West Virginia Tails

INTRODUCTION

Sandy, the White-Faced Dog

My name is Sandy. Actually, it was Tucker. But, as with many pets who are adopted from animal shelters like I was, my new mom changed my name. More about that later.

I was twelve years old (that’s 72 in human years) when I was taken to the Humane Society in Morgan County, West Virginia, after having lived with my previous human since I was seven. I can’t tell you much about those years, or the years before I was seven. All I can say is that someone loved me and petted me and taught me some commands, like “Sit” and “Paw”. I was fed well – not too much, so I wasn’t spoiled and I wasn’t fat. I had a good place to sleep. I had little to fear, and slept in my crate for long periods of time while my human was at work. I know when it’s time to go night-night and I know when it’s time to go potty. And I can communicate these needs to my human rather adequately, if I must say so myself. If they don’t get my cues at first, they soon come to understand clearly what I need. I am a happy, friendly, well-behaved dog. I like to cuddle with people and I’m not afraid of other animals. I have good dog-manners. I hold still to let other dogs sniff me and I don’t invade other dogs’ space, at least not intentionally. It’s hard to judge sometimes, due to my smaller stature. Enough about my talents and my friendly disposition. Now back to my story...

I was dropped off at the Humane Society on a Sunday in January, in the year 2008. My previous human was moving to Europe because she got a new job. She couldn’t take me with her to Europe (I don’t know why) and there was no one else who could keep me (again, I don’t know why) so she drove me to the Humane Society, said “goodbye,” and left. I will admit – I was scared. But I am a trusting soul and a very easy-going type. I don’t mind meeting new people.

The first new person I met was Linda. Linda runs the Humane Society in Morgan County. She was very kind and gentle to me. She bathed me and clipped my nails. Apparently, I hadn’t had a bath and a clip in quite a long time. My nails were so long that they curled around back toward my toes (that’s probably why I walked funny, at first). My fur was so ratty that I had skin sores and she had to brush me gently and thoroughly for a long time. Finally, I was fresh and dry and clean and clipped. She set up a doggie bed in her office and I curled up comfortably and watched her go to and fro, helping others and attending to Humane Society business, throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Poor Linda. She was so busy all the time helping other unwanted and uncared-for creatures. The phone kept ringing. People kept showing up with a dog or cat that they had found along the side of the road, or that they didn’t want any more for one reason or another. Or folks would show up to look for pets they had lost, and went away sad when they couldn’t find their beloved friend. I overheard Linda say to my soon-to-be mom that about 8-12 times per month someone would come in to adopt a pet, and would go home with a new member of the family safely tucked in a crate, happy smiles on their faces. That’s two or three adoptions a week. But more often someone would arrive with a pregnant mommy, or a van full of unwanted puppies or kittens because some irresponsible pet owner never invested in the operation that would ensure that cats and dogs would only come into this world with homes where they are wanted and cared for. Frequently, someone from another rescue shelter would call to ask Linda if she had any room in her kennels for an extra animal or two because their kennels were too full to take one more unwanted body. Linda would say “yes” as much as she possibly could.

I watched the flurry of activity when a new dog or cat arrived. Linda would have to make sure all the paperwork was filled out and all the health and shot records were collected (if there were any records to be had). She would bathe the newcomer, if necessary, and then she would have to spend the next few days arranging for the creature to get any shots that were needed and to arrange for spaying or neutering, if necessary. Sometimes things were so busy at the Humane Society that a newcomer may not get shots or surgery for many days. They would have to be kept apart from the other animals, in quarantine. Quarantine was a windowless, shed-like structure next to the kennels. Sick animals also had to go there. No friendly, hopeful faces would pass by those cages to look for potential pets to bring home. I count my blessings that I never had to stay in there.

When I came to the Humane Society, I had a very positive experience, thanks to that wonderful lady, Linda. She picked me up and looked into my eyes. She petted me and cooed at me. I think I even saw tears in her eyes. I could tell immediately that she was a very special human. In fact, I would say she’s more than human. To me, she’s an angel on earth. She looked into my cloudy, cataract-covered eyes with such tender compassion. She bathed and clipped me. She brushed out my tangled fur and talked so sweetly to me that I was not so afraid any more. She dried my fur and set a soft bed for me - just me - in her own office. I curled up and went to sleep – peacefully and trustingly, knowing that there would be good humans to take care of me as long as Linda was my advocate.

And this is really where my story begins...

CHAPTER ONE

Ale’

When my new mom, Ale’, first agreed to take me into her home as a foster-doggie, she didn’t really like my name, Tucker. She said it was too hard to remember. So she changed my name to Sandy, “because of my sandy color” – like in the musical “Annie”. Then she felt guilty and wanted to incorporate my first name into my new name. So she named me Mr. Sandy Tucker. But who’s going to say, “Here, Mr. Sandy Tucker! C’mere, Mr. Sandy Tucker.” Also, the letters “Mr. Sandy Tucker” did not fit on the dog tag she printed up for me. So she just called me “Sandy”. It took me a couple of weeks, but I got used to it. Besides, I can hardly hear her no matter what she says. I’m almost completely deaf. At any rate, we animals are smart enough to learn to respond to a new name when we move in with a new human family. It’s all part of living in the human world, I guess.

