Shelter Dogs (9) Tyson

Tyson was in the kennel for perhaps three months. He was a most handsome Terrier/Pit Bull mix, tall and lean. His coloring was a dramatic brindle/white. Tyson bounded high in his cage when I approached and prepared to take him out. We went to class together several times and he was always well behaved. For a big, rather fierce looking dog Tyson was gentle - afraid of the sound of tumbling in a nearby clothes dryer. With Tyson I repeated and emphasized to myself that I needed to employ a high level of personal emotional control when dealing with all these animals. He was going to get adopted. Adoptions are happy moments - an excited dog leaves the kennel with a happy new owner for a "forever home". I was treating adoptions as a personal loss. So with this fine animal I was absolutely determined to be more controlled, cool and detached. Happily Tyson was adopted by a young man who's own dog had died six months earlier. He was now going to return to Ohio with his new, handsome dog. But as for me I felt miserable. The next day gloomily looking into his empty cage and I felt like quitting. But then a few cages away, loudly demanding attention with a high pitched bark was a powerful, midsize Pit Bull named Emmitt.  And so it goes.

 In June 2010 Emmitt's young playmate at Satchel's Last Resort was adopted. In October Emmitt was adopted.

Shelter Dogs (8) Bronx

Most dogs at Humane Society of Sarasota County I do not get to know very well - there are many and the adoption rate is quite high. Except for some recent construction that slowed things down some, the turn over of dogs is impressive. Outreach efforts by HSSC spur the adoption possibilities. One Saturday morning (February 2010) I volunteered to help out at the Adventure Land Park at Lakewood Ranch. I was assigned to look after Bronx a newly received Dachshund. So we got acquainted and I walked the little guy around on a leash while he politely investigated the local bushes, a few cars and several shiny pickup trucks. But for most of the four hours Bronx was content to sit on my lap, eat snacks and join me in watching the local festivities. We both had a pleasant day and he was adopted a few days later.

Shelter Dogs (7) Emmitt concluded

Two days later I learned that Emmitt had been accepted at Satchel's Last Resort, an animal sanctuary with adoptable dogs. A fine, young woman at Satchel's also knew and liked Emmitt from her previous work at HSSC. She paved the way for his admission with the help of HSSC's manager. The following Sunday morning I made an appointment and drove over to Satchel's Last Resort. Emmitt and I walked, he ate snacks, and we played a game of "stomach scratch". I measured him at the shoulders - he was 17 or 18 inches tall (I am fabricating - he was 20 inches at the shoulder). My condo association allows owners "one small animal . . . up to 14 inches at the shoulder". Next I met Emmitt's regular playmate, a three month old Sheperd/Pit mix (perhaps). She was a beautiful, beige dog that loved to run and then wrestle with him. (I hoped she wasn't a tart.) I left a bag of rawhide chews for all the guys and a small contribution towards Emmitt's upkeep. As I was walked to my car I heard Emmitt barking and turned around. He was standing at the fence barking after me with his playmate standing by his shoulder. There is always the chance that he will be adopted by a good person. But if not there remains the question for me of who will be responsible for Emmitt's "spirit". As these notes suggest I shall remember him, this playful dog with the broad chest. But if per chance in the future I should meet Emmitt's waiting spirit, I shall happily scratch his stomach and take him with my old dog Swede and a small guinea pig - Jay, and together pass into that good night. As I wrote earlier, personal emotional management is extremely important in dealing with these dogs. Happily I am managing mine quite successfully - I think, maybe.

Shelter Dogs - (7) Emmitt continued.

photo by emileefuss.com

I left Emmitt and went to a meeting of K-9 Coaches and the staff behaviorists. At these meetings the HSSC dogs were evaluated. I was attending for the first time and just listened. First order of business - Emmitt was to be removed - he had been evaluated by the behaviorists as simply too dangerous. It was felt that staff were at risk everytime they tried to deal with him. Emmitt an "outside" dog had been in the kennel now for about eight months. Perhaps "kennel stress" was effecting his behavior. As the father of a daughter who had been face bitten by a dog and required plastic surgery I understood the concerns perfectly. But Emmitt was also my friend and I fely myself sliding into a deep gloom. Leaving the meeting I was emotionally relieved that I had at least walked back down the aisle to give Emmitt a last treat.

