Denied Adoption, I Took a Dark Path

Kiki: Grunge era fashion victim
with stray dog in Puerto Rico.

Even in the 90's, tough adoption standards made me skirt ethics.

I must confess that when I tried to adopt my first 2 dogs from Arizona shelters I was soundly rejected both times.  Granted, I was in my early twenties and had dyed my hair black at the time, so it’s possible the staff thought I had priorities other than being a dog baby mom, but I was happily involved with an animal rights organization, worked in a doggy daycare/boarding facility and had grown up not only with dogs, but with an amazing variety of animals, some of which were brought to us by neighbors because they were sick, lost or injured.  I considered myself rather a catch when it came to animal companionship.  And yet here I was being told an apartment was inappropriate for the dog.  So my chosen baby was returned to her 4x4 prison cell until someone with a palatial mansion happened by and wanted her.  It made me terribly sad and made little sense.

Pop and the pooch.  A teensy bit of mis-
representation with the best of intentions.

So I sent my Marine father in to adopt her.  He was a very noble, law abiding guy, but like John Wayne, happily broke rules that were unjust or just plain silly.  He walked out of the shelter carrying my Joey like a baby.  Drill sergeants look so cute with puppies.

Turns out a dog will do alright in an apartment if you walk them, make sure all their needs are met, and love, love, love them.

Then came Elli.  I went to a different shelter to adopt her.  By now I had moved into a house with a fenced yard.  The shelter where Elli resided would be happy to know this, but since I was kind of a doggy kidnapper on the lam, I did not report that I had changed from an apartment and could now better accommodate a dog, nor did I indicate that I had ever set foot in a shelter for any reason ever.  I presented as a fresh faced ingénue about to embark on her first adventure into dog adoption because I was utterly paranoid. What if they found out about me and confiscated Joey!?  I lied about having another dog because I could feel the heat, if you know what I mean, but my confidence that I was no longer in an apartment emboldened me.  When I told them proudly about my beautiful grassy yard, they asked how tall the fence was.  At the time this threw me for a bit of a loop.  Was it a trick? I hesitated then told them it was about 4 feet.  Surely this was an acceptable height. 

Joey and Elli.  They are no longer with me,
but I will love them forever.

I was rejected yet again.  I don’t think they had an actual buzzer or that “Wah, waaaaah” sound to accompany my humiliation, but I didn’t let it deter me.  I looked into Elli’s eyes and silently promised her that while I was going to walk away, a quiet man with a crew cut was coming back for her very, very soon.

The funny part is, when my dear dad went to adopt Elli, a boxer mix puppy with tiny little feet, they were filming a promotional video for the shelter.  They filmed the whole adoption process with my dad, the dog rescue equivalent of the guy under-aged kids pay to go into a convenience store to buy them beer.  He carried little Elli out much like he had carried Joey, her little paws clutching his strong neck.  Well now they could absolutely and without question ID our illicit adoption scam ring.  I remember when he brought her to my house I was waiting anxiously on the porch.  He walked up to me and handed over the warm little bundle.  I thanked him profusely and we

Elli: Little dog, big attitude.

laughed a bit, as criminals tend to do when they get away with it.  As he walked away, back to his International Scout (an SUV before SUVs) she watched him go with a sad expression.

My dad didn’t live too much longer after that.  She turned out to be a tough guy just like him.

Turns out that in reality, my fence was a perfectly fine height.  Luckily the two puppies got along splendidly – which was truly a relief because that part of the plan was left entirely to fate, my biggest potential error in the whole adoption.

Joey and Elli in their couch potato golden years.

Joey and Elli lived 14 more years each, passing away within less than a year of one another.  The silence of a home once occupied by dogs that is suddenly bereft of their joyful noise is deafening.

They were my buddies and I know I made mistakes with them along the way...starting with their improper adoption, but they had a lot of love, a lot of fun, and a little gas sometimes.  I hope I am lucky enough to always have a couple of dogs kicking me in the abdomen while I'm sleeping.  I think if I have to go into assisted living I will just ask to be boarded at a dog kennel.