So there I was, curled up on my new, soft bed in Linda’s office, when in walks this lady. She had grey hair and gentle, dark-brown eyes. She knelt down beside my bed and began to pet me. I liked her right away because of that, let me tell you. (Petting is my favorite thing in the whole world). She talked to me and stroked my clean, smooth fur. She had tears in her eyes as she spoke softly to me. My angel, Linda, soon walked in and she began to talk with the lady.

It turned out that the lady, Ale’, was a foster parent for the Humane Society. She had scheduled an appointment to come and pick up a dog that a family had adopted a couple of weeks before, but that wasn’t working out for the family. That unwanted dog had been fostered by Ale’ before they adopted him. Ale’ loved that dog very much and was glad in her heart that they were bringing him back. She wanted to take him home again, only this time for good. She wanted to adopt that dog. That dog’s name was Buddy, and little did I know at the time that the circumstances that brought Ale’ and Buddy together were to change my life forever. I would have no idea that within 30 minutes, Buddy and I would be riding in a car together, out of West Virginia and across the state of Maryland to Ale’s home in Annapolis; I had no idea that Buddy and I were to become brothers, and Ale’ would become my new mother, and Annapolis would become my new home. At the time, all I knew was that this gentle, teary-eyed lady was petting me and talking to my angel, Linda, in a room I hadn’t been in for more than an hour, in a place I hadn’t known even existed just 3 hours earlier.

As I said, Ale’ was there to pick up Buddy and take him back to Annapolis. But as soon as she saw me, she knew that she could, and should, take me too. She knew that her home was big enough for another dog besides Buddy, especially a dog my size. She knew that an older, smaller dog – again, like me – would be a good companion for Buddy, who was very skittish around loud noises and quick movements, who was of quiet demeanor, and who would not feel threatened by such a sweet disposition such as mine.

She also knew that the impact of a second dog like me on her family would be nominal. Ale’ had had experience with dogs impacting her family before I came along. You see, Ale’ did not just come to the Humane Society to pick up Buddy. She also came to bring back Dane. Who was Dane, you ask? Let me explain. Dane was a 6 month old Great Dane puppy, formerly named Jefferson, who was found walking along the road near Berkeley Springs and was picked up by somebody and taken to the Humane Society about 3 weeks earlier.

This is where things get a little complicated. You see, Ale’ was fostering Buddy when Linda, at the Humane Society, got a call from a family saying they were interested in adopting Buddy. Would Ale’ bring Buddy to the Humane Society so that they could meet him and introduce him to their dog Dakota, a feisty, female Border collie? Ale’ brought Buddy back to West Virginia and after a tearful goodbye, preceded by a great deal of instructions and guidance, and an exchange of email addresses, Buddy drove off with his new family.

Ale’ turned her attention to what type of dog she should foster next. Nearly two hours later, Ale’ loaded up Dane and off they went, back to Annapolis. What happened from that moment on, until 2 weeks later, when I (for the first time) and Buddy and Ale’ (for the third time) all showed up at the Humane Society, deserves its own chapter.

CHAPTER TWO

Dane, the Great Dane

Ale’ walked the rows of kennels, looking for very specific behaviors in the dogs she was studying. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she was looking for very specific behaviors in the dogs that she didn’t want to see – primarily, jumping and barking. This is because Ale’ lives next to someone who has given her family a great deal of trouble. He has complained about almost everything that Ale’ and her family have done in their yard, from the construction of a cute, little, cottage-style playhouse that her hubby built all by himself for their daughter, Melody, to the type of fence they built to hide the playhouse from the neighbor’s view. He complained about the campfires during summer cookouts and the amount of leaves in their yard (their neighborhood is in a forest) in the Fall.

He also complained every time their dog, Robbie, barked at people passing on the sidewalk or at squirrels dashing about the yard. Robbie, who was raised on their farm in West Virginia, was trained to bark under these circumstances, so unfortunately Robbie had to stay indoors when he visited the city. So Ale’ was definitely looking for a dog that didn’t bark incessantly. Since the dog must live primarily indoors, it had to exhibit a calm, more sedate, demeanor. Therefore, jumping was not desirable.

So as she walked past each kennel, these were the concerns going through her mind. At the very last kennel sat a regal, fawn-colored dog. He had broad shoulders and a black mask across his face. His tail began to wag as Ale’ approached, but he remained seated. When Ale’ stopped and stood next to this beautiful animal, she turned away from him to avoid direct eye contact. Ale’ knows that facing a dog and looking straight in it’s eyes is considered threatening and even aggressive behavior in dog world. She also knew that pack leaders basically ignore the other members of the pack – basically, they ignore everybody else. So she turned slightly to the side in order to communicate to the dog that she considered herself a pack leader. The dog looked down - a sign of submission. These were all good signs – he was sitting, he wasn’t barking, he was submissive, he was docile. So Ale’ moved to Step Two – The Walk. The Walk is Everything. Ale’ knew that you can learn a lot about a dog by taking it on a walk. Just think about what you can learn about the dog’s temperament by approaching it to put on the leash. Will it back away? Will it jump on you? Will it allow you to loop the leash around its neck? What will it do once the leash is there, before you even leave the cage? All these things Ale’ was looking at closely as she prepared for The Walk.

