My dog is a rescue dog. No, that doesn't mean he saved some poor family from a fire. It means that the people who had him before me treated him like crap.
I have a Corgi. He's damn cute. He was born to a backyard breeder operation that didn't care about anything other than his show potential. He was doomed when one of his testicles failed to descend. Because of this he spent the first year of his life in a box. He was let out once a week so they could scrape the poop and pee out of his box. Then he was shoved right back in. Sometimes they fed him, sometimes they forgot. Nobody ever paid any attention to him.
A friend of mine who loves Corgis went to this breeder with her boyfriend looking for a new dog to breed with her current dog. After looking at some super-cute dogs in the breeder's house, her BF wandered off to the garage and found Henry, all skinny and malnourished in his crap filled box in the garage and was like... WTF?! He grabbed Henry and said they would be back to sign the paperwork... or call the cops. Whatever they prefered....
Cute fact to add... my friend was a member of the Alaska Corgi rescue club
They dognapped him. The old owner never said boo and signed the paperwork. Over the next few months they tried to place Henry in a new home. Henry was soooo messed up that he was deemed unplacable. Three families had taken him in and all three had returned him within a week.
This is how I came into the picture.
My friend was in love with my (now deceased) dog, Thomas.
I had a pug and he was the bomb. Too many stories to list here... He was such a cool dog that people (some of whom I barely knew) would call me in March or April jockeying for position to see if they could watch him when I went on vacation in January. When he died, there were people who took it much harder than I did.
My friend knew Thomas well... So she thought that maybe I'd be the perfect match for Henry. WRONG! Henry was a psycho piece of crap. He peed on evrything and ate a hole in my carpet. After two weeks with this dog I told my friend to come pick him up.
At the time we were 400 miles apart. So it took her a couple weeks to get back up to get him. She timed it with a class she was teaching. In that time frame I had a change of heart. I didn't make her take him back. I don't know why I changed my mind. It wasn't like he made a huge improvement. I'll never be able to explain why I changed my mind on this issue. It was like hanging on to a cheating girlfriend. There's no logic to justify it.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Today, Henry is the man. When I was still in Fairbanks he became the greeter for my store. He was a bit of a celebrity. People asked where he was when he didn't run up to the door. He's famous in my condo association too. Everyone knows Henry. Nobody knows me... I'm that guy who walks Henry. I have no shortage of volunteers to watch him when I have to go off island for a day or two.
The scary thing now... now that I've had him for five amazing years, is how close he came to being put down. Had I gone through with giving him back to my friend, she was going to take him straight to the vet and have him put down. Nobody wanted him. He was a basket case. Really, considering his background and his placement track record it would have been the right thing to do.
I gave him another chance. Had I been able to give him back instantly, he'd be gone. There's something to be said for aiting out a decision.
I don't know what stopped me. There was something that told me to give him another chance. I'm so glad I did. Today he's great. He's so good that more than one person has said that the next time they get a dog they want it to live with me for the first six months... (Not gonna happen) They give too much credit to me. I have another group that keeps asking me when I'll be off island next and who do I have to watch Henry....
Dejavu...
Point is... next time you're looking for a dog, think of the breeders second. Look toward the placement agencies who have great dogs waiting for a great home.
My situation is what I consider extreme but if I can find a great dog who was as abused as Henry... you can find a great dog who had a nice family that just couldn't keep him.
If you just want a great, loving pet, the breed doesn't even matter. Whether it's a dog or cat (even though cats are pure, unrefined evil) doesn't matter.
Look to your pound or your local non-kill shelter. I found a rock star straight out of rehab... you could too.
There's no specific Humane Society holiday that I'm referencing here. This is just my own experience. I love my dog. I love my old dog. Nothing more... Nothing less... Pets have value.
I have a Corgi. He's damn cute. He was born to a backyard breeder operation that didn't care about anything other than his show potential. He was doomed when one of his testicles failed to descend. Because of this he spent the first year of his life in a box. He was let out once a week so they could scrape the poop and pee out of his box. Then he was shoved right back in. Sometimes they fed him, sometimes they forgot. Nobody ever paid any attention to him.
A friend of mine who loves Corgis went to this breeder with her boyfriend looking for a new dog to breed with her current dog. After looking at some super-cute dogs in the breeder's house, her BF wandered off to the garage and found Henry, all skinny and malnourished in his crap filled box in the garage and was like... WTF?! He grabbed Henry and said they would be back to sign the paperwork... or call the cops. Whatever they prefered....
Cute fact to add... my friend was a member of the Alaska Corgi rescue club
They dognapped him. The old owner never said boo and signed the paperwork. Over the next few months they tried to place Henry in a new home. Henry was soooo messed up that he was deemed unplacable. Three families had taken him in and all three had returned him within a week.
This is how I came into the picture.
My friend was in love with my (now deceased) dog, Thomas.
I had a pug and he was the bomb. Too many stories to list here... He was such a cool dog that people (some of whom I barely knew) would call me in March or April jockeying for position to see if they could watch him when I went on vacation in January. When he died, there were people who took it much harder than I did.
My friend knew Thomas well... So she thought that maybe I'd be the perfect match for Henry. WRONG! Henry was a psycho piece of crap. He peed on evrything and ate a hole in my carpet. After two weeks with this dog I told my friend to come pick him up.
At the time we were 400 miles apart. So it took her a couple weeks to get back up to get him. She timed it with a class she was teaching. In that time frame I had a change of heart. I didn't make her take him back. I don't know why I changed my mind. It wasn't like he made a huge improvement. I'll never be able to explain why I changed my mind on this issue. It was like hanging on to a cheating girlfriend. There's no logic to justify it.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Today, Henry is the man. When I was still in Fairbanks he became the greeter for my store. He was a bit of a celebrity. People asked where he was when he didn't run up to the door. He's famous in my condo association too. Everyone knows Henry. Nobody knows me... I'm that guy who walks Henry. I have no shortage of volunteers to watch him when I have to go off island for a day or two.
The scary thing now... now that I've had him for five amazing years, is how close he came to being put down. Had I gone through with giving him back to my friend, she was going to take him straight to the vet and have him put down. Nobody wanted him. He was a basket case. Really, considering his background and his placement track record it would have been the right thing to do.
I gave him another chance. Had I been able to give him back instantly, he'd be gone. There's something to be said for aiting out a decision.
I don't know what stopped me. There was something that told me to give him another chance. I'm so glad I did. Today he's great. He's so good that more than one person has said that the next time they get a dog they want it to live with me for the first six months... (Not gonna happen) They give too much credit to me. I have another group that keeps asking me when I'll be off island next and who do I have to watch Henry....
Dejavu...
Point is... next time you're looking for a dog, think of the breeders second. Look toward the placement agencies who have great dogs waiting for a great home.
My situation is what I consider extreme but if I can find a great dog who was as abused as Henry... you can find a great dog who had a nice family that just couldn't keep him.
If you just want a great, loving pet, the breed doesn't even matter. Whether it's a dog or cat (even though cats are pure, unrefined evil) doesn't matter.
Look to your pound or your local non-kill shelter. I found a rock star straight out of rehab... you could too.
There's no specific Humane Society holiday that I'm referencing here. This is just my own experience. I love my dog. I love my old dog. Nothing more... Nothing less... Pets have value.