There are times when the standards are so high for adopting animals that very good people are weeded out.  It's a loss for the animal, the potential adopter, as well as the shelter.  So many of them are underfunded and full to capacity.  The staff in many of these places are volunteers or employees who are probably overworked and underpaid, but are called to save animals and do it with passion. Should they relax their standards?  I don't think so - not at all.  I will gladly abide home visits and lengthy applications because I know that this process makes it more likely that animals are going to people who will treat them properly - hopefully like family.  Urine samples?  Yes.  Need some blood?  Fine.

Joey's toddler years.  Playing with an orange.

I have read of people outraged that they were rejected, who then turned to a breeder or
pet shop to purchase a dog or other animal.  It is in every way a tragedy.  It saddens me deeply and it's a flaw in our system, but I truly cannot think of a better way to screen adopters.  I wish there was a scanner that could be swept over a person to instantly reveal their character in a tidy printout. Are there overzealous rescuers who are jaded enough that they make it impossible for loving adopters to walk away with an animal in need? Of course, but we can't risk the alternative of handing over animals with little more than the a hope they'll be safe.

-Kiki Nusbaumer

The Dreaded Dewclaw

This overzealous reenactment shows how a
dewclaw can be snagged in tall weeds during play.

My dog has snagged both her dewclaws (the oddly placed claw that sits rather high up on a dog’s front legs and is probably evolving into a thumb so she can more easily grasp a beer for me out of the fridge).  A dog rarely has these claws on her hind legs, and if he does he may get teased and bullied at the dog park because he has polydactyly.  The whole 5 clawed arrangement on the back legs is called hind-limb-specific preaxial polydactyly.  Rolls off the tongue.

I took my dog (we shall refer to her as “her own poop breath” to protect her identity.  OK no, her name is Molly.  Molly the doodie snacker) to the vet because she snagged her dewclaw.  It bled and she cried.  I do not want to hear that crying again as it made my mommy instincts curl up into a ball of horror.  I asked if it would be best to just have them removed.  My vet, Dr. Jennifer Kistler, said she sees these injuries very frequently, but the removal of the front dewclaws is essentially major surgery.  Since my vet is awesomeness in a lab coat, that was enough for me, but for you guys I will throw in another expert.

According to Dr. M. Christine Zinc, a consultant on canine sports medicine, designer of

Yin and yang: A sister to rest with always makes
the healing process more enjoyable.

rehabilitation and conditioning programs for canine athletes and an award winning author, in her article “Do the Dew (claws),” this accident prone little digit is attached by five tendons.  The muscles attached to these tendons atrophy if they are not used, causing trouble for the dog like carpal arthritis and joint injuries, which are much more trouble than a dewclaw injury.

When a dog runs, this little claw does in fact hit the ground and helps with turning. 

Without the claw the leg twists and injuries develop.  Dealing with a snagged dewclaw injury is much better for the dog than the removal of that surprisingly important toe.

If your dog happens to have dewclaws on his hind-legs are your troubles doubled?  No indeed.  Your freaky little dog’s back dewclaws are not made the same way as the front and basically are held on with skin only.  Some dogs even have more than one little claw back there, all huddled together like a bunch of tiny bananas hanging from a hairy banana tree.

Damaged dewclaw.

Molly now has two little nubbins where a hard nail should be.  They look like worm segments hanging out of the torn remains of a chitinous cave.  Thank goodness my special poop eater wasn't about to participate in the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.  They are a little tender but Dr. Kistler says the nails will grow back, perhaps slightly oddly shaped, but a girl who eats her own poo isn't very vain.

At the end of the day the reason her nails snagged was because I allowed them to grow too long.  The dewclaw is relatively easy to overlook, but when it grows into a macaroni shaped C or worse: a tight curl snagging at rug fibers, tall grass, blankets and dog bed threads, you are asking for trouble and the dog’s the one who feels it.  It’s going to take some work but I think she’ll forgive me.  I learned this lesson about dewclaws the hard way.

-Kiki Nusbaumer

http://www.caninesports.com/uploads/1/5/3/1/15319800/dewclawexplanation.pdf

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewclaw

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Tasty niblets.

The Week of April 12 – April 17

Dog Team Searches for Lost Hiker

13 species we might have to say goodbye to in 2015

Abu, senior dog rescued from garbage in Spain

Cats communicate through meows, blinks and whiskers

 

Lil Bub makes appearance at Denver County Fair to help raise funds for animals

 

Last male white rhino protected by armed guards

Go ahead, try to poach this rhino.

