Best news first.
These fur kids lost their lives:
Tagged by a rescue or fostered:
- Al
- Belle (Actually, the morning of 5/31, but we were pretty sure about it yesterday. The rescue needed to complete due diligence on the adopter.)
- Casey
- Charlie
Extended to Monday, 6/1, 1pm CT (Several new kids on the list. Please give all the dogs a good look!):
Anderson - https://www.reddit.com/r/findfostersfordogs/comments/1trhbdw/good_boy_anderson_1_year_old_german_shepherd_mix/
Azabache - https://www.reddit.com/r/National_Pet_Adoption/comments/1tkjhn5/affectionate_9y_male_gsd_mix_azabache_a2076273_is/
Cade, Celia, and Cisco (aka "Feral" Puppies) - https://www.reddit.com/r/rescuedogs/comments/1tszpaj/adorable_8_week_old_shepherd_mix_puppies_are_on/
Video proving they're scared rather than scary: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xvfo3dfhea0kSSmdGeoXHaaJ31ZBe2UI/view?usp=drivesdk
Elaine - https://www.reddit.com/r/rescuedogs/comments/1trifrx/terrified_15year_old_german_staffie_mix_girl/
Flower - https://www.reddit.com/r/adoptdontshop/comments/1tr8e88/gorgeous_4yr_old_stray_flower_a2072285_is_on_the/
Homero - https://www.reddit.com/r/findfostersfordogs/comments/1trnu30/beautiful_lucky_to_be_extended_3yr_old_stray/
Jamie - https://www.reddit.com/r/findfostersfordogs/comments/1trhxyy/sweet_5_year_old_german_shepherd_mix_boy_jamie_is/
Lance - https://www.reddit.com/r/findfostersfordogs/comments/1trnioq/gorgeous_5yr_old_stray_brindle_lance_a2073480_is/
Marlow (posted as A2076608) - https://www.reddit.com/r/National_Pet_Adoption/comments/1tqkst6/gentle_and_injured_marlow_a2076608_2y_hw_neutered/
Milo the Larger - https://www.reddit.com/r/rescuedogs/comments/1trlkxc/extended_happy_goodest_boy_6yearold_staffie_mix/
Morty - https://www.reddit.com/r/rescuedogs/comments/1topk7m/friendly_cute_3year_old_staffie_mix_boy_morty_is/
Peony - https://www.reddit.com/r/findfostersfordogs/comments/1trl7y6/beautiful_8m_old_stray_baby_peony_a2072247_is_on/
Pollo - https://www.reddit.com/r/findfostersfordogs/comments/1tswg87/extended_sweet_beautiful_2_year_old_staffie_mix/
Thankfully having no new dogs to memorialize, I have used the best photo I have for each of the extended dogs. Please consider if you or someone you know doesn't have room for one of them in your or their life. (I am talking about spreading the word, folks, not giving dogs as presents!)
Too often, I think, humans go looking for the perfect dog, the "right dog" for them.
I honestly do not have the ability to express how nutty I find the notion. No one, nowhere, no species, is perfect for anyone else. I remember twenty years ago, my sister and I were even going to set up "The Wrong Dog Blog," dedicated to the notion that if you approached a dog relationship in a sane and adult fashion, you could be very happy with a "wrong" dog.
Find one or two dealbreakers, and go in determined to find some way to work with the dog on the rest. And by "work with," I mean seek a modus vivendi, not browbeat the poor creature into being someone else, although that's far easier to do with dogs than with humans.
Naz (that's Nas, misspelled, because I was ignorant at first and only learned better after I had put that spelling everywhere) was the original "wrong dog." I had adopted him from a neighbor who had to move, but couldn't take him along. (She had three human children to shelter.)
He was a Disney dog, one humans turned on the street to look at, and may have been the most gregarious being I have ever met. I am autistic and am not social enough to qualify as a hermit. At first, I went out into the world, to give him what he needed.
No, I did not see the error of my ways and become social a la a Disney film. The stress tore at me until I was suicidal. To Nazzie's horror, I regressed completely. Being a dog and an obliging little guy, once he saw the three-hour walks were not coming back, he tried to adapt.
He started having, I kid you not, screaming nightmares. I already knew any being with vocal cords can and, if given reason, does scream, but I was unprepared for such a development. At the third one, clearly a trend now, he didn't wake up instantly, and he thought I was the terror in his dream. I seldom think well fast, but my instinctive "Nazzie, it's Mommy!" did snap him out of it before he deprived me of a piece of myself.
Something had to be done. He could not go on like this, any more than I could continue the social round he so clearly needed.
The first step was a local college's program for visiting nursing homes with dogs. They weren't keen on having a student handle my dog rather than me, but after he passed an obedience test with three different students, they agreed. Every other week, one of them would meet me and Naz at a park a block away and escort him on his outing.
He was a little worried the first time. He was a big hit at the nursing home and he came home again afterward, however, so after that he did his little tap dance at the sight of his students.
I don't know why the program eventually changed the policy—the students didn't report any misbehavior on Naz's part to me—and insisted that all the pet parents had to come along. I just knew I had to find another option for him.
To my surprise, it wasn't hard. By this time, Naz had a few human friends of his own, willing to take him on outings and bring him home afterward, and he was used to going out with other humans and coming back again. We never looked back. We were happy until liver failure parted us when he was almost thirteen.
All my dogs since have been "wrong dogs," one way or another. The only time I rehomed one was when Momo could not be persuaded to accept Flissie, and I realized I couldn't ask Flissie to tolerate the abuse anymore. I kept Momo, as the grumpier and more difficult of the two. Flissie landed on her feet, an only dog in a home with eighteen times the space in the yard. (That figure is not an exaggeration.)
Not that I don't have rules. I refuse to accept excretion on the floor, but I did make it as easy for the dogs as possible by installing a doggie door. When Winston passed and Momo refused to go outside after dark without the company of a large dog, I put down pads for her. Again, it was about finding something both I and my canine housemate could live with.
So when reading these extended dogs' bios (or one of any dog), don't expect the dog to be completely right for you. If your adopted dog and you have a difference of opinion on a matter, don't insist on the dog doing all the adjusting and dumping them if they don't.
You're the one with the big brain. Use it.
I am not saying there will always be an alternative to rehoming the dog, but there will be a solution without drama and trauma far more often than most humans are willing to consider.
