Fostering - An investment that paid
major dividends.
by Rick Snyder,
GSR-SP volunteer & foster dad
My
wife and I had been in contact with GSR-SP for years, first adopting a
German Shepherd through them, then volunteering at events, and then
adopting another. We wanted to do more, though, and after hearing about
a shortage of foster homes, we decided that this was an important way
we could help the organization. It seemed so painfully unjust, to think
of the clock relentlessly ticking away on a good dog in a crowded
shelter with nowhere to go, and we wanted to help.
Major,
showing some ribs when
we first brought him home from the shelter.
We also knew it would be a serious
undertaking, with time spent training and evaluating and getting used
to another dog in the mix at home. Still, when word came that there was
a dog to be fostered, we were nervous and excited to give this thing a
try.
Major was a male German Shepherd
dog, anywhere from 3-5 years of age,
who was at a shelter in central PA. He had been evaluated there by a
volunteer, who through experience had determined that he was a good dog
who'd just had some tough breaks.
Major had been a yard dog. He'd spent his 3-5 years on a concrete pad,
chained to a doghouse, in someone's backyard. When the person moved,
they left Major behind. A neighbor eventually noticed he was
unattended, and called the SPCA.
Major was skinny. He had rope
burns around his neck. His hind legs were
under-developed from lack of exercise. He had some pressure sores from
the concrete pad.
We drove out to see him, figuring that if he got along with our other
Shepherd, Maggie, we'd take him on. We brought Maggie along, thinking
we'd get them to interact a bit and see how it went.
When we arrived at the shelter, we found that the staff had brought him
into the main lobby area, and put him in their greeting enclosure
there. Major was being what we call a popcorn dog, in that he was
bouncing up and down like popcorn in a pan, and barking his fool head
off at the prospect of someone coming to pay him some attention. His
head would appear and dissappear and reappear, up and down and up and
down, bark bark bark bark bark.
We managed to put a lead on him,
and took him to the shelter's grassy
patio area, where you could go to get a look at the dogs and walk them
around. Major sniffed around the grass, peed on a bush, and sniffed at
us and at Maggie. He seemed friendly enough. Maggie was nervous and
excited to meet him, but when he tried to mount her she let him have
some bared teeth and a big snarl, and we pulled them apart. When we let
them back together again, Major was more subdued. In all the time we
had him, he never did that again. We gave them some more time together,
saw that they had sorted out their first doggie issue well enough, went
back inside and filled out the paperwork and gave them the check. Major
was now our responsibility.
In one way, we were lucky. With Major, we knew what his story was,
where he had lived and what he had been through. A lot of dogs come to
us with very little information, or none at all. In another way, Major
was a very challenging dog. He was essentially a gigantic overgrown
puppy, with no house training and no socialization of any kind.
Maggie schooling Major on how to play like a
dog.
Things
Major did included climbing over the sofa and into the big picture
window, knocking over plant pots and spilling dirt all over, so he
could stand and lean against the front windows and greet us when we
came up the walk. We temporarily relocated the plants, and told him not
to do that.
He lifted his leg in the house. Once. He got the spray bottle for that,
and a sharp no.
He chased our old cat. Once. We tugged his leash and told him no.
We took him to the vet, and he behaved himself just fine.
And so on, and so on. We tried to be firm but kind, because we
remembered he'd never been in a house, maybe had never been let near a
cat, and he couldn't know right from wrong until we taught him.
And Major was a quick learner. Pretty much tell him once, and he got it.
Things Major did not do included
playing. You could throw a ball or a
frisbee, and he'd look at it. Maggie would come up and give him her
"Let's play" bow, and he'd just look at her, and then look at us for
direction. We never really got him to play with toys or fetch us
anything, but Maggie refused to give up on the playing, and pestered
and rassled and chewed on him enough that he finally started getting
the hang of it.
We let him settle in for a few weeks, and get comfortable enough to
show us his true colors. The volunteer had been right. Good dog, bad
breaks. Now he was getting along with us, with strangers, with other
dogs, and he was leaving the cats alone. No messing in the house, no
fighting over food, no big problems.
So after a month, we talked it over with our rescue friends, and they
put him up on the website.
There was very little interest in Major.
In a shelter, with limited capacity, overworked staff and no one to
teach him, that would have spelled disaster. In our home, Major was
just passing the time, hanging out, learning how to leash walk and race
around the yard.
A couple months went by. We'd just about come to the conclusion that
Major was a permanent addition to our home, when we were told there was
someone who might be interested in adopting him. We got the contact
information, and did the proper introductions. Major behaved just fine
with the other dogs in his prospective home, and enjoyed having
attention lavished on him by his potential new parents. He ended up
being adopted by a wonderful family, and lived happily ever after.
Major, being
such a good boy.
We know,
because we still go to
visit him every now and then. I'm not sure if he still remembers us, or
his hard life before we took him in. But if there's any place on earth
that's the exact opposite of a doghouse on a concrete pad, this place
is it; Major's forever home is wonderful, and he's got it really good.
He's not our dog. We didn't even have him for that long. But I'm so
happy we were there for him when he needed to catch a break. And to
know that all the work we put in, to try and set him up as best we
could to be a good dog for someone else, paid off so well.
.
The Foster Agreement ~ View
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