 

Solving the mystery of dog domestication

In a nursing home or underneath the porch, In the US we dispose of the elderly

Here in the United States we don’t do as well by our elderly as China, Japan, Korea, France or the Mediterranean and Latin cultures.  We are a youth centered society, relegating our elderly to a lonely, isolated existence or hiding them away in nursing homes.  They get little respect and little support.  Rather than placing them on a pedestal or considering them the core of the family unit, we as Americans often consider them a burden.

Thor and his dad.
Thor was 11 when
he was adopted.

We do, however, treat our companion animals quite well.  Well many of them.  The rest we euthanize because there are just so many in the system they don’t fit in the shelters.  These unfortunates are not adopted.  They are put down by the millions.  As Marleen Oetz from LNF Dog Rescue says, “Half of them don’t make it out alive.”

We really like puppies and kittens.

Today I read about some elderly dogs.  They are treated much the same way as elderly Americans.

Chelo at Muttville Senior Dog Rescue
(Photo by Muttville). www.muttville.org

Chelo

In an article in Dog Heirs online, Chelo, a senior Pomeranian, was surrendered by his “family.”  The reason: Too old.  The article goes on to say he lived outside 24 hours a day, underneath the porch, utterly alone day in and day out.  And the capper is that they shamelessly informed the shelter staff at Muttville Senior Dog Rescue in San Francisco, CA, where they dumped the dog, that they “got a newer dog to replace,” like he’s a light bulb or something.  They actually wrote on the surrender paperwork, probably read it back to themselves (yes they can read and write) but felt no guilt or shame, no desire to pretend to be decent humans by lying and saying something- ANYTHING- besides “Too old. Got a newer dog to replace.”  I think our shelter system should have a black list shared among them and when creatures like this come in to dispose of the inconvenient little life they had a whim for and then lost interest, they get on the list and they no longer have access to living beings as property ever again.  I can think of an appropriate name for the list.

Chelo has since been adopted and has now begun his happy life with a loving family.

Baus at www.socalbulldogrescue.org (Photo
by Southern California Bulldog Rescue)

Baus

I also read on the Deaf Dogs Rock Facebook page about Baus.  He’s a ten and a half year old bulldog.  He was surrendered to Southern California Bulldog Rescue because he was “Old and smells.”  His neglect was so thorough that he has cherry eye in both eyes and other eye maladies which have brought him to near blindness, severe dental issues, and ear infections that have rendered him deaf.  He smells because he has been allowed to fall apart piece by piece.  His new caregiver says, “He wants nothing yet gives everything he has to you. I love kissing his face. And his smelly breath from his rotten teeth is just the cologne of a tender old man to me.”

Baus is currently in foster care and is available for adoption.  And he will be adopted, I have no doubt.  Under the post one person commented, “Can’t wait ‘til his ex owners get old and smell.”  And they will, I have no doubt.

A violent end

According to Dr. Jared Diamond, UCLA professor of geography and physiology, traditional Nomadic tribes sometimes had to abandon their elderly on treacherous journeys.  Aché Indians who were plagued with famine assigned young men to essentially assassinate the elderly with an axe, spear or the practice of burying them alive.  No doubt this was a situation in which sacrificing the one for the many was a necessary evil, but burying them alive?  One can’t help but think the youngsters who used this technique for culling the group shouldn’t be given responsibility for a pet. 

Human vs Canine

As I have grown older (I am not yet at an age where the tribe would leave me alone on a desert trail to fend for myself or stick me in a nursing home), my philosophy and attitude toward dogs has evolved in such a way that it may be subject to ridicule by some pragmatics in our society.  When my dog passed away I kept the extent of my grief largely

Ruby, forever young, died suddenly
from liver failure at 8 years old.

to myself, aware that some of my friends and even family would think to themselves, it’s not a child after all.  It’s just a dog.  No, she was not quite a child.  It’s difficult to define how I relate to my companion dogs.  I don’t try much to compare dogs with human children.  Not really less than or more than.  Equal to?  In some ways that feels like comparing apples to oranges.  Yes human children probably pee in the living room quite often, but do they steal your underwear and eat the crotch out of it?  Probably not.  Can your human children join sports teams?  Yes.  But can they catch a tennis ball in their mouth?  Not likely.  And kids always laugh when they pass gas.  My dogs don’t even care.