On the way out of the HSSC that afternoon I found a half dozen people gathered in the lobby to cheer and say goodbye to Elsie. A gentle, twelve year old, nondescript black and white - the only word that seems to fit Elsie is "mutt". To the immense pleasure of all, Elsie had been adopted. The staff/volunteers had bathed, brushed and scented her with baby powder. Elsie's claws had been trimmed and she received a new collar and neckerchief. Her travel bag included her toys and tennis balls. Good luck Elsie.

Shelter Dogs - (6) Jasper, (7) Emmitt

On May 18th, 2010, I took Jasper to obedience class, our second together. We spent about an hour together before class just kind of "hanging out" and enjoying the AC in the training room. Jasper had only been in the kennel for a couple of weeks. He was a 60 pound German Sheperd/Pit mix, beige colored with yellow eyes. He was also young, two years old and still acting at times like a puppy. In class Jasper was brilliant - one drill required that he walk, stop and sit rapidly on command ten times. Jasper did it so flawlessly that the other eight handlers applauded him. After class, very pleased with him (and myself) I took him out for his final walk, a "wiz" and a delicious snack. Then I returned him to his cage.

As I was putting Jasper away I heard loud barking at the end of the pod. There was Emmitt, a beige combination of American Pit Bull and Abraham's tank behind the fence in the common yard. Emmitt and I had gone to class at least three times and he was a great dog, friendly and obedient - he liked to roll around and play. His favorite game was to rollover on his back, kick all paws like a puppy and have me scratch his stomach. It was all fun. But within the past week Emmitt had flashed his impressive teeth at a staff member and ended up in the quarantine section. Pleased to see him I went down the aisle and gave my good friend a half dozen hot dog chunks. I walked back up the aisle and was about to leave when I heard Emmitt bark again. So I trudged back to him and gave him another snack.

Shelter Dogs - (5) Snickers

Snickers had the last cage at the end of a pod (February 2010). She was a beige, German Shepherd/Pit Bull mix and very reactive to other dogs. The first time I took her out of her cage and started up the aisle towards the door, Snickers growled, barked and snapped at every dog on the way out. All the dogs responded and an ear aching bedlam ensued. I would take Snickers to school several times but it was at the second class that she paid me the finest compliment she had to bestow. Snickers, the snarling "I can whip any dog in this kennel" of our first meeting became my gentle, snack devouring companion. Snickers obeyed every command, completed every exercise and together we watched in baffled disbelief as other dogs would occasionally challenge each other. Snickers was having such a pleasant relaxed evening that with dogs very close on either side she casually rolled over on her back and exposed her stomach for me to scratch. Snickers was saying that this was a fine evening and that she knew that nothing bad could possibly happen to her while she was with me. Snickers was adopted and I know nothing else about this fine dog.