Linda had told her that the dog, whom she called “Jefferson” after Jefferson County, West Virginia (she was running out of ideas for names), was probably an older puppy – less than a year. Later, discussions with Ale’s friend, Holly, concluded that he was probably 6 months old. Linda didn’t know what breed he was, but she was thinking Mastiff or Great Dane. Again, conversations with Holly and research determined that he was Great Dane.

Ale’ knew that puppies are a lot of work. She had raised Robbie from a puppy and had not done a very good job. She hadn’t known much about dogs before Robbie and ended up making a lot of mistakes in his training. For instance, she played tug of war with him. And she allowed him to jump up on her when he was a puppy. Because of these, and similar mistakes, Robbie had dominant tendencies when he was younger that sometimes got him, or Ale’, in trouble.

For these, and other reasons, Robbie now lived on her farm in Morgan County where he shared an invisible, electric fence, 3-acres long with the neighbor’s dog (who also used to be her dog), Zorro. The neighbors, Sandy and Don, had fallen in love with Zorro and took him on as their own, with Ale’s approval. When Ale’ moved back to the city after a two-year stint at the farm, Don and Sandy couldn’t stand the thought of Robbie and Zorro being separated. So they offered to foster Robbie while Ale’ was gone. Robbie was a farm dog and was better off with Don and Sandy and his brother, Zorro - at least for now.

Ale’ believed she had learned from her mistakes with Robbie and could more successfully raise a puppy. So she was not averse to fostering Jefferson. She thought that with some socialization and training, she could increase his chances of being adopted, because not many people feel equipped to take on the adoption of a 75-pound puppy. So down the lane they went, Ale’ and Jefferson, with Ale’ firmly in control of the leash.

Ale’ was pleasantly surprised to find how quickly Jefferson responded to her leads – change of direction, stopping and starting, verbal commands to “sit” and “come”. The Walk was going better than expected. Ale’ felt confident in her abilities to provide this puppy with pack leadership. So she agreed to foster Jefferson, only his name wasn’t working for her at all (sound familiar?).

The best thing to do before a two-hour car ride is to take a long walk. So Ale’ loaded To-Be-Named into her car, tied his leash to the hand-grip above the passenger door and headed for Great Cacapon State Park with her girlfriend, Holly, to try to wear this dog down a bit. Ale’ walked with the dog around the circle drive in the park several times, trying on different names as they went – continuing to put him through his paces. Stop. Change directions. If he pulled on the lead – change directions without warning. He looks like “Spock” from Star Trek, Holly mentioned. That’s a possibility. Ale’ tried it on. Nope. It didn’t stick. She tried “Paco”. Nope. She tried one or two other names. Nope. She even briefly considered naming him “Buddy”, only because she missed Buddy so much that the name rolled off her tongue so easily. Nope. No way. Nothing worked except “Dane”. So “Dane” it was.

Holly’s daughter walked behind them and gave Ale’ some pointers for Dane’s on-going training. Everything was going fine. They took some pictures of Ale’ with her new puppy, then loaded Dane up into the car, tied the leash, and they were off to Annapolis. It took Dane half the trip to finally settle down into the seat and go to sleep. During that first hour, Ale’ was greatly served by her ability to multi-task, that is - drive the car, push the dog, move the cup, push the dog, adjust the heat, push the dog, tighten the leash, push the dog, and various other tasks - all at the same time.

Finally, they were home. At last. As soon as she pulled in the driveway and parked, she took The Walk. Not even stopping to pee, herself. Off they went. On a long Walk. When they got back to the house, Ale’ kept the leash on Dane and led him straight up to her room where his crate and dish were ready for him. And there she lived for the next several days with Dane.

The first night was sheer Hell. Ale’ let him sleep on the bed with her (Bill slept in the guest room because there was no room for him). Ale’ had tried putting him in the crate earlier that evening while she and Bill watched a movie downstairs, but Dane barked so loud and banged against the crate making such a racket that Ale’ was afraid that Dane would break the crate or bark all night, thereby making the other members of the family (who had to work or go to school the next day) suffer.

Since she was worried that Dane would go potty on the floor, she kept him on the leash on the bed. Whenever he stirred and wanted to get up, she’d walk him outside. He’d pee. Then she’d walk him back. After three times of this, the lack of sleep was catching up. When he wanted to get off the bed the fourth time, Ale’ pulled the leash so he couldn’t reach the edge of the bed.