At the end of the day there are two sides to the story of the abandoned elderly dog.  There are those who cause suffering and those who rescue.  I think Anne Frank said it best:

“In spite of everything I still believe people are really good at heart.”

But maybe dogs are just a tiny bit better.

-Kiki Nusbaumer

http://theweek.com/articles/462230/how-elderly-are-treated-around-world

http://www.dogheirs.com/tamara/posts/5250-update-on-neglected-senior-dog-deemed-too-old-by-former-owners-looking-for-a-new-home

http://newsroom.ucla.edu/stories/jared-diamond-on-aging-150571

www.facebook.com/deafdogsrock

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ach%C3%A9_people

Who's News?

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Tasty nuggets.

The Week of March 29 – April 3

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An odd and cute little cat comic

 

 Dog survives being hit by car, hammer blow, buried alive

Animal Survivors of Sand Springs Tornado

Stray cats get new home at Pendleton Prison

Couple charged with child neglect and animal cruelty

5 years later oil spill still having deadly consequences on wildlife

Stray dogs attend animal lover’s funeral

                                                              

Who you callin' deformed??

  Animal Planet’s New Programming: “We’re about people now.”

Bred to Deformity: How dogs have changed in appearance over 100 years of excessive breeding

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 Tiny bites of it.

 The Week of March 22 - 27

Dog jumps off viaduct, injured, owner search is on

Bright Cat Collars Reduce Bird Kills

Pollution creating hermaphroditic deep ocean fish

Related: Pollution wreaking havoc on frogs

Study shows animals predict earthquakes

Dog missing for month endures much but is home safe

For the Love of Poodles and Pooches Battles Closure Due to Lack of Funds – donations come in after seeing this newscast

 

 Police dog killed by robber inspires new law

Reckless Abandon: The Universal Problem of the Stray Dog

Potcakes

The term potcake sounds like a stress relieving pastry one might have with one’s tea, but it’s the name for stray dogs found on the Caicos and Turks Islands and the Bahamas.  The actual origin of the name has to do with the crust of rice and pea mixture that forms at the bottom of the cooking pot when preparing that meal.  People in the Bahamas would feed these wandering dogs the mixture and the name became so associated with them that it stuck.  Officially the dogs are called the Royal Bahamian Potcake.

There's a magnet for that.

Potcakes are about 45-50 pounds when in good health, have floppy ears and a pronounced snout like a shepherd.  They make great companions when adopted but may have a tendency to wander.  They come in many colors, with short hair.

In New Providence in the Bahamas, there are about 11,000 strays.  According to Wikipedia, 1% of tourists visiting there said they were “turned off” by the dogs.  There’s always that one jerk, isn’t there?  At the time of this writing, the potcake dogs declined to comment on whether the tourist’s pasty body in a Hawaiian print shirt was a turn off.

Efforts to reduce the potcake population have included such extreme measures as having police shoot and poison the stray dogs.  Rescue groups have developed to tackle the issue, including Potcake Place http://www.potcakeplace.com/home

A little Sato family stayed close to us as
we camped on the beach in Puerto Rico.

Satos

I spent some time on the beach in Puerto Rico with a little tribe of stray dogs.  They were of various sizes and shapes.  They were friendly and affectionate, but they all seemed rather washed out as if bleached by the sun, making their sad, dark eyes stand out like polished onyx.  Their coats were dry and brittle and flecked with dandruff.

It is estimated there could be a million strays in Puerto Rico and there are accompanying rescue groups trying to mitigate the problem.  All Sato Rescue http://allsatorescue.org is one.  On their site they have some action items the public can take on to help, including making complaints to the tourism department, a valuable aspect of the Puerto Rican economy, for a humane solution to the problem.  In these overwhelmed communities, though, I shudder to think of the options.

Another issue is the shipping of strays from other territories and countries directly to the United States.  A dog breeder critic of mine who was unhappy with what Who Rescued Who?® stands for (simply the adoption of homeless animals with the philosophy that when one rescues an animal it often rescues you right back), pointed out that he does “not support the ‘throwaway’ society that promotes and glamorizes the ‘saving of poor unloved dogs’ that irresponsible breeding and importation of foreign dogs to US shelters produce.” Does he have a point?  I mean, no doubt he’s kind of a tool, but is shipping dogs here a bit like putting a used bandage on someone else’s wound?  We are not a kill free country so there must be a better answer and it boggles great minds.

