Category Archives: Dog fostering

Dangerousness, trust and Callie

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I drove 35 minutes to the animal control center to get Callie.  Getting a dog at an animal control center was a first for me since I usually met returned dogs and their relinquishing owners in a parking lot or their homes.  ‘Returned dogs’ are dogs returned to the rescue for one reason or another after they’ve been adopted.  As it turned out, Callie’s whole situation was a first for me.

Catching dog icon.

She was just over a year old, not old enough to cause all the chaos of the last month or so.  All I knew going in was that her owner said she was dangerous and animal control had used a catch pole at the veterinarian’s office to take her ‘into custody.’  A catch pole is used to catch potentially dangerous animals, often feral animals.  It consists of a pole with a loop on the end, which goes over the dog’s head and tightens around their neck.  Callie was a house dog, used to a leash.  I couldn’t imagine why anyone would need a catch pole to take a house dog out of a vet’s office. I was shocked when I heard this and Lucky Lab Rescue’s coordinator, Cindy, was aghast.  It was pretty unheard of. 

Because of her advance billing as a dangerous, out-of-control dog, I asked my son to come with me, in case I needed two sets of hands.  We brought only a leash, some treats and a couple of poop bags.  I was hoping we’d be okay.

The woman who’d adopted Callie six months before was mom to four children.  Her 11-year-old daughter was the oldest and considered Callie her best friend.  Her other children included a crawling baby and two in the middle, one of whom had autism.  I’m sure there were lots of kids going in all directions and it’s sometimes hard to monitor the dog-child interactions.  I get that. 

What the mom first told the vet was that the baby crawled to Callie while she was eating her kibble and Callie growled then snapped.  She waited till the next day to bring Callie into the vet for her scheduled vaccinations and by then the story had changed to a report of a vicious dog who bit a small child.  The mom wanted to never see the dog again.

So the vet called animal control.  They brought a catch pole.  They considered euthanizing her, but Cindy’s pleading forestalled that. The dog who’d been cuddling and playing with an 11-year-old girl was dragged by the neck to a concrete cage and had had no human touch from then on.  Since no skin was broken during the alleged bite, she didn’t have to be quarantined. On the drive, I wondered what I would find.

Dangerous Dog Act 1991

After we arrived, the animal control officer (ACO) said Callie had been isolated for two days.  They shoved her food and water in her kennel but never interacted with her.  The sign on the door of her kennel read ‘Dangerous Dog.’  There was a Great Pyrenees dog, twice her size, in the next kennel with the same sign.  Great Pyrenees are wonderful dogs bred to guard.  The ACO told me that the dog’s family were told they were getting a Golden Retriever and when the Great Pyrenees guarded the family’s daughter from her playmate, they freaked out.  I wished I could take that dog home with me, too.

Callie was a 40-pound brown dog with floppy ears, probably a lab mix.  She was brown all over: nose, eyes, nails and fur.  She crouched in a corner and looked absolutely terrified and not dangerous at all.

I told the officer that I wanted to go in and put a leash on her so I could walk her to my car.  The officer said, “She’s dangerous.  She growls and she won’t let anyone near her.”  I thought, If I don’t offer her my trust, how can she give me hers?

My son told the ACO, “You don’t know my mom.”

I went in keeping my back to the wall, talking softly to her.  She stared at me, looked at the door, then came over, slinking low to the ground.  I waited to see what she’d do next.  She wedged herself between me and the wall with her eyes squeezed shut.

Callie when she first arrived

“What a good idea, Callie.  What a good girl,” I crooned to her.  I talked to her, sang to her and finally dropped the handle of the leash next to her. She nudged it with her nose. 

“Want to go for a ride?” I asked as I put the leash on her.

I told the officer that she was ready to leave with me.  “We can lend you a crate,” he offered.  “I don’t think she should be loose in the car.” 

“Thanks, but I think we’ll be okay.”  My son piped up, “If my mom says she’ll be okay, she will.”

