08 March 2009

yeah, I was rude



I picked up this rat terrier around Christmas; hence the name "Jingles" (not chosen by me but cute anyhow.) He's an older dog, 5 or 6, right on the border of being "too old" for many people, so he's still not adopted. He's a sweet dog, with a reserved nature.

Yesterday at the adoption event, his foster mom called me over and said,
"These people used to own Jingles!"
A couple stood there with a young child and a baby. Apparently when they walked up, Jingles went nuts, jumped all over the man.
He said, "He looks just like a dog I used to have!"
Deb asked what happened to him, and he said, "He ran off."
I looked at them standing there, looked at Jingles, who by now was standing behind his foster mom with his back to his previous owners, and said "Why didn't you check the dog pound and get him out?"
The man's eyes shifted and he said "We did call! They said they hadn't seen him!"

I call bullshit on that response. If they'd called at all, they would have got their dog back. Unlike some pounds that require you to visit in person every 3 days, this pound knows what dogs they have and what dogs people are looking for, and even if you call during off hours, you can leave a voice mail and they'll call you back. I asked where they live and it's the same town the dog pound is in, so it wasn't even a matter of not knowing to check an adjacent county in case he ended up farther away. No one said anything more and they turned and left.

(Want to bet they came to the event originally to try to adopt a new dog?)

It proves my theory about why so many dogs sit unclaimed in these pounds every week. Half of them were probably dumped off out there by people who believed they had a better chance if they were "turned loose in the country" than if they were left at a shelter or pound. Yeah, a better chance of becoming feral or starving or being hit by a car or injured some other way. Their best chance is if they ARE picked up and end up at the pound. The other half go unclaimed by people who sit around and wait for them to come back or believe they were "stolen" or suspect they might be at the pound but don't call because it's easier to just get a new dog than spend some money saving the one they lost.

Many of these dogs are just like abused children: no matter how bad it was at home or the fact their beloved human tossed them aside like so much trash, what they still want more than anything is to go home. They adjust, sure, or most of them do, but they don't forget just like that. I'd venture a guess most of them would know and forgive their first owners even if their paths crossed years later.

When I got my old dog, Cody, home, I brought him through the back yard and let go of his leash. He immediately turned back to the gate and stood there looking at me as if to say "Thanks for your help. Now can you take me home?"
I said "I'm sorry but you can't go back there. You have to stay with me."
He put his muzzle into the air and let out a long mournful howl, a sound I've never heard him make since, and then seemed to accept his fate, even though it wasn't precisely what he had in mind.
Our old dog, Cody, meets the puppy

(I have never been able to explain exactly why, of all the dogs I see, I had to save Cody. My only explanation is he stood in his kennel every time I was there, just wagging his tail and looking at me as if to say "Well, when am I leaving?" until finally I went back, opened his kennel door and said, "Come on.")

Maybe I should have been nicer. I know I should have asked what his name used to be and how old he really is. It was never an option from my point of view to allow him to go home with them again. He would have been dead if not for me, the rescue who took him in and the people who agreed to foster him. You don't get a second chance when you have so little concern for your dog's life.

In my defense, nearly my whole life is these dogs. Not a week goes by when I'm not forced to leave some nice dog behind to die, and what goes on at the pound I work with happens everywhere, every day. It's not too often I end up face to face with someone who is the reason why, and my initial gut response was "how the hell did you let this happen to him?!"

Jingles will find another loving home, one that values him unconditionally.

06 March 2009

dogs dogs dogs


Wow I've realized this blogging thing has to become a routine but I didn't realize I'd gone this long without updating. It's not like I don't have time exactly. I am online a lot. It's more a matter of what I do with it when I have it, like choosing to read a book rather than mop the floor then complaining my house is never clean.
Anyhow, I haven't stopped rescuing dogs. It's been crazy at the pound for a while now but I've been pretty lucky (or many of the dogs have) and a lot of nice dogs have gotten a second chance.
This puppy was there this week and available to go so rather than leave her in a scary pound to sleep on concrete, I brought her here until I could find someplace for her. Oh man, puppies are way more work than I'm used to and this one seems to be a littermate to some I got from there a few months ago, which means her mom was a Jack Russell terror....er, terrier. And now that she's older I suspect she's mixed with bassett hound too. She's a bundle of cuteness and energy. Her favorite thing seems to be taking flying leaps into my lap when I'm on the computer. She's leaving tomorrow, thank god.