In her blog entry, Dr. Barbara J. King, Chancellor Professor of Anthropology at the College

Little Sato at sunset.

of William & Mary, describes the dynamic between homeless men and dogs on the beaches of Puerto Rico.  She describes them as “cross-species interactions.”  The men and dogs gather together by night.  The men protect the dogs from removal sweeps by authorities.  By day they go their own ways, but each night gather again into these protective huddles to sleep or at least spend time until daybreak.

There are spay and neuter voucher programs in Puerto Rico, but the need is so great they are simply overwhelmed.  And if people cannot afford to put food on the table, how could they entertain the feeding and vet bills of a dog?  Dr. King’s blog addresses the problems of humans and animals as interlaced, calling for compassionate solutions to these issues with all beings in mind.

Soi Dog (Street Dog)

In Bangkok, Thailand, it is estimated there are over 120,000 stray dogs.  Buddhist principles come into play against euthanasia, but the practice of turning a dog out into the street for natural forces to take over is practiced regularly.

Prior to major events in the community, great roundups occur in which they gather up dogs by the thousands and send them to shelters, or animal quarantine centers out of sight and mind.  Efforts by the government to solve the problem by way of requiring pet owners to register and microchip their dogs and fining owners if their animals are found wandering, backfired miserably.  These punitive methods cause non-compliance because in order to avoid fines, people under stress simply abandon their animals.

Historically, attaching fees or penalties to dog ownership increases the stray problem in that area.

A rescue organization trying to help is Soi Dog Rescue: https://www.soidog.org

Tammie Stevens, (The Lazarus Fund, Billy Fish Books) 
providing solace and rescue to dogs in Bundi, India.

Pariah Dogs

Initially this was a generic term for a wandering, scavenging dog.  However, the Indian Pariah Dog refers to a rust colored, dingo-like dog prominent in South Asia.  This dog has risen in status and is accepted as an increasingly desirable breed, with its sharp, intelligent eyes and pointy ears.

India has the highest number of strays in the world. Millions of people are attacked and bitten each year with some estimates of the resulting rabies death rate as high as 35,000 people annually.  Walking your dog in India is rather like walking a chunk of beef jerky on a stick.  Family dogs are surrounded and killed as their humans helplessly watch, unable to fight off the marauding canines.  Needless to say, the problem is vexing.  

Addressing the human/animal cohabitation issue, Arpan Sharma, chief executive of the Federation of Indian Animal Protection Organizations told New Delhi Journal reporter Gardiner Harris, “The first thing you need to start doing to reduce the stray population is manage your garbage better.”

Hindus oppose the killing of many animals, removing the euthanasia option for much of the population.  Proponents of euthanasia point to the fact that people should be able to walk the streets without fear of attack and death.

It’s a quandary, and a universal one.

Dogs

Conversely, in Holland, there is no stray dog problem, so we didn’t know what to call this section.  “Dogs” will have to suffice.  They have dogs, but not a problem.  There are no “Wooden Shoe” dogs begging for porridge or feral “Windmill Dogs” being a nuisance by chasing grazing sheep around.

In a detailed paper on the subject (link below), Isabelle Sternheim reveals how Holland is nearly completely stray free.

Like India, Holland had a stray dog problem that resulted in rabies outbreaks.  In the 1800's many families owned dogs and when they tired of them they were released onto the streets.  Rabies was a call to action and strict muzzle and leash laws were quickly put into place.  Regulations and taxes came into play and failed.  Poverty was the main culprit in the Holland dog problem.

Soon, however, Holland’s elite began to spread the connection between the appearance and health of the dog and the status of the dog’s owner.  Animal welfare began to increase.  Holland ushered in the dog-as-status-symbol in the mid 1860's (forerunner to the chihuahua-in-handbag days of more recent yore).  In 1886 animal abuse became a punishable offense.

