Becoming Best Friends

May 27, 2009 -

A co-worker here at PetSmart just added a new pup to her pack. My fellow associate, who I'll call Melissa because that's her name, had her heart set on a rescuing a Dachshund when she headed down to Maricopa Animal Control. She came back with a little guy who prances, is white in the face and has teeth pointing in every direction. His name is Oscar.

Oscar promptly set about thanking Melissa for springing him by peeing all over her new house and crying loudly anytime she is more than two inches away from him. Melissa met me in my cube, Oscar in tow, shortly after adopting him to lament the situation but wrapped up the conversation with a pretty clear plan for rehabilitating the little guy and figuring things out.

Listening to Melissa, panicked yet determined at the same time and dying for someone to tell her she did the right thing rescuing a senior dog who needed a small fortune in dental work, brought back so many memories. I had gone through something very similar with my very own Honey Pie and though I'm filled with pride at how far she's come when I look back now, the "Trials and Tribulations of Honey Pie" period of my life isn't so far gone that I've forgotten any of it.

When I first met Honey Pie, I couldn't quite get a handle on her story, but it involved spending four years in a shelter in southern Arizona (four years!) and only 6 months in a home with Pet Parents who decided to return her to the same place. Nevertheless, at first glance, her small stature and quiet demeanor made me think she'd fit right in with me and Ollie.

At home, she was shy, hardly peed or pooped outside let alone inside, slept most of the day and preferred to be in her crate. Well, that was the case for about a week anyway. Then, the honeymoon ended.

If I had to sum up all of issues that began manifesting, I would say Honey Pie lacked life experience (which made sense, considering she'd spent the bulk of her life in a shelter). Accordingly, everything scared her - people, other dogs and just about any sound. Really - any noise at all sent her running in the opposite direction from the one in which Ollie and I were walking. And "running" doesn't quite capture the momentum with which Honey Pie tried to get away - so much as a car door closing would have her clawing at the ground, choking herself on the lead, using every cell of her being to just get away.

She also learned how to break out of her kennel and did frequently, but only to poop on my living room carpet before returning to it. (I wish I could say that arriving home to the magic of a dog who can somehow poop in the house and remain locked in a kennel at the same time made me laugh. At the time, it did not.)

In response, I worried, I wondered if I'd done the right thing adopting her, I questioned her happiness and I sacrificed some of my own. But in the midst of it all, I did something else: I signed Honey Pie up for some in-home sessions with a local animal behaviorist. She assured me that, with a lot of dedication, good information, faith, love and treats, Honey Pie could be turned around. And she was right.

Today, Honey Pie is about as close to easy-going as I think she'll ever be. While loud noises still make her flinch, we've built a bond that keeps her by my side in the face of fear rather sending her fleeing. She's recently discovered the joy of plush toys and hasn't had an accident in the house in months. Her tail stands at its most confident 'straight up position' when she's among her pack.

As for me, well I feel like I've grown tremendously as a Pet Parent, learned more than I ever thought I'd know about dog behavior, and, despite the fact that she was almost five when I adopted her, I absolutely had a hand in raising in Honey Pie. When I really sit down and think about how far she's come, I'm also pretty inspired by her bravery in the face of fear and her ability to trust despite the unknown.

I feel pretty confident that Oscar and Melissa will pretty soon be in a similar situation. But I know the getting there's tough. In the meantime I try to convince Melissa that it will all be fine. But I guess the only real assurance I can offer is the one most folks who've rescued a pet already know - in the end, it's all so totally worth it, isn't it?

--Cat