When the first homeless stray came into my life asking to be adopted, I didn’t read his nonverbal language. I wasn’t into Dogs yet. He came to us during an outdoor dawn Mass at a park during the Christmas season. I had with me my favorite Dalmatian.
After the Mass, I went to an outdoor café for breakfast. The friendly Dog followed us. I chose a table along a low divider and guided the other Dog to sit on the outside.
That friendly Dog’s demeanor began to bother me. Did he want to go home with me? But I didn’t know how to introduce Dogs to each other. I sorely wished I had learned this earlier.
When I opened the back door of my vehicle for my Dog to hop in, I saw the friendly Dog from the right side mirror.
He was pawing at the front passenger door on the other side. He wanted to enter, too. I wanted to welcome him in. But I didn’t know how to handle his arrival at my house. There might be a fight.
Finally, I steeled my heart, closed the doors, backed out my vehicle, and drove away. I was filled with guilt and regret.
Sometimes they have a sixth sense of knowing that something might happen to them. They come to you. Then you turn them down.”
A HARD GUILT TO LIVE DOWN
The next time my Dog behaviorist-mentor Fred Alimusa (1953-2012) was in town, I told him about the friendly Dog. Fred said he knew how I felt. He related mowing the front lawn of his house in Thailand when a German Shepherd came to him to make friends. But he was too busy to pay him any attention.
A week later when his work was finished, he sought out that German Shepherd. He was too late. The city pound had picked him up.
“I know the guilt,” he said. “Sometimes they have a sixth sense of knowing that something might happen to them. They come to you. Then you turn them down.”
THE MAKING OF A DOG RESCUER
A year or two later, a four-month-old Pup came peering through the grills of our gate, arousing my Dogs’ excitement. I looked out of the house and saw him. A Puppy! What future does he have?
Nothing could stop me anymore. I finally understood the language, loud and clear. The Pup was asking for a home. I was going to give it to him.
This is the story of Lucky (check out “My first lucky rescue” in this magazine’s September-October 2024 issue).
Fortunately, since he was young and friendly, Lucky was easily welcomed by my Dog pack.
IT’S JUST A SUGGESTION, GUYS. BEND THE RULES.
I learned that Dogs are naturally territorial. You can’t just bring in any new Dog to their source of food and shelter. They will defend it.
You must work with their instincts. Find a neutral territory which no Dog claims possession over (a parking lot, outside a church or school, a public park, etc). Bring your Dog pack to that neutral territory. Introduce each other to some playtime. When the relationships are established, everybody can go home, the new Dog included.
But how can you apply this method of introduction if you have many Dogs? (Six dogs? Six leashes? How many cars? How many dog walkers?)
One day, it happened. A friend rehomed a Dog to me. I drove home that night with the Dog riding in a wire cage in the back of my vehicle. I still had my six Dogs at home. But I only had one helper. Could we take all six to meet the new Dog at the church parking lot in the next street?
When I got home, I bent the rules.
I set the wire cage in the driveway and walked away to see what would happen. My resident Dogs crowded around the cage of the new Dog sniffing him over and over. The new Dog peed in fear. He was experiencing a sudden separation from his old home, then suddenly, here were strange Dogs hovering over him and studying him.
But he was in a cage. Nobody could touch him.
I left them alone to work this out. Before I knew it, I saw my six Dogs back inside the house lounging around as if nothing had happened. That fast?
I went out and noticed the new Dog was in relaxed mode, too. I carefully opened the wire cage. He stepped out. My six Dogs appeared behind me and welcomed the newcomer into their pack.
I had done my job. I had given him a happy life. I didn’t say goodbye. I said to Lucky, “Thank you for staying.”
NO GOODBYES FOR LUCKY
I didn’t say goodbye to Lucky when I left for work that day. In the Dog world, that’s not bad manners. Dogs don’t like it when they see you leave them behind. They fall into depression and get anxious. They don’t know if you will come back. They wait by the window or try to escape to follow you.
That’s why they’re wild with joy when you return. It’s the highest point of their lives. But while I was gone that day, Lucky didn’t wait for me anymore. He died of his illness peacefully.
Lucky was the first Dog I picked up from the streets as a mangy and starving four- month-old Pup in 2014. He lived with us for 10 years.
When he died after Christmas in 2024, I stood in front of my house and looked at the kind of life I gave him. Lucky was with us when I moved into my new (more Dog-friendly) house in the hills. He was three years old then. I gave Lucky my home – his fur-ever home – where he found peace and safety. He enjoyed unlimited walks, playmates, homemade Dog food all his life, training sessions, trike rides for fun, and plenty of human company.
I had done my job. I had given him a happy life. I didn’t say goodbye. I said to Lucky, “Thank you for staying.”