Adherence to the culture’s respect of “personal liberties rather than universalism” instilled in the Dutch people a strong acceptance of individual differences among people.  They were, after all, as the author explains, “a small country that had to get by through interaction with other cultures.”  She says that the “empathy and observation” practiced by people of the Netherlands was a survival mechanism that soon became rooted in their collective psyche.  This empathy included a concern for the well being of animals.  Interestingly, Sternheim calls these practices “feminine” elements of their society, and says they are highly valued along with “caring, collectiveness, and separation of work and private life.”

Isabelle Sternheim makes a case for CNVR: Collect, Neuter, Vaccinate and Return.  She argues that even impoverished societies can manage this strategy if used alongside education and registration campaigns.

American Strays

And here in the US we have our collections of problems as well, some of which seem so trivial when held against the global backdrop of the Stray Dog as it relates to humankind, but some that are shared down to the finest detail.  We do our best to encourage our brothers and sisters around the world not to eat dogs, to be kind to animals, but have no solution for starvation and poverty and are often woefully unkind to one another. We so often fall short of practicing what many of us sometimes arrogantly preach.  But there are slivers of light along the way.  Aren't we all just strays anyway, seeking a sense of belonging and security?  Critics attack those bleeding heart dog rescuers as ignoring the human problem, but each grain of sadness is directly connected to the other.  There are enough problems for us to battle together, each using our own special strengths and passions to chip away slowly at the things that plague us.   

-Kiki Nusbaumer

Links in order:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Potcake_dog

http://www.npr.org/blogs/13.7/2014/07/06/328209694/tropical-beach-is-no-paradise-for-stray-dogs

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Street_dogs_in_Bangkok

http://www.billyfishbooks.com/Tammie-Stevens-bio.html
http://straydogscampaign.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/DR_Dutch-Straydogs.pdf

Who's News?

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Little bites of it.  The Week of March 15 - 20.

Elderly couple reunited with their dog after they desperately had to surrender him

Online register for animal abusers heads back to House

Woman saves dog thrown from truck on I-435 Police Search

Follow Up!Two arrested in investigation of dog ties to railroad tracks because she wouldn’t fight “I’m not going to say I have the perfect boys...”  Says their mother, who will support them 100%.  And there you have it.

Helping Korean dog meat farmers make change to agriculture

Happy Birthday Oldest Cat! video

 

Ringling Bros will phase out elephant act by 2018 video

Dogs Listen Better When They’re Loved

Family reunited with dog after 5 years

Searching for owner of German Shepherd held at Miami-Dade Animal Services

Mom dog saves pups from forest fire by digging hole

This you do not want to miss: 

Chick and Chihuahua buds at beach

Amy McCracken and Cheesburger, Another Double Rescue

We were given permission to reprint this story by Amy McCracken, Executive Director at Richmond Animal League (www.ral.org):

(Alyssa was a 14 year old girl who had Cystic Fibrosis and was a beloved friend of Amy McCracken, the Executive Director of Richmond Animal League)

Watching Alyssa die was the hardest thing I have ever done. Despite her incredible bravery and the crazy goodness of her family, it was, in a word, hellish. Floppy (stuffed animal) was under her shoulder the entire time.  Her doll, Sallerina, close by. So many of my friends had become totally invested in her life, and losing her after all she had been through was devastating.

All other staff were at training
that day at Richmond Animal League.

August 2, 2013

I went back to work.  For the first time since coming to work for Richmond Animal League, I was alone at the shelter.  We had an off-site training that everyone was attending and there was not one of our 300 volunteers lurking about.  I was very, very grateful to be there alone.  As amazing and loving as everyone had been to me, I did not want to see or talk to anyone.  I was just sitting at my desk staring at my computer when I realized that the dogs were going nuts. I have no idea how long they were carrying on. I just knew that something wasn’t right.  I went to the door closest to my office and looked in the long skinny glass window to the kennel.  There was a huge white dog standing at the door.  Just standing there.  And the kenneled dogs were so mad.  Huge White Dog wasn’t barking at all. He was just standing there at the door.  I could not see that he was wearing a collar because he is so fluffy.  I was scared of him.  I went over to the clinic and asked a coworker to help me put a loose dog back.  She came over and saw him and said, “Oh, that’s Cheeseburger!  He came in yesterday morning while you were at Alyssa’s funeral.  He’s harmless.” She put him back and locked his kennel.

I sent an email to the staff to please double check that all animals are secure before leaving the kennel.

Five minutes later the dogs were going crazy again.