We gathered her records and walked outside, where she promptly did her business.  She obviously knew what to do on a walk.  She jumped without hesitation into my car, ready to leave the animal control center in the rear-view mirror.  Her eyes were wide, she panted and only looked a mite less scared.  As I usually do with a new dog, I sang silly songs and talked to her.   It took most of the drive before she relaxed, just a little bit. My son turned around and offered her a treat several times.

When I got home, I made careful introductions to my own two dogs and another foster, but everyone was pretty nonchalant. The other dogs didn’t consider her even a little bit menacing and I trusted their judgement.  I watched them greet each other in the way dogs do as I read her records, looking for a clue as to how a happy young dog who’d belonged to a family ended up being considered dangerous.

People can look at a dog and make a snap judgement.  To the 11-year-old daughter, Callie was a loving best friend.  To the animal control officer, she was a dangerous dog.  Right now, I was seeing tail wags and getting kisses.  We’d see where we went from here.  It was a matter of trust.

Origin clues, peacefulness and Teddy

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Teddy at 3 years

I’m watching the cold December sunrise. The days are short this month and sunrise means those precious hours of daylight have begun. Mostly, though, I’m thinking about my dog, Teddy, who delighted in the dawn.

I never knew why he loved sunrise so much. Maybe it spoke to him. Or maybe it was part of his past and part of the untold story of his early life.

Teddy loved the outdoors in the early morning and he’d watch and listen as the sun rose. He adored lying on the deck, absorbing the day as the sun came up. He would stretch his 94 pound body out on the planks with a small sigh. He would listen to the birds and small animals come awake. His ears would lift up and swivel to hear the cars on the road, the early joggers and walkers. Sometimes he would breathe in deeply the smells from the commercial bakery a few miles away, wafting to him in the early hours. He would inhale deeply with his nose and simply savor it.


Only when the sun was above the horizon did he ask to come back in. Most days, he would shut his eyes and lie on the deck in contentment for almost an hour, simply happy that he was alive. I might name it mindfulness or living in the moment. To him, it was simply bliss.

When it snowed, as it often does this time of year, he would stay outside even longer, the flakes piling on top of him, his black fur peeking through. Although I would open the slider and invite him inside every 10 minutes or so, he stayed put until he felt satiated. I worried that he looked like those pathetic dogs in commercials meant to solicit donations for abused animals. Maybe he did.


Sometimes when I posted his snow-covered pictures, I wondered if the animal cruelty squad would come knocking at my door.

Teddy on the deck in the falling snow

I’d had dogs before – a lab mix as a teen and a pointer when my children were growing up. Since they came from shelters, I guess you could call them rescues. But they arrived as puppies, with most of their lives ahead of them and very little mystery about their past. Teddy’s past was unknown to everyone but him.


Teddy was a young dog when he became part of my life. I was sure he would enjoy toys, dog biscuits and other treats so I bought plenty in anticipation of his arrival. I was told that he loved stinky soft treats so I also stocked up on lots of those. The first time I offered him a biscuit, he took it politely and then let it fall out of his mouth. It lay on the floor. He looked at it then looked at me. I offered again and he did the same thing. Later, seeing I was disappointed, he began taking the biscuits outside, not to eat but to bury them.


But he liked those soft smelly treats and ate them with gusto. Once, when I baked a piece of salmon, it slipped as I took it from the oven and dropped on the kitchen floor. Teddy looked at me and I looked back at him. “I guess it’s yours,” I told him. He didn’t let one morsel fall out of his mouth.


He was a 3-year-old dog when he arrived in New England on a transport van from Lucky Lab Rescue. He’d been found in southern Indiana as a stray, they told me, eating out of trash barrels with another black dog. What they knew for sure was that he was a large, gentle and polite boy but not much else.


