at the kindness and generosity of strangers. Tonight, it is the kindness and generosity of my friends and colleagues that brings me to tears. My heart is overflowing with gratitude.

Let’s be honest: asking for help doesn’t come easy to me. I have been disgusted with myself these past couple of months with how often I have had to ask for help. And I have been equally grateful to others who have provided that help. I had to admit that I couldn’t train Missy on my own; in response to that, I was given two training sessions to learn how to teach Missy the basics. When I stupidly mis-clipped her leash to her collar and Missy trotted off across the PetSmart parking lot, my yell for assistance was answered by an employee on his break. And when Missy was attacked at the end of the block, my cry for help was answered by neighbors, strangers, and a fire truck full of firefighters.

Even the small complaints of “I don’t know what to do,” (which is really, “Please help me” in disguise) were answered by friends like Amy who came by to meet Missy and teach her (and me) a few things, and Katya and Mike who safely discovered how Missy was around other dogs and gave me pointers on how to continue training her, and Christy who is forever answering my stupid emails and voicemails asking for advice.

With less than a week left and no new foster or forever home in sight, I was a mess. I was hopeless and helpless. The confidence I had for Marty when I said to Amanda, “Marty will be in a home in two weeks,” simply wasn’t there for Missy. I wasn’t expecting a miracle. I had been hoping for one, but the flame of hope was dying out.

And then a miracle did happen.

That miracle is the amazing and kind and generous cast of this insane production called my life. Friends I’ve known since I was four year old, and friends I have only known four years... they’ve come together in my time of need.

My Plan B for Missy, should a foster not be found, was to go to David’s in-home training program. Essentially, I’d be headed to my distant location job, and my foster kid would be packed up and sent to boarding school. She wouldn’t be in a concrete cell with cinder block walls and a chain link door; she’d be in a crate in David’s house to sleep and during the day, she’d learn to be with other dogs and get training with David.

Because of the generosity of Missy’s silent financier, I didn’t think it would be a problem. Granted $75 a day is a lot, but $20 a day to be boarded in a kennel with no stimulation or comfort indefinitely seemed like a greater waste of money to me (not that I had either $75 or $20 a day to spend; it was a theoretical opinion.) Belinda sent a request to Missy’s financial supporter for two weeks’ worth of training, knowing that 30 days worth was a large chunk of change, especially when she already spent $400 on lessons.

When she didn’t hear back, I went into panic mode.

I couldn’t drop Missy off at a kennel on Saturday. I couldn’t. I can’t. I won’t. In my mind, I angrily put aside my much-needed fence and now my much-needed deck (I learned today it is being ravished by termites; it’s only a matter of time before it’s gone and they move onto the structure of the house.) I would have to pay for Missy’s training. 

I then learned Chipin.com, rescue’s most trusted resource for fundraising, was closing its doors on March 7^th. I scoured the internet trying to find a replacement site that I could raise the money on. The universe sent me a lifeline. I left Christy an advice-seeking voicemail last night about sites to use, and this morning Christy received a fundraising effort from youcare.com—a site she hadn’t heard of. I sent the info to Belinda and within in an hour, Belinda set up a fundraising page for Missy’s training.

Even though our ultimate goal is $2250, Belinda set her goal low: $1000. That would be almost enough to get two weeks. I knew I’d be contributing whatever we couldn’t raise, but if we could raise the $1000, that’d be only $150 I’d need to put in. The dream of my fence was beginning to reappear.

If Missy’s silent sponsor did respond to Belinda’s request, then Missy would get a full 30 days. If I could get 100 people to donate just $20, we’d have enough even without Missy’s sponsor. I could do that. I began to have confidence—the kind of confidence I had for finding Marty a home, I now had for raising $2000 in two days.

The flame of hope brightened and strengthened.

To my grateful bewilderment, in only four hours from the site going live, a third of the $1000 goal was already raised. I told Belinda how incredibly overwhelmed I was with my friends’ generosity.

“Are you crying?” she asked, surprised.

“No... Well, yes. I just can’t believe how much they gave!”

As I write this, only twelve hours from when it all began, with only a dozen contributors, we are just $65 short of our goal. Actually, Belinda is expecting a $50 check from one of her supporters, and a friend of mine said she’d contribute in the morning. So really, we did raise $1000 in less than a day.