Again, Cheeseburger was out and standing at the door. Again, I put him back. 

Five minutes later the dogs were going crazy. I have no idea how he unlocked his steel kennel door time and time again.  But he did.

I finally asked him if he had to go outside for a minute.  I put a leash on him and he pulled me right into my office and sat down.  Under my chair.  And then stared at me as if to say, “Don’t mind me.  Get back to work.”

And he stayed there the rest of the day.

Burg was left alone in the house when
the homeowners were evicted.

When my co-worker and our kennel director, Pam, came back I asked where Burg came from.  He had been pulled from Richmond Animal Care and Control (RACC)—that was all she knew.  I called RACC.  They said that Burg and another dog had been left behind in a home after his owners were evicted.  It was a long time before anyone knew that the dogs were there, and they were in rough shape by the time a neighbor complained and animal control discovered them. Burg had come to RAL while I was at Little A's funeral.

I told Cheeseburger that he could stay in my office for the day, but that he was not my kind of dog.

I told Alyssa’s mom and dad about him.  At first they thought maybe Burg was from Alyssa. It didn't take long to know it.

That night, I brought him home just for the night. We talked.  I explained to him that even though he seemed to come in at just the right time, and that maybe Little A did bring him to get me through the weekend, he was not my kind of dog.  He understood.

August 3, 2013

I took him to the neighborhood farmer’s market to find a good home for him.  That’s when I realized that little kids love Burg.  So much.  I wished I had a video camera on my head so that I could have recorded excited little faces charging toward Burg shouting, “So fluffy!  So fluffy!  So flufffffffffffffffffffffffy!”

Fluffy!

I told everyone.  Look at this dog!  He is the perfect dog!  He’s quiet!  He’s gentle!  He’s a thinker!  He loves children.  He doesn’t bark.  He walks great on the leash, and will sleep anywhere.  The shelter opens at noon today!  He’s available! Come by!  He could be all yours today!

After the farmer’s market we went to visit Alyssa (Alyssa’s grave – photos unavailable), and to thank her for not letting either of us be alone for the weekend.

I called the shelter and asked them to call me if anyone had come looking for Burg—and that I would bring him right over if they had.  But no one had, and we ended up back home again.  (He really is smart—even if he doesn’t know what side of the door the knob is on).

Burg was as sad as I was.   I tried to make him feel better.  I even found and printed out this picture from the Internet Machine and tried to rewrite his life story for him.  Tried to pretend that no one ever left him behind.

“Look at you!” I told him.  “Look how cute you were when you were a puppy," I lied to him.  I loved you then and I love you now!  Even though you are not my kind of dog.” 

I’m not sure he bought it, but I think he loved me for the effort. 

The next week he spent his days in my office and his nights at my house.  We talked a lot about Alyssa. 

August 10, 2013

It was Saturday again, and I took Burg back to the farmer’s market.  Everyone was very happy to see him, but sad that he had not been adopted.  I talked him up again.  “He is completely housetrained!  He sleeps until 10:00 a.m. on the weekends and Wednesdays!  He loves to go for a ride in the car!  He eats, but he is not concerned with what you are having.  He is not a licker.  He is a very good listener.  He’s a little sad, but coming around.  He is very independent, but just when you think he might not love you at all, he walks over and sits on your foot.  We open at noon today!  We are located right behind the Martin’s near Chesterfield Towne Center!  Come over!”

Amy and Burg, making it official.

And Burg came over and sat right on my foot.

And I drove to the Richmond Animal League and adopted him.

And good Lord in heaven above was Little A about on the edge of her seat waiting for me to realize that she'd sent Burg, and that we were destined to carry on without her, no matter how impossible it seemed.

So much has happened with Burgie since then. He has amazing friends who have helped him heal in all ways. I'm still convinced Burg misses someone. In fact, I think he misses a whole family. He listens to traffic and I wonder if he is waiting for someone to finally come home. He will sit and watch an entire Little League game, and he pays attention to doors opening wherever we are. I can't think about all of that. I just know how incredibly lucky I am that Burg spends time in my living room, and at the shelter with me, and I will never, ever, take him back to the farmer's market and try to find him a home that I think might be better than ours. Thanks for saving me, Burg.

Author: Amy McCracken, Executive Director, Richmond Animal League