The leash Ale’ was using was a retractable leash. This was because she could hold the grip of the plastic handle easier and let out some slack so Dane could sleep at the bottom of the bed. When Dane kept pulling to get to the edge of the bed, Ale’ jerked the leash back. The part of the leash that was connected to Dane’s collar snapped off. The plastic handle flew back and hit Ale’s face below her eye. The pain was so great that she couldn’t raise her head. She lay curled up in a ball, holding her head in her hands and gasping for breath. The pain was so severe that she thought she might faint. Finally, the pain subsided.

She tied the leash onto the collar, pressed Dane’s hind-end down to make him stay, and eventually was able to get back to sleep. Somehow they made it through the night, only to find that Ale’ had a black eye forming by morning. There was some humor in the event as Ale’ considered that she made it to age 47 before she got her first black eye. And she should count her blessings. She could have lost an eye that night.

So with new resolve (and a shorter, stronger leash), Dane’s training continued. He was only coming out – on the leash – to go potty, take long walks and do what needed done around the house.

The walks were fun. Dane earned the name “Twinkle-Toes”, because he would lightly skip over debris, or snow or when he nimbly sprinted off of the curb. All this took place during the first 3 days of Dane’s fostering. Dane was passing all tests with flying colors. Ale’ discovered that real bones kept Dane entertained for long stretches of time.

The walks were going very well – Ale’ was developing “buns of steel”. Even her hubby was noticing. Life was progressing well with Dane. He slept through the night on the bed (Bill was still in the guest room, however). Dane was definitely housebroken. Dane was with Ale’ every day, day in and day out. He was ready to come off the leash around the house. Everything was great until Ale’ had to leave for a few hours one day to teach a program. That’s the day that Dane ate the couch.

Ale’ was hesitant to crate him because the crate seemed too small for him and she was afraid he might bust out of it. She had crated him once and he barked so loud and so long, and he made such a racket that Ale’ was sure he could bust it open if he was left in there for very long. So she closed him up in the sun room.

Ale’s friend, Robin, had recently gotten a new couch and Ale’ asked to have the old one to take to the farm. Robin’s husband and son brought the couch over and set it in the sun room. Ale’ thought this was a perfectly safe place for Dane. He would curl up on the couch, just like he curls up on the bed, or in the car, and sleep until she returned after teaching one of her nature programs. Only a couple of hours. But the dream was not to be. Dane had ripped open the large floor pillow and had strewn the foam pellets all over the floor. He had peed on one side of the couch and ripped the fabric off of the arm of the other side. He broke a lamp and got into the potting soil bag and ripped a hole in it. Dirt was mixed in with the foam pellets. The couch was ripped and Bill was not happy about the lamp.

Lesson learned? No. Next time she covered the couch with sheets and lawn chair cushions, stored all plant pots and soil on the highest shelf, shut the sliding glass door and went upstairs. “We’ll just see if this new setup will work”, Ale’ thought to herself. Within minutes, Dane was once again eating the couch’s armrest. He got all the way down past the foam to the wooden frame when Ale’ came down to check on him. Lesson learned? You betcha.

Straight upstairs she went to the bedroom, dragged the crate all the way down two flights of stairs and into the sun room. She shoved that dog through the door of the crate as hard as she could. That great big puppy braced himself against that crate door with all his might, but Ale’ didn’t give up. After all, Ale’ had thumbs, thus separating humans from other animals. She knew where to grab and what to push until Dane, much to his own surprise, found himself locked in the crate.

He tried the barking and the beating and the barking and the tossing, but the crate held. Ale’ had won. Thumbs had won again! In less than a week, Dane was housebroken, crated, trained on a leash and learning new commands regularly. Things were falling into shape. Ale’ even let herself consider adopting Dane. She began doing research on the breed, becoming more and more informed about what to expect from this guy. Things were lookin’ good! But for one thing.

Dane was a puppy... and he was still growing. Within the week and a half that Ale’ had had Dane in Annapolis, Dane had grown bigger. Taking walks was becoming more strenuous. Ale’ had to admit to herself that she was loosing steam. He was just getting too strong. She couldn’t wear him out. And if 6 months is correct for his age, he could reach almost twice as big as he was now. He hadn’t even reached adolescence yet! Ye gods! She was barely surviving her own daughter’s adolescence. Dane would be twice as tall and weigh nearly twice as much as Melody. It just felt overwhelming.

Ale’ conducted some research and decided to try a haltie leash – part of the leash wraps over the dog’s nose so that you can control his head. If you control his head, then you can control him with a fraction of the energy it takes when using a leash or slip lead. Even a small child could’ve walked that dog! The haltie was a real breakthrough.

But there were other problems. Just like any puppy, Dane wanted to sit on your lap. Yes, he weighed nearly 70 pounds, but that didn’t affect HIM a bit. He still wanted to sit in Ale’s lap, or sleep right up next to Ale’ and push her with his huge legs when he stretched. He was a chronic “leaner”. He liked to lean on Ale’, or really on anything or anyone.

