I volunteered at the pet adoption in Kenneth Village this weekend, and this time there were only three dogs up for adoption (not including the little pups in the window I didn't get a chance to meet). The three were 1. a gangly, underweight black lab mix Christy named Olive because her she reminded her of Olive Oyle from Popeye, 2. a slightly taller than average poodle mix who desperately wanted to be held and cuddled all the time, and 3. a slightly longer than average white/apricot wire-haired doxie/terrier/something mix. So who is my favorite?
Of course. Although Freud would have a field day on why I like wiener dogs, the fact isn't so much what they look like (but seriously, look at that tail and those little back feet!),
but it's the attitude, the independence, the way they can, in just one look, say, "You are such an idiot, I can't even be seen with you," and walk away almost shaking their heads in disappointment, that I adore. Having a dachshund means you will only love your dog on their terms, not yours. It's as close to owning a cat as you can get while still having only a dog.
This little guy was nameless when I arrived, but after a short walk with Christy's mom, he returned with a name: Harry. Christy added a middle name so this little guy who stole my heart is now properly named Harry Winston.
While Harry sat alone in one of the chairs at the booth (I still held his leash, but he wanted his own chair) and the poodle burrowed herself into my chest, the over-exuberant, spazy Olive found a home.
A mother and daughter arrived saying they had been looking for a companion for their five-year old Golden Retriever Layla, who was by their side. Layla was an adult, but the moment she laid eyes on Olive she became a puppy again. She bowed down inviting play and Olive finished up licking the daughter's face to romp with this new giant playmate. Only moments later, I was walking Olive back to their house so she could meet the rest of the family and allow Layla and Olive some time off leashes to see how they'd get along.
It was a success! By the time we returned to the booth, the mother had completed the paperwork, I confirmed that all was well at the house, and Olive got a new collar and leash and went home with her family.
And it was only 11 a.m. One down, two to go. I was of course heavy on the sell for little Harry, and Christy had to remind me that the poodle (that she decided to call Muffin) also needed a home.
A woman came along who was looking for one of the volunteers that wasn't there this week. We chatted for a minute and she said that her dog passed away in March and she wasn't sure if she was ready for a new dog quite yet. I asked what kind of dog and she replied, "A miniature dachshund."
Ah, well, if she was ready, she should really meet little Harry (who was chilling out under a bench by himself watching the world go by). He wasn't purebeed by any means, but if it wasn't the triangle ears, the long body or the stubby legs, that independence streak would definitely mark his bloodline as at least part doxie.
Harry had been playing earlier in the day with Olive, and since she left, he had been resting. He is a puppy after all, and puppies generally go eighty miles an hour for forty-five minutes and then sleep for four hours. He'd been awake since I had arrived at 9:30, so he was a little sleepy. When we finally got a chance to pull Harry out of his hiding and sat on the ground, he was not terribly interested in the woman, but I thought perhaps he was just tired. He allowed her to give him a pet and then he slunked away to sleep under a chair.
This lady had taken care of her dachshund with Cushing's Disease. She had been her caretaker for over a year. This was a big decision on whether or not to open her home and heart now. I didn't want to pressure her. Christy and I opened up the idea of fostering (like a rent-to-own scenario), but we all knew this was a woman who committed. No need to foster--just adopt.
But she was wavering. There was something in her voice that told me she wasn't quite ready. Christy said that when her dog died, within a month she had another one because for her, it was honoring her dog's legacy to pass that love onto another. It wasn't that she no longer loved her deceased dog; she was loving the new dog in honor of her old one. I whole-heartedly agree with the idea, but not everyone is strong enough to do it so quickly. My dogs taught me to love; and in honor of them, I transport and foster, showing as many dogs as I can that love. That's their legacy.
Harry's potential adopter started looking over the adoption application (I probably should have read it first before telling others to fill it out--this was the first time any of the dogs I worked with had gotten this far), she got to a question, "Have you have had to euthanize a dog?" I'm sure it asks the circumstances if the answer is Yes, and I don't think it's looked upon as always bad. But it was that question that brought this woman to a halt.
"I can't do this right now," she said, on the verge of tears.
It was just her and me (and Harry and Muffin) in the booth, and I didn't want to pressure her. "I understand," I said.
"Someone will adopt him if I don't," she said, not in an "Oh, no, someone else will get my dog!" but a "He doesn't need me" way.
"I believe a dog chooses you," I told her. "If it's meant to be, maybe if you come back next week, he'll still be here."
The truth is that I wasn't pushing it not only for her sake but for Harry's. He obviously wasn't a desperate lover like Muffin, but I couldn't tell if he was choosing her since he was so sleepy. Olive really liked the family--I had no doubts on that one. But I didn't know if Harry was into her or not. It's hard to tell with those independent ones.
I apologized to the woman (whose name I never did learn) for getting her upset. She said I hadn't; this was just bringing back a lot for her. Her dog had died in her arms, and I said, "I think that's the best place any animal can die--in the arms of the one they love and who love them." You're right: I wasn't helping matters.
Christy returned to find me alone with the two dogs and looked around, "What happened? I thought you had her? Where did she go?"
I explained the situation and Christy understood. She doesn't pressure people either. Adopting a dog is a lifetime commitment. It shouldn't be taken lightly. There is love at first sight--I get that--it happened to Olive. Maybe it'll happen for Harry too. Or maybe he slept through the moment he needed to get a home.
I don't have any doubt this cute little guy will get a home soon. But since he is part doxie, I think he'll get it on his own terms, in his own way. And if shows you love, you better realize the gravity of the situation. They don't give their love easily, but once they get in your heart, they're there for eternity. Trust me.
No comments:
Post a Comment