This morning, before I began the Missy fundraising effort, I read a blog that Katya wrote about a dog she tried to help, but couldn’t: (http://katyalidsky.tumblr.com/post/44738607494/chesters-music.) My eyes welled up with tears; I was so sad for her. I wrote to her that she shouldn’t feel like she failed this dog. And here’s why: 

As we walk along our path in life, we encounter many souls. We stop for some, some join us for a time, sometimes we even veer off our own path to help another find their true path. But we can’t help them all. We can’t carry every one that needs help; our hands get full. But that is not our failure. We can only hope that there is someone behind us on the path that will pick up those we can’t carry. 

Tonight I am thankful for all those souls on my path that walk not behind me, but beside me. The cast of characters in my life’s journey are helping me carry this one, helping me help Missy. They helped by providing moral support, by sending out messages of her journey, and today they gave from their wallets. Some may not have even a dime to spare, but they gave anyway.

My Christmas and birthday gifts consist of PetSmart and PetCo cards and dog blankets and dog toys. My friends and family know that the greatest gift I can receive is one that I can pass on to those I want to help. The gift people gave today--the gift of schooling to Missy, is two-fold. It is for her, certainly. But it is also for me.

Just because I write certain things to other people, doesn’t mean I apply the same words to myself. I feel like a failed Missy. On a grand scale, I hope to leave this earth a better place than the way I found it. When it comes to each dog, I need to leave them in a better place than where I found them (or rather, they found me.) Taking Missy to a kennel would have ripped my heart out. And I’m quite certain I would not have been able to contain my pain in front of her. Taking her to David’s, although it will be hard, will not be the same sense of failure, betrayal, and abandonment.

I truly believe – I need to believe – that this training will give Missy the leg up on a forever home, and if not that, at least a foster home where she can be happy with other canine friends. I knew what she needed, and I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t do it alone.

This gift my friends gave me isn’t just of money. It’s time. For the past few days, I have been spending my days either prepping for my job or trying to find somewhere for Missy to go. And, when not actively doing that, simply being depressed and sad about the situation. Missy has spent the past few days alone on the couch, giving off an air of depression, probably picking up on my stressful and distressing vibes.

But now, thanks to this support, I can relax for a moment. I can do what I want to and need to be doing right now: spending every last second I have with Missy simply with Missy. Not searching for money and a foster. Not being upset and distraught. But doing what every dog does so well, that thing that I need to keep relearning to do: to just be. 

Here is the link to Missy’s fundraising campaign:

http://www.youcaring.com/other/Missy-Rescued-Staffie-needs-Boarding-Training-/45670 

You can still give even though we’ve reached our goal. Every dollar will go toward her training, and the more we get, the more training she will receive. 

Missy thanks you, Belinda thanks you, and I thank you. From the bottom of our hearts. I am forever grateful and thankful. Missy will get training, I will get peace of mind, and for the next two days, I will get to just be with this beautiful golden girl, knowing that because of all of you, I do indeed get to leave her in a better place than where she found me.

 

Sassy, Street-Wise Female Seeks Partner in Crime

Many people describe a dog as being “eager to please.” It’s just about standard in any dog ad I see. But I don’t think that’s a true across-the-board statement for the canine species. Take Missy here. Is she doing what I ask because she wants me to be happy? Nope. She’s doing it (if she is doing it) because either a. she enjoys the challenge of trying to figure out what I’m saying and is proud that she has, or b. she feels that whatever I am requesting happens to be a good idea to her as well. 

That’s what you get when you have a super smart, independent dog. Oh sure, she loves to cuddle and she wants to play and constantly wants to bully me into letting her on my lap (when I’m at the dinner table, 

or sitting in a chair reading, 

or some other inconvenient place where my lap in inaccessible.) 

This doesn’t make her a bad dog. But it certainly makes her a unique sell. 

And sell I must; the PR campaign has begun as the countdown to employment has started to tick. Missy needs a new couch to surf or her forever home to magically appear before March 2^nd. There might be a few day leeway on that, but just be certain, I want her to be comfy in her place in only 10 days time.

Missy’s initial assessment when she was couped up in a vet’s office was that she’s an “active” dog. She’d enjoy hiking, running, playing fetch for hours on end. Not sure if just getting out of the crate changed her attitude, or if the enormous amount of good food she gets through training has packed on enough pounds, but she’s not the “active” dog people have been describing. She gets ramped up and runs about every now and again, but it’s not like she needs to be running five hours a day. She’s no Marty either though; she’s not content to lazily walk along the sidewalk, snooze on the couch all day long and not pick up her head to eat dinner.

I’ve never had issues promoting my canine companions, as I’ve been lucky: they’ve all been easy. Missy is a work in progress. She’s come a long way in her six weeks here with me. David’s training has made a huge difference. Missy is more focused, listens a good 20-30% more often than before, and she seems a little more relaxed. I still can’t seem to coordinate myself to the leash training, which is the thing I need most, but I can’t fault Missy. It’s me who can’t get her shit together.

