Radio silence

I  haven't said anything this week, but it hasn't been entirely uneventful. 

I think it was Monday or Tuesday I drove over to Staunton to meet someone who brought me Beau.  He's a nice boy, a bit of a wide load, no German Shepherd hunger strike for this guy, he moved in and never even considered skipping a meal. 

I did the standard 1-2 days by himself and then put him in with other dogs and now he's with the dog yard gang.  He's a nice dog, too fat to jump and he hasn't made any serious attempt to get out of the kennel or the dog yard.  He wants to come inside, but going into the shed at night with Luke and Trace has pacified him for now.  He should be moving to another foster home tomorrow.  He's really a good looking dog. 

I guess it was Wednesday or Thursday I drove over to Richmond to meet folks from Annapolis who adopted Babe.  At least I hope they have adopted Babe.  She was shy, sweet, and submissive to everyone here, but apparently she turned into little blonde Cujo when they got her home, even attacking the resident rottie. 

I think she was just scared.  I guess I had her crated the first few days here so she could learn the lay of the land and the personalities of the other residents from a position of safety. 

I hope it will work, they have other dogs and fosters coming and going, so they need a dog who will be good with others.  Anyway, I met the adopters, Beth and Hank, many years ago.  They were volunteers with VGSR at that time and it was probably not long after I started with that organization that we met.  I remember being at an adoption event at the Sterling Petsmart with a difficult shepherd.  I'm not entirely sure which one it was, but it was a female and she was being a complete bitch with all the other dogs.  I must have looked very stressed out or discouraged, probably both.  Beth pulled me aside and said that she had a dog for my girl to meet.  She went out and came back into the store with a chocolate lab named Charlie Brown.  We went down an aisle in the store by ourselves away from the crowd.  Charlie Brown was all smiles and wags, clearly inviting anyone and everyone to play with him.  And my girl (I think maybe it was a Lexie), played with him like they were long lost friends.
 
I needed that because I needed to know that Lexie wasn't a complete bitch who would never be able to get along with any other dog.  Beth sized up the situation at a glance, it seemed, and knew that Charlie Brown was the answer.  Charlie Brown is still around and they still have him.  I suspect he has done the same for many other dogs, and foster parents like me, since that time.

Today I got this email from one of the local shelters that I try to help:

Please meet “Hobby” surrendered this morning by his owners for barking too much. They no longer have time for him so they put him in a pen outside and he wants attention so…—husband was going to shoot him today.

He came with all of his pedigree papers. They bought him 6 years ago for $1,500.

Hobby is an intact male, 8 years of age. He is housebroken but will mark his territory if there is another dog or if guests come in the home (urinated on someone’s luggage). ...  He sits on command and loves hot dogs as treats. He likes to play tug.

We are very full right now (hunting season brings the Hounds!) so if there is any way we could get some assistance with this dog, we would greatly appreciate it.

I'm going to stop on my way home from Gainesville tomorrow and bring him here.
 

That is obviously one of those "I-hate-people" moments, but fortunately it was balanced out by an email from a woman who adopted Dusty from me several years ago.  This is just an excerpt, but she writes:

She is a terrific dog, loyal, loving and oh so happy. She has helped to socialize numerous fear-aggressive (and spoiled) pocket pets in the neighborhood. She has been petted and hugged by swarms of school kids on field trips at our local park and taught them that German Shepherds are not devil dogs just itching to bite small children. She freed me from the tyranny of alarm clocks by reliably rousing me five days a week at 4:32 a.m. if I failed to get up at 4:25 when the coffee maker started. She only missed one day in four and a half years. There are so many other ways in which she has enriched my life.

The timing of this email couldn't have been better.  I always say that we don't do this for the people, we do it for the dogs, and that's true, but the fact is that it's not good for the dog unless it's also good for the person.  When it's good for both, it's great.
 

And then there's this picture of Max, swiped from the Facebook page of his new home.  Max is the lab we thought we were going to do major surgery on.  He's still doing fine, and as you can see, he seems quite content.