He also liked the other animals in the house – the cats, and the rabbit. The fact was – he liked them a lot...too much. He really, really, really wanted to play with them. Not eat them, mind you. Just play with them. Well, just imagine poor Bimmer, a mere kitten himself, who likes to dash around the house and scamper and play. When Dane caught sight of Bimmer, off he’d run after him, full speed, skidding around the hard-wood floors, sliding across the kitchen tile, leaping over furniture, knocking over potted plants. He was just a big, playful, puppy who could squash Bimmer like a grape without meaning to hurt him at all. Never mind the poor, fragile-boned bunny who couldn’t ever come out of her cage again because Dane could crash any gate, leap over any barrier, and even bend the bunny’s cage trying to get to her. It was just too much for everyone in the household. Even Ale’.

One day it came to her...”faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall furniture in a single bound...it’s Dane!” She had to laugh. What else could she do? She would take Dane back to the Humane Society, trusting that his sheer “curb-appeal” would get him a new home soon.

So when the call came from Linda to come back to Berkeley Springs to pick up Buddy, Ale’ knew the time was right. Without any qualms or guilt, Ale’ packed up Dane and off they went to West Virginia. She dropped him off on Saturday, before she even went to her farm to spend the night; eagerly awaiting the afternoon hour on Sunday when she could go pick up Buddy – the same day I was also to arrive at the Humane Society.

The family who tried to adopt Buddy was heart-broken that Buddy had not fit into their family. He kept escaping from his wire crate during the day. And he was afraid of the husband. Ale’ could tell that they had cared for him as best they could. He had a new collar. He had put on some weight, and his coat looked well-cared for. Ale’ promised to give them news of Buddy in the coming weeks. This is the letter that Buddy sent the family after he returned home to Ale’s house in Annapolis:

Dear Dakota,

Hi! This is Buddy. I wanted to write you sooner but my mom didn't download the pictures until today....so, I'm sending you some photos of me and my friend, Mr. Sandy Tucker. We just call him Sandy. He's a sweet old man. He's twelve years old and everyone here has

fallen in love will him. Even me. When we go out on our walks (very short walks when Sandy is with us), I worry about him and sniff him to make sure he's OK. He's almost deaf and blind, so when mom picks him up during our walks, I hover around to make sure he's not hurt or anything. I think he just can't see where he's going so she has to carry him back to the house.

You know I don't eat my food right away. I usually wait until things settle

down in the evening, then I go ahead and finish it off. But Sandy will eat it if

You know I don't eat my food right away. I usually wait until things settle down in the evening, then I go ahead and finish it off. But Sandy will eat it if I don't get to it right away. So mom has to put my food bowl up high so Sandy can't get to it. Yesterday, Sandy ate leftover chicken and vegetable soup that mom gave us. He ate his bowl, my bowl, and the bowl that she leaves in the kitchen for us. I hardly got a bite! No matter. She just put some of my own food in the bowl for me later, after Sandy had been crated for the night and couldn't get to my bowl anymore.

I get to sleep with mom and dad in bed. Since I'm still nervous around dad, sometimes I sleep under the bed. But last night I actually felt comfortable to sleep IN the bed, even though dad was there! I slept on mom's side - at the bottom. Mom just cuddled closer to dad and everyone slept fine.

When mom goes to teach for her nature programs at schools and nursing homes, she takes me and Sandy with her. She put a big cushion on the floor of the front seat for me. I just jump right in the car and curl up in my bed. Sandy sits in the passenger front seat next to mom. He's too small and old to get into the car

by himself and he cries if she puts him in the cargo area of her SUV. So he curls up and sleeps in the seat. Sometimes I sit in the driver's seat and look around. Mostly, I'm looking for mom to come back. Sometimes I watch the people go by. I don't mind the car. It's more interesting than the bed room where I usually hang out when mom is teaching programs. I'm pretty easy going, either way.

When mom takes us out to go potty, we can never go very far if Sandy is with us. So mom puts him back in the house and she and I get to take a longer walk together. Then I have time to sniff trees (read the local newspaper, I call it) and take a brisk walk with mom. I walk with my tail up and my ears perked, looking around, sniffing at stuff. I like my neighborhood. I feel anxious a bit when I see someone else walking in my neighborhood, especially if it is a man. I look to mom to see if everything's OK. She helps keep me focused. She just keeps walking and doesn't let me get distracted.

My dad really wants me to like him. Mom is teaching him how not to be so scary - he's a big human with a deeper voice than mom's. And he keeps looking at me all the time. He doesn't know that it's rude to stare in dog-world. Making eye-contact is a threatening or challenging behavior - NOT friendly at all! But mom's coaching him and he's really trying. Maybe I'll let him touch me one day. I let him give me a treat once. But I made him set it down first. I'm sorry, but it takes time for me to get to know someone. He'll just have to understand and be patient with me. At least he really likes me and wants to keep me. He told mom to adopt me for good now - not just keep me as a foster-doggie. He must be serious. I guess he's alright after all.