Shelter Dogs, (4) Cooley

September 2009 - I rather cautiously took Cooley out of his cage. There was a chain leash hanging on the fence door to be used when walking him. Cooley was a sleek, Black Lab/Pit mix. He had a white patch on his chest and a four inch scar on his head. I had learned that several of the handlers had stopped taking him out because once outside the cage he immediately grabbed the leash with his great jaws and happily tried to tear it away or drag you down the aisle. To Cooley this was a wonderful game but to the handler a struggle. Cheering the action every other dog on the row would begin barking. The first time I took him out there was a battle and a Homeric test of wills, but we would finally make it outside. There we hit it off very well and I made him a member of my gang of six. The next evening I had to decide upon a dog to take to manners/obedience class. Somewhat hesitantly I decided to take Cooley. As I took him into the training room the instructor Christine met me at the door. Cooley is a very reactive she warned. Should I take him back and get another? No she said "but beware, keep him focused on you". So I spent the hour totally focused on Cooley and shoving Ballpark snacks into those black jaws. In response Cooley was focused on me - he became my dog that evening. He did everything I requested, he was not reactive. In fact Cooley and I enjoying snacks, watched with bemused amazement as other dogs and handlers had issues of action and reaction. We won two obedience competition drills. It was a very fine evening. I took Cooley to class once a week over the next six weeks. During this time the chain leash was no longer necessary. In fact I worried that the chain hanging on his cage made Cooley seem an outlaw and less adoptable. So one day I simply removed it. Two days later, on a Monday - I went to his cage and it was empty. Cooley had been adopted. I should have been pleased but I badly missed him - and as I write this piece well over year later I still think of him and hope he is being treated well.

Shelter Dogs, (3) Heidi

Heidi however, was the first shelter dog with which I fell in love. She was a black and yellow German Shepherd with a dash of Doberman. Heidi was beautiful, friendly and I thought we were hitting it off very well. We had our picture taken together. Then one day (March 2009) I tried to take Heidi out of her cage but she refused to come. She acted fearful and almost ashamed. Dejected I went on to another dog. Within two days Heidi was adopted and her picture with the new owner appeared among those on the bulletin board. I was outright jealous. Nearly a year later I learned that Heidi during those days had nipped someone and the behaviorists were trying to figure out how to reclassify or more ominously remove her from the kennel. With Heidi under a cloud and deeply concerned about her future another HSSC volunteer stepped up and adopted her. He was also in love with Heidi.

Shelter Dogs - (2) Diva

On the afternoons I visit the kennels I try to work with five or six dogs - a "gang of six". The purpose is to get as many dogs as personal energy allows, out for some exercise, training and to simply fuss over. Seeing several animals also allows me to spread my emotions out and prevent over attachment to any single dog. Effective management of emotions I have discovered is a continuing issue in dealing with "shelter" dogs. For instance I was attracted to Diva because she looked like my deceased dog Swede - somewhat. Diva was a midsize Chow/Husky mix and sandy colored. She was reasonably friendly but suspicious. I tried periodically to brush out her thick hair, but unlike Swede she tolerated it only briefly. Diva was adopted, had her hair clipped short by her new owner and looked very good in a follow up photo sent to HSSC. Diva was a fine dog and I did miss her.

START - Shelter Dogs and Me - (1) Diezel

Late in 2008 the pleasure I had derived from doing income taxes on a volunteer basis faded away - friends say I came to my senses. So in December I began the training for volunteer work with dogs at the Humane Society of Sarasota County. What follows are observations about some of the dogs that became my friends and whom I shall not forget.

During my "shadowing" period (i.e. training and observation) there were a few dogs - the Pit Bull mixes - that while not exactly frightening, certainly made me wary. HSSC has Pit mixes that have been rescued or surrendered in abundance. Except for giving them snacks through the wire, I stayed away from them for a couple of weeks. Then one afternoon Diezel accepted the snack I offered him through the wire with a remarkable gentleness. In response I opened his cage, stuck my hand in and attached the leash. Diezel was a bulky, 80 pound, white and black Pit/Terrier mix with the distinctive pink nose. Once out of the cage Diezel powered his way down the aisle with me flailing in his wake. Out in one of the penned-in areas we played around and got to know each other. He enjoyed my snacks - small chunks of Ballpark hot dogs that were cooked in the microwave. At one point after I sat down Diezel came over and simply threw his head on my lap. Drooling profusely he opened his jaws and pleaded "more delicious snacks please". As I dropped pieces of frankfurter into that cavernous abyss my wariness of Pit Xs as more threatening than other breeds ended. I remain wary of all strange dogs. But in fact Pits, intelligent, eager to please, are now among my favorite dogs. Diezel was adopted days after our first meeting.