In complete disregard of David’s advice, I’ve resolved to take Missy out into the world. Do I have 100% control of her? No. Does she have 100% recall when I tell her to Come? No. But I don’t know any dog that obedient. In fact, I think completely obedient dogs are kinda boring. Don’t they have their own opinions? I know Missy does.

Missy went back to the vet this week to get her limp checked out. I had gleaned from our previous vet visit that the doc thought Missy might be “vicious” or “unpredictable.” At that point, Missy didn’t want anyone touching her. This time, the doc got pretty far into the examination without a problem. It wasn’t until she and the tech tried to get Missy to turn over that Missy clamped down on her hand. Missy shouldn’t have bitten her (she didn’t break skin, but still, putting a human hand in her mouth is unacceptable), but I could see why Missy did it. She felt threatened suddenly. She didn’t want to lie down and two people were trying to hold her down and expose her vulnerable belly. I would have fought back too.

Later on, Missy rolled over on her side on her own to get a belly rub from the doc. Missy isn’t doing what you ask because it’ll please you; she’s doing and not doing what you ask because it will please her. The vet seemed unconvinced.

After a few hours in her vet tech’s care (Missy needed to get her ears cleaned and x-rays done, so she spent the morning there) the doc came out to tell me what I had already known but was nice to hear from someone else. “Missy isn’t vicious; she just has an attitude.”

That pretty much sums it up. She’s not going to rip your face off if you touch her, but if you try to make her move in a position she doesn’t want to be in, she will tell you firmly, loudly, and possibly too harshly, to get your damn hands off her.

I explained to the vet that Missy and I are actually quite similar in some respects, which in some ways makes training easier but in other ways are just two stubborn beasts butting heads. I have thumbs; she has teeth. Believe it or not, that’s a fair fight.

Missy expresses her discontent or disagreement with me in various forms. If it’s not butting me with her head or slamming into me full force at a running gait, she growls into a crescendoed bark. When I tried to ignore her barking to get me to play while I was reading, she took it up one more notch and put my arm in her mouth. That was a definite Not Allowed, but I must commend her ingenuity in her effort to get what she wanted.

Her mat training has given her more focus, and having her sit and wait at thresholds has given her more patience than she had weeks ago.  But if she remained confined to the backyard and house, there was no way she would find a new home, nor could I tell people what she was like in the outside world.

I wanted to know if she was “okay with dogs” because let’s face it: it is the first thing adopters ask. So I took her to the one place I knew there would be dogs in a safe environment: the adoption fair at Centinela Feed Store. I wasn’t there to adopt out Missy; I just wanted to see what she’d do if she was ever allowed into one.

After a few spats and almost-spats, I determined that she’s fine if a dog is a good distance away. Little dogs are less threatening. But any dog of any size an inch front of her face: this is where all hell breaks loose. The pretty blue pocket pittie that we were next to got the brunt of one of Missy’s sudden hissy-fits for no reason except she was a foot away. This poor little bully, who already had a sad face, slunk back, ears down, and buried her head.

After a good amount of time standing in the sun and being in and out of the store for coolness breaks, Missy chose to hunker down in the coolest spot she could find.

I figured she had had enough for the day. We returned home where I planned our next outing and Missy sought relief from the heat.

Our first venture began at PetSmart. I was on the hunt for a smaller, more manageable treatbag so I didn’t have to tie a toolbag-sized treat bag around my waist any time we went for a walk. I figured a dog-friendly self-contained place would be a good starting point, rather than say, Griffith Park with wildlife to contend with.

The drive was fine, as Missy was excited to finally get back into the truck. Once in the parking lot, my biggest fear came true. I wasn’t at a rest stop in the middle Nebraska, just a parking lot in the little mountain town of Tujunga, but when Missy launched ahead, the leash went to it’s fullest length and then SNAP!, a metal ring from her collar flew to the side, the leash hit the pavement and Missy kept trotting away from me, the same level of adrenaline rushed into my heart.

“Missy, COME! Somebody help me! COME!” I yelled to Missy but also was hoping the two people I had seen in front of a nearby store would come to my aid. They ignored my plea even when I yelled “Help!” a second time. An employee from PetSmart had recently walked around the side of the building and it was he who came running. Missy didn’t hear my initial panicked plea, but the second “COME!” made her turn and look at me.

She was 15 yards away, but I saw my panic register on her face. “Whoa. What’s wrong?” her expression said as she trotted back to me.