I have one funny story to tell you. When mom starting walking me and Sandy on our own leashes at the same time, Sandy wanted to walk in front of me. He thought he was the pack leader and he actually lifted his leg when he peed on a tree. He even peed over the place where I peed! - definite dominant behavior. I was so surprised at this because he's only about 7 pounds and 7 inches high. He can hardly see where he's going AND he toddles from side to side when he walks - very unstable for someone who thinks he's a pack leader. So here's what I did: I walked ahead of him! Yep! I did. He tried to butt in front of me but I very gently leaned towards him and pressed him out of my way with my body. I was very gentle - I swear! But I think he got the message - at least that time. My mom was laughing at us, but I couldn't see what was so funny. Anyway, I established myself as lead dog. But then mom pulled a fast one on me. She let Sandy out on our walks WITHOUT a leash (after all, how far can he get? He can hardly walk). Then, she had to follow HIM around and I had to trail behind on the leash! It really wasn't fair. At first I wanted mom to take me in a different direction than Sandy was going. But mom would have none of it. She gave my leash a little tug and cued me to come. What else could I do? I had to follow her. I had to follow Sandy. So basically, after several trips like this, I stuck close to Sandy on our walks. Then mom would walk us back to the front door. She'd hold the door open for Sandy to walk in, then she would close it and turn around and take me back out for longer walks! Well, I must tell you, I really liked that. It made me feel special. We could go further, and faster, and longer. No offence to Sandy, but I'm only 1 year old and I have NEEDS! When mom turns around and out we go, let me tell you, my tail goes up and I practically have a spring in my step. I look up at her so gratefully. She really loves me. Everybody really loves me here. The kitten rubs up against me. The old lady cat finally came out of the bedroom where she lives and will sit on the back of the couch where mom and Sandy and I are sitting. Even the rabbit will hop up to me. I turn my head and refuse to make eye contact. I hope the rabbit understands that I'm just trying to let her know that I'm not a threat to her. She just hops around the kitchen and living room and Sandy and I just sit by mom on the couch. Sometimes I look at mom and stretch my nose toward her. She puts her face close and we touch noses. That's how we check in with each other to make sure the other is OK. Then we each go back to our tasks - mom typing on the computer and me - curled up on the couch next to her. Everything's alright in my world.

Love,

Buddy

PS: The first picture is of me and mom. Isn't she cute? I know, I know...you think I'm the cute one. You're right.

The second picture is a very handsome shot of me, I must say.

The last picture is of me and Sandy. Mom wanted us to look at her but Sandy kept rolling around on the rug. I'm sorry if I got a little distracted in this photo

and looked away from the camera. Sandy wasn't cooperating and I turned back to give him a "look". At that moment, mom clicked the shot. Oh, well.

Sandy sometimes thinks he's still a puppy, but I love him. If you remember correctly, I am a very tolerant dog. I let you swish your tail in my face, remember?

CHAPTER THREE

Difficult Transitions

Ale’ was much attached to Buddy. Buddy had become quite bonded to Ale’ over the month that he was living with her. The part of the story that hasn’t been told is who lay at the heart of that bond. That special place belonged to KoKo, Buddy’s brother.

Ale’s commitment to fostering dogs from the Humane Society began with KoKo, who was originally named Kudo (guess who changed his name). When Ale’ left West Virginia to return to the city, she missed her farm and her animals very much. She also missed her daughter, Melody. Yes, Melody was in Annapolis and had been living in Annapolis with Daddy for the past 9 months while she attended private school for 7^th grade. Schools were not that challenging for Melody in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, so Daddy pulled some strings and got her into his alma mater where she flourished, making new friends and meeting academic challenges suitable to her

capabilities.

But Ale’ had to stay in West Virginia to complete her commitment to her employer to help set up a child care center for a federally funded program called Starting Points. After a year and a half running the preschool playgroup and preparing the documentation for a full-time childcare center, Starting Points decided NOT to seek licensing and, instead, to continue running the playgroup. Ale’ knew it was time to move on. The commitments that she had made that kept her from her family for 9 months were over. She packed her clothes and books and favorite plants and things, arranged for a caretaker for her goats, ducks, rooster and house cats, and headed back to Annapolis.

Much to her chagrin, she returned to a daughter who no longer needed or wanted her. Melody had closely bonded to her dad during those 9 months and had emotionally distanced herself from Ale’. Intellectually, Ale’ knew that this was the developmentally appropriate direction for a young adolescent girl to move in, but it was still devastatingly painful to have to face Melody’s hostility and rudeness toward her on a day-to-day basis.

Bill’s reassurance that all daughters are rude to their mothers at this age was not reassuring to Ale’ at all! She felt very alone - and very useless - in her own home. She began to look outside herself to see where she could channel her energies that welled up from her heart and spilled, wasted, onto the floor of her home.

She reorganized and redecorated the house – made things brighter, cheerier, with lots of plants and colorful pictures and photos on the walls. She set up a bird sanctuary filled with flowering plants and bird feeders on the back porch. She got a job with a nature education program where she got to load up her car with animals and drive to schools and nursing homes to teach people about them – frogs, ferrets, lizards, even tarantulas and scorpions. Ale’ was learning new things and enjoying her work. But at home, her contribution was limited to cooking dinner, doing laundry and filling the dishwasher – day in and day out.