There were a few small clues to his life story. On our walks, he would try to jump in the back of pick-up trucks and tug me down front paths to large, covered porches while ignoring other models of cars and houses unadorned by porches. I wondered, of course, why he was drawn like a magnet to trucks and porches, but he wasn’t saying. I had other clues too. He would sometimes try to smash through the ice film on the outside water bowl with his front paw if it had frozen overnight. How does he know how to do that? I pondered. Had he lived his life as an outside dog? He also knew how to sit, give his paw and come running to a whistle. Someone had taken the time to teach him.

I hoped that meant that somebody had loved him. If they hadn’t, I vowed I would love him enough for the rest of his life to make up for it. Whether he told me his secrets or not.

Short fosters, second chances and Teddy Boy

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Teddy Boy was my shortest foster.  I had him with me for a whopping two hours.

He was a happy-go-lucky boy and only 8 months old when he was adopted the first time.  He had an older “brother” dog and he loved his family.  We thought they loved him, too. All seemed well, until it wasn’t.

One day, Teddy Boy and the older dog suddenly didn’t get along.  He had been with his owners for a year and a half and this came out of the blue.  They freaked out and felt they couldn’t deal with it.  Things became very tense.  They kept the dogs separated and spent less time with Teddy.  He knew something was up and stopped eating much at dinner.  They felt they had to choose and that their first loyalty was to the older dog.

When they contacted the rescue, they planned to send Teddy to a local shelter immediately.  The adoption contract, however, said they had to return him to the rescue. 

It’s awful for any dog to be sent from family life to a shelter.  They don’t understand what happened or why.  They trade a warm bed for a concrete floor and daily affection for getting only their basic needs met.  The rescue didn’t want to see that happen to Teddy. 

Teddy Boy was a beautiful dog.  He was a rangy 70 pounds with creamy, short fur and freckles across his face. He was tall, with long legs and was both graceful and fast.   He was also a lucky boy.  The rescue convinced the owners to stand by their word and release him back to them.  Instead of going to a shelter, Teddy went to a beautiful dog boarding facility nearby.

I went to pick him up a few days later.  The place was 90 minutes away from me in a very pretty rural setting.  As soon as I walked in, several of the people who worked there rushed over to tell me what a wonderful dog he was.

“He gets along with every single dog, even the picky ones,” I was told.

“His tail never stops wagging.  Even when he eats, his tail is wagging,” another said.

One young woman had come in on her day off to ask if she could adopt him.  “I bring my German Shepherd to work,” she told me.  “He loves Teddy and so do I.”

In the few days that Teddy was in the boarding facility, he had already been adopted.  In fact, several families fell in love with his online picture.  Instead of bringing him home to my house to foster, I was meeting his new family two towns away in a local park. 

I walked him out and around the parking area where I could smell the piney smell of the surrounding evergreens.  He zig zagged and pulled a bit. He hopped readily into my car and we loaded up his stuff.  He had a lot of things from his previous owners – a bed, a bag of toys, leftover kibble and treats.  He sniffed and, satisfied that he recognized it, settled down in my car.

The drive was short and along pretty roads.  In about 20 minutes, we came to the turnoff to the park.  His new family arrived quickly after us.  They were thrilled to meet him.  They exclaimed over how beautiful he was and let him take the lead in greeting them, as experienced dog owners do.  They had recently lost a dog, they told me, and felt they needed a new dog to make their family complete.

The father asked if he could walk Teddy and did, with his two little girls by his side.  Again, Teddy zig zagged and pulled a bit on his leash.  The 7 year-old said, “Me next! I want to walk him.” 

“No! I want to go first,” the 4 year-old daughter exclaimed. 

Without hesitation, the father handed her the leash.  And Teddy did a remarkable thing.  He looked over his shoulder at the little girl, seeing who was holding his leash. When they set out, he walked slowly and gently.  He adjusted his pace to hers.  He walked in straight line in whatever direction she chose.  She beamed.

They signed the new adoption contract and loaded up Teddy’s stuff into the back of their SUV.  He jumped in the back seat, between the two little girls.  All three of them looked happy, Teddy most of all.