The PetSmart employee was by my side as Missy returned to me and I was frantically explaining that the collar broke... but it hadn’t broke. I had, for the first time ever, latched the leash onto the hook for the tag rather than the hook of the collar. The tag and hook were what had flown off onto the ground. The collar was intact. It was clear that like most things in my life, my problem was self-induced.

We visited three pet stores that day because finding exactly what I want is always a long, complicated journey (see last sentence of previous paragraph.) Missy did well, and no longer lunged at people. She wasn’t fond of dogs, but people were now becoming a normalcy and nothing to bark about.  It wasn’t until I got home and took off her harness that I saw the evidence of just how stressful it had been for her. Dandruff covered her back as if she had been in a snowstorm. With that new knowledge, I realized that the day was even more successful than I had initially believed.

Inclement weather (yes, that's hail on the deck) kept us at home for a few more days, but I was determined to make her a social dog. 

Maybe one day she would even be good with dogs... but then something happened – and this time it wasn’t self-induced.

On our short evening walk around the block on Monday, just as we reached the corner at the end of my block while Missy was about to find the perfect pooping spot, a blur of canine came from behind us and jumped her. He took both Missy and me by surprise. I had never had a dog attack while mine was on the leash the other wasn’t – he didn’t even have a collar I could grab. I did the only thing I knew I could do: I yelled for help. I tried to push the other dog off Missy, but she was already having the upper hand. Dogfights always sound worse than they are, and Missy was clearly winning. I didn’t want to pull her back, giving the other dog a way in to win.

The response to my call for help was astonishing. A van travelling south pulled up next to the curb laying on the horn to distract the dog. A firetruck heading north stopped on the opposite side of the road and rag their sirens. Neighbors came out of their houses. In all this commotion, the dog took off back across the four-lane street as the owner headed my way along with a team of firefighters.

Missy was barking (but luckily not lunging) at the men surrounding us. I was feeling her legs and looking at her body everywhere. The owner apologized and explained that company had come over and left the front door open. The dog dashed across the street (without getting hit is a miracle.) “He doesn’t really fight. He just likes to dominate and then he’s done.”

I told him he needed to get a collar on that dog. There was no way I could have gotten him off my dog. Nothing to hold onto. One of the firefighters asked if I wanted them to call animal control. I thanked him, but said I didn’t want a dog needlessly put into the system as a vicious dog. Missy looked unscathed (physically), and it wasn’t negligence – it was an accident. What would have happened outside PetSmart is Missy had seen another dog after her leash broke?

The outcome of the event was the best one could hope for in an event as traumatizing as a dog attack. Certainly this wasn’t going to help Missy trust dogs. And I wasn’t sure how to gain Missy’s trust back. I had been teaching her two things: 1. not all dogs are out to attack her, so she doesn’t need to attack first, and 2. I would protect her. In this moment, not only was a dog out to attack her, but I couldn’t protect her. She had to hold her own. All I could do was enlist other humans.

I’m purposefully not taking Missy anywhere I know dogs to be. However, she still needs people-time. And so we had our first journey to the coffee house on Wednesday. One of the regulars who had met Marty back in December said, “Hey, that’s not Marty. Did he get a home?” I said yes. “Oh, I brought these toys for him.”

He had a frisbee, a rope, and a giant “pit-sized” ball. I thanked him and said I’m sure Missy would enjoy them too. Marty made quite an impact. And look how hard it was to get him a home. Missy needs even more magical universal timing to get her to the right place... and we have a lot less time to do it in.

Missy still had issues with dogs passing by and a bike too, but otherwise she was polite and gentle with all people who came by. She even relaxed enough to just sit or lie down. It wasn’t as easy as it was with Marty, but that was only because I had to be on the lookout for other canines.  

Missy finally has an ad on adopt-a-pet. Sure, she needs some more training, and isn’t always going to do as she’s told. But I think she’s ready to find her person. She’s not a chill dog. But she’s also not the crazy nutcase that I took home six weeks ago. 

She’s become used to the home life, and I’d hate to see her go back into boarding. 

She’s gotten used to snoozing on the couch, and getting treats for having manners, and running about the house with her stuffed toys. 

I don’t regret keeping her. I think it was better than where she was before, locked up in a vet’s office, costing the rescue money and not allowing Missy the chance to really be a dog. The idea that she might go back there now though, feels like a betrayal.

So, if you or someone you know would like to take on this sassy, independent girl – even just as a foster, not a forever home if you're hesitant – please respond to her ad. Here it is (oh, and she is is highly trainable, but ignore the part about “eager to please.”)

http://www.adoptapet.com/pet/8500428-los-angeles-california-american-pit-bull-terrier-mix