Although these were good things to do for her family, this was not where her greatest gifts lay. She wanted to help someone, to offer healing and support to someone in need. She had decades of knowledge and experience in preparing a healing environment and nurturing young and tender spirits. She was good at this; and this is what she REALLY wanted to do.

And she desperately missed Robbie. Whenever she brought Robbie to Annapolis for the weekend, he seemed to do pretty well. He lay around most of the time and didn’t cause much trouble. But when she took him back to the farm, Sandy would report that Zorro had stopped eating. Sandy had been so concerned about Zorro’s listless behavior that she took him to the vet because she thought he was sick. Sandy was worried that separation from Robbie was not good for Zorro. So she urged Ale’ to keep the “boys”, as she called them, together on the farm where they could run and play freely across the vast yard together.

Ale’ capitulated. She hated to see Sandy worry about the dogs. Sandy and Don had done so much for Ale’ on the farm that she felt it was a small price to pay to give up being with Robbie for the time being if it made Sandy and Don feel better about Robbie and Zorro staying together.

So she started the application process to adopt a dog from the SPCA in Annapolis. The adoption process was grueling. She had to have a fully enclosed, fenced-in yard, for one thing. And the adoption fee had gone up quite a bit since she had last adopted a pet from the SPCA. She had to get all the other animals up-to-date on their shots, including Bimmer. She kept submitting her application each time she saw a dog she liked, but she never got “the call”.

Feeling like she was running out of options in Annapolis, she decided to drop by the Humane Society in Morgan County one weekend when she was in town to check on the farm. That’s when she met Linda.

She and Linda hit it off right away. And as luck would have it, there were two recent arrivals to the Humane Society that happened to be of the breed Ale’ was looking for. The two were brothers. They had lived the first 4 months of their lives with a deaf couple. So they were very sensitive to noise. Then, as Linda explained, they were seized by Animal Control and taken to a Chow rescue where they lived primarily in crates for the next 6 months. That’s when the owner of the rescue called Linda and asked if she had room in her kennels for the two brothers. Linda, of course, said “Yes”. She always says “Yes” if she possibly can. And that’s how Buddy and Kudo ended up at the Humane Society only a few days before Ale’ arrived and met Linda.

Ale’ was immediately attracted to the two brothers, not only because of their breed, but also because they were not barking or jumping. She could immediately tell that Buddy was the dominant brother, so she decided to test Kudo by taking him on The Walk. Kudo was TERRIFIED! He would cower flat on the ground. She had to nudge his bottom to get him to move forward. He wouldn’t walk up the stairs to the office trailer. She had to walk forward in front while Linda pushed him from the back.

Ale’ and Linda repeated this procedure on the stairs a couple of times until Kudo would finally go up the stairs with minimal resistance. Kudo would try to bolt if anyone approached him face-on. He would flinch if he were touched. Ale’ had her work cut out for her. But she felt that Kudo would be able to adapt to her lifestyle and her home, and wouldn’t be a threat to any of the animals in the home already. This was very important. Kudo would come into her home at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Linda was willing to let Ale’ take Kudo home that very day. All she had to do was sign a foster agreement and collect copies of Kudo’s paperwork. It was that easy! Why didn’t she think of fostering earlier? This was going to be Ale’s next endeavor – fostering animals and providing rehabilitation and training so that they would be ready for their “forever homes”.

She would learn how to love and let go – very timely considering that this was the exact lesson she was challenged with in her relationship with her daughter. She would learn to be a calm, assertive pack-leader. She would study books on dog language and read stories about dogs that came into people’s lives and changed them for the better. She would undertake this new challenge and learn the lessons it had to offer.

But what to do about his name? It just wasn’t working for her.

She decided to ask Melody for ideas to name the dog. Hopefully, this would draw Melody’s support for the project by involving her to some degree. She drove back to Annapolis with a song in her heart and a new dog curled up on the floor of her car.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ale’s First Mistake

Timing is everything. Ale’ brought Kudo home on a Thursday, and the family had plans to go to camping Friday night and attend a PowWow all day Saturday in Fredericksburg, VA. The reservation was made weeks ago, the camping equipment was piled up by the front door.

Fortunately, KOA accepts pets (for an additional fee). Ale’ made a bed for KoKo (Melody picked the name) in the space behind the back seat. Ale’ had to pick KoKo up every time to load and unload him from the car. He was scared to death and would not move a muscle the entire time he was in the car. And he had diarrhea. Ale’ kept KoKo on a lead 100% of the time. She walked him around the campgrounds several times that night. She set up a food bowl and a water bowl for him in the car and inside the cabin, but he wouldn’t eat. He would dash under the bed and hide in the farthest corner as soon as she brought him inside and wouldn’t come out until everyone was in bed and the lights were out and all was quiet and still.

Then Ale’ would hear the click, click, click of dog feet on the wooden floor going to the food bowl, sniffing, eating a few bites, slurping some water. Then – tentatively – the clicking would approach the side of the bed where Ale’ was sleeping. KoKo curled up under the chair next to Ale’s side of the bed. Ale’ rested her hand on KoKo’s shoulder. He flinched. But he stayed and slept there, by her side, the rest of the night. “This just might work out after all,” Ale’ thought to herself.

