I adopted two rescue dogs: part 1FamilyPet
Our dogs, Charlie Brown (pictured) and his littermate, Cooper, didn’t come from a brick-and-mortar shelter. They were transported to Massachusetts from Tennessee as nearly newborn puppies, along with their other six siblings and their mama dog, Kate, three days before Christmas in 2011. A wonderful organization, Great Dog Rescue of New England, arranged for their rescue from a high-kill shelter in Tennessee.
The little family had been supposedly found in an abandoned house that was about to be torn down. The now legendary story is that a worker was doing a final check on a house that was to be condemned and demolished. As he was going around room-to-room, he heard a squeaking noise and discovered Kate and her pups in a closet. He scooped them all up, and surrendered them to a shelter, thinking he was doing a good deed. Unfortunately, as most of us in New England know, “shelters” in the deep south are almost certain to be so-called “high-kill” facilities. The name shelter is definitely a misnomer in this case!
The paperwork we received for Charlie Brown, whom we adopted in January of 2012, said that he was born on 11-11-11! Cool, right? I saw Charlie Brown on Great Dog Rescue’s Facebook page, and showed the picture to my significant other. We had lost our beloved hound dog, Hector, very suddenly and shockingly only five months before, and were still reeling from the loss. Neither of us was ready for another dog, nor was Hobie, our faithful Lab/Shepherd mix, then 12 years old. But, we wanted to do something in Hector’s honor, and we could afford to help a needy dog, so, the next thing you know, we were filling out an application. The sad news came back that someone had beat us to it, and Charlie Brown would not be ours. We asked if any of the other littermates were available instead. The answer was no, they had all been adopted. The agent casually mentioned that we should check back in about two weeks, just to be sure, as sometimes adoptions don’t work out, for whatever reason.
Our busy lives went on. We enjoyed our time with Hobie as the lone dog, and our three cats. We missed Hector like crazy.
One morning, I decided to just check in with the rescue agent as she had suggested, thinking nothing would come of it. To my surprise, she said she was just about to call me, that Charlie Brown’s adoption had fallen through, and he was still looking for a home! Then ensued a home visit to check us out, a questionnaire about our work schedules and so forth, and a trip up to the New Hampshire border, where Charlie was living with his foster mom. I adopted Charlie Brown almost sight-unseen. I had no intention of saying no, even though I was given the opportunity. I spent maybe 15 minutes with him and the foster family’s other pets, signed the papers, put him in the car, and made the long trek back home.
The first night, Charlie slipped through the one, and only, hole in the fence, and was trotting around the front yard; ate a piece of rusty metal; and vomited it all up on the leather furniture. I thought, “Now, I’ve done it. He has been poisoned, is going to die, and I will be banished from ever adopting another pet from a shelter or rescue!” I slept on the couch, with Charlie Brown on my tummy all night. The next day, he was fine. For the next several months, this dog challenged me at every turn. I’ve had dogs all my life, but this one has been my biggest challenge so far. Things were about to get even more interesting. Check back tomorrow for an update!
(to be continued)