When I pulled up in front of the large, gray house, I had no idea what to expect.  Lucky Lab Rescue had asked to me go get Brandy because her owners didn’t want to keep her. They said she was still terrified of them and hid from them most of the time.  She was still afraid to eat when they were in the same room.  This was fearfulness to the moon and back.

And they’d had her for two freaking years. 

In rescue, there is the 3-3-3 rule.  Three days to de-stress, three weeks to settle in and three months to build trust.  Something had gone seriously wrong here.  I had no idea what.

I knocked on their blue front door and went in to meet Brandy and her owners, a married couple who had never had a dog before they adopted her, and their college aged son.  Brandy was nowhere to be seen.  I was told she was hiding in the son’s bedroom upstairs, not because of me, but because it was what she did every day.  My own dogs would have run to greet a new person, I thought, maybe given a perfunctory bark or two.  There would be lots of sniffing, tail wagging and curiosity to see who had walked into their home.  But here, nothing. No sign of a dog at all.

I asked a few polite questions and then just listened.  Brandy was beautiful, they told me.  But “she acts a like scared, hurt, insane creature 99% of the time.”  She shakes coming down the stairs to go for a walk and sometimes pees out of fear, they added.  She hides in our son’s bedroom (who was home on a break) most of the time.  We put out her food at night before we go to bed and she comes down to eat while we are asleep. 

She acts like we are always just about to harm her, they told me. “At the two-year mark,” the woman said, “we don’t have much hope for change.”

“Will she come with me?” I asked. “I have two dogs at home who are calm and love other dogs. That might be what she needs right now.”  They looked at each other and nodded.  I told them a couple of stories about Teddy and Josie and how they loved the dogs we had fostered.  How they tag teamed, with Teddy being calm and showing other dogs the ropes, while Josie played and pushed them to get into trouble with her.

They asked if I could train Brandy and then return her.  “No,” I explained. “You said you were returning her, letting her go.  She will come stay with me for a while and then go to another home. Is that what you still want?”  They nodded, tearful, but seemed to accept it.

Someone went to get Brandy’s paperwork and food, while the son went upstairs with her leash. 

As she came down the stairs I stood quietly, not looking at her.  When a dog is scared, they often tuck their tail under, but Brandy’s tail was docked.  She stood docilely, trembling slightly.  She didn’t seem ready to bolt, but resigned, a little defeated.

We all walked outside and I was handed her leash.  I opened my car door, expecting to have to wait a bit or maybe coax her to get in.  But she surprised me and jumped right into the back seat, where she sniffed the dog smells my two dogs had left.  She didn’t look at me.  She didn’t look at her owners.  I ran the seat belt through the loop in her leash and shut the door.

When we got to my house, Brandy immediately tried to find a place to hide.  But only from me, not my dogs.  She started playing with them within 20 minutes.  Small steps, I told myself. Let’s see if the 3-3-3 rule will work this time.