The next morning, Melody was showing some interest in KoKo. “This was a good sign,” thought Ale’. So she asked Melody if she wanted to walk KoKo around the campground while Ale’ helped Bill pack up the car. Melody was willing. Ale’ gave her a few instructions and off they went down the lane.

Unfortunately, there were dogs at other campsites that Melody would pass as she walked KoKo to the edge of the path to the woods. And these other dogs began to bark at KoKo, which sent KoKo into a panic and he began to bolt in any direction he could to get away. Mel tugged on the leash to pull him back, but KoKo wouldn’t come. All he wanted was to get away. So he bit her on her hand. He bit hard. He broke skin. Mel was calling for help and struggling to control him, but he was crazy with fear. Finally, she got close enough to the campsite that Ale’ could hear her and rushed over to take control of the situation.

Poor Mel. She had a rope burn from KoKo pulling the leash so abruptly. And she had two deep wounds where he bit her. The first thing to come to Ale’s mind was “Thank God that the dog had his shots!”

Mel was calm, but understandably upset. She took off to the bathhouse to wash and dress her wounds. Bill confronted Ale’ about her decision to let Melody walk the dog. Ale’ realized her mistake. She had moved too quickly in her thinking that things were getting better with KoKo. She would have to take more control of the situation and make sure that no one was put in a position of responsibility for this dog except her, until she was certain that KoKo was much farther along the road in the process of rehabilitation and training.

It was all her fault. Now, Melody didn’t want anything to do with the dog, and Bill doubted her judgment about the choice of this animal. There was nothing to do but pack KoKo up in the back and go to the PowWow. Ale’ checked on him a couple of times, bring him some water. KoKo never moved a muscle the whole day. He lay curled up as small as he could, his muscles taut, as if he’d bolt the first chance he got.

Finally, the day ended with a nice drive home, including a stop-over for dinner at Cracker Barrel – a tradition for road trips. Ale’ brought KoKo some water during dinner, but he still wouldn’t move. He looked at her. He twitched when she approached him and then he’d try to disappear into the pillow, but he wouldn’t eat or drink anything. Ale’ was worried that he was becoming dehydrated.

As soon as they reached home, Ale’ picked him up and took him for a walk. KoKo immediately stopped after a few feet and went pee. That was a good sign. Then Ale’ walked him straight upstairs to her bedroom and into his crate, where he stayed until she opened the crate door the next morning and put the leash around his neck, gave a tug and said “Come”. That was how the first days went.

Ale’ had to go to KoKo, who invariably hid under the bed or in his crate, in order to put the leash around his neck. He never came to her. At times she put the leash on and walked him downstairs to sit by her on the couch, just to get him out of the bedroom for a while. But if anyone else came into the room, he bolted from the couch and dashed around trying to find the quickest, safest route to the bedroom. If he was really scared, like when Bill or any other man came into the room, KoKo would have a panic attack, darting around looking for an escape route and loose control of his bowels as he went. Even on his walks, if Ale’ stopped to chat with folks who expressed interest in the new dog on the block, KoKo would have a panic attack and let loose wherever he was – sidewalk, street or Ale’s foot, if it happened to be in the line of fire.

Ale’ just kept up the walks and the routine and worked on stabilizing his diet. The days passed with little variation and, except for the panic attacks when visitors came to the house, KoKo was calming down a bit.

Slowly, KoKo began to come out from under the bed, but only if everything was quiet around the house. He’d peek out of the bedroom door, looking down the hallway, deciding whether it was safe to come down or not. Sometimes he came down to the living room and went straight to the couch and curled up there.

Overall, he never had an accident when Ale’ was gone. He never chewed on anything or barked at anyone. He never snapped at or bit anyone – not even the other animals. He was afraid of the rabbit and would back away if he saw her hopping around.

Even Melody started showing him some attention again. Although she had never really blamed KoKo for the incident at the campground, she was weary around him. But she began to talk to him a bit, show him some attention, express some concern for him. Life was becoming an easy routine with KoKo.

That’s when Ale’ decided to foster KoKo’s brother, Buddy. Although Buddy was the more assertive dog and therefore probably the more adoptable, Ale’ thought, and Linda agreed, that Buddy might help KoKo adapt to family-life better if they were together.

So, after The Walk, Ale’ loaded Buddy into the car, right beside KoKo. They sniffed each other and, for a split second, it seemed as if KoKo showed a little spark of excitement at seeing his brother again. They both curled up into a tight, two-dogged ball on the floor of the car and lay there the entire trip back to Annapolis. You could hardly see where one dog ended and the other began because they were exactly the same color and almost indistinguishable from one another.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Night Before Christmas Eve

(Or Ale’s Second Mistake)

Life with two dogs was REALLY sweet now. The brothers walked perfectly on the leash together – Buddy slightly ahead of KoKo; or, as KoKo gained more confidence, Buddy on the right side of Ale’ and KoKo on the left (KoKo always walked on the left).