There are more dogs than homes and in our throw-away culture dogs get pitched like trash. I just read about someone sending his 6 year old dog to a shelter because it was a hunting dog and he was giving up hunting. Imagine the shock of being part of a family, even peripherally, and then one day, for no reason you can understand, ending up in a shelter behind a fence with a cement floor, surrounded by dozens of sad, scared animals.
There's nothing I hate more than going to an animal shelter. And I hate a lot of things. I've done it, but it's so hard to go home with just one. There are eyes I've looked into for only seconds who haunt me years later. I can only hope that they eventually found their forever home. I give huge props to the workers, volunteers and rescuers who see this every day.
What's worse is that these dogs are the luckier ones. At least, for the time that they are there, they are safe and have food and water. There's no such thing as a good death for a healthy animal, but at least it is quick and hopefully painless and they don't slowly starve to death or die wounded or mangled and alone.
My husband and I are the lucky humans of two rescues. Yes, I am one of those dog nuts who doesn't call myself an owner. Even though I have the control as far as human laws go, they own me every bit as much as I own them.
Shimmy, the latest addition to our family is a pitbull. We were only going to foster her until she found her forever home. Technically, I suppose that's what happened. It's just that her forever home turned out to be with us. Because of this, by my husband's orders, I am no longer allowed to foster until I "retire" and "buy a house in the country". (we'll see)
Shimmy was rescued by a the wonderful Adore-a-Bull group in Cincinnati when she was pregnant and about to be put to sleep in a shelter, puppies and all. She had 10 pups and 8 survived and this wonderful network of people took care of her and them and got all but one adopted out so far. We took her sight unseen on their word that she was "mellow" and a "good dog".
She's what they call a "pocket pittie". Bred at way too young of an age, her growth was stunted. I find that to be an attractive feature, actually, because even at her small size, she's really strong. I am barely stronger and if she's really motivated it takes my full weight to hold her back. She is really motivated by things like squirrels, birds, and other dogs.
Things went less than smoothly at first. I knew she'd been spayed, but I didn't realize she was spayed just days before I got her. My two males, a large boxer mix and tiny maltese, tried to greet her in typical doggie butt-sniffing fashion but she was feeling a bit sensitive and protective of those parts and didn't respond in a friendly, welcoming way. She snapped at my maltese and scared the beegeezus out of him. It was weeks before he'd go anywhere near her again.
Even worse, she arrived two days before I was set to dogsit my son's dogs for a weekend. Shimmy and his female, Josie, took an instant dislike to each other, resulting in Josie getting bitten in the eye and Shimmy being pinned and almost getting her throat torn out. Neither Josie nor my son have completely gotten over the insult. I had to keep the two females separated all weekend.
On the other hand, Shimmy and his male, Bonzai, made instant friends and spent the weekend wrestling and playing like long lost soul mates.
Her pregnancy took a lot out of her. She was scrawny and perpetually hungry. The first few days she was very food aggressive. Even after she'd eaten, if she heard the other dogs in the kitchen, she'd race in there to chase them away from the food. As she began to learn that there was always going to be food available, she mellowed out. First she'd run and check to make sure there was still food in the other bowls and then she'd let them eat. Within a week she'd even let them eat when she was in the room. They still play musical bowls because she's convinced that the very same food must taste better out of a bowl that someone else is slobbering in, but we haven't had a food fight in weeks.
As with most rescues, Shimmy started out as a suck-up. Rescued dogs come to a strange home where they don't know their place in the pack or the routines of the house. They are as clingy and needy as a human toddler. I had a crate in the basement with comfortable blankets and pillows for her. The first few nights she'd bark for an hour or so before settling down. In the morning I'd have a crate full of diarrhea to clean up. I feel really bad about this now. Back then, she rarely barked at all. I cringe to think how stressed she must have felt to bark as long as she did. We ended up switching sleeping arrangements, so she could sleep in the crate next to Bear and the maltese could come back to the bedroom with us. It made all the difference.
It took my husband awhile to warm up to her. Admittedly, she was kind of homely. First off, she was scrawny, she'd lost half her hair, she had floppy bat ears, and her long toes made her look like she had chicken feet. She reminded me of the golem from Lord of the Rings. I was waiting her for her to lisp, "my precioussssss" any second. Her underbite makes her look like she is always frowning and the effect is exacerbated by her hanging jowls. The skin around her lips and nose is pink, making her look like she's wearing light pink clown make-up. And she was confused and nervous and looked worried all the time.
He also complained that she didn't have much personality.
Have you ever noticed that some dogs have the personalities of young children while others are like mopey teenagers? Some dogs are just dogs. Shimmy seemed to fall into the latter category.
