With a new name and a new haircut, the nugget was officially in the witness protection plan and ready to start over. In celebration, the three of us headed out to lunch at a local dog-friendly restaurant. I don’t know what a typical date costs, but for a single woman to go to for lunch with two dogs, it was $60 including tip. And none of us got dessert.
The boys did well, but I discovered two things:
a. Gordie is a resource-guarder. He got pissy with Tucker for taking a sniff at his food. And
b. Gordie barks at other dogs.
The secondary intel from those two items was that:
a. Tucker is polite to resource guarders and backs down, and
b. if his friend calls out an alarm, he is will willing to back them up.
a. Gordie is a resource-guarder. He got pissy with Tucker for taking a sniff at his food. And
b. Gordie barks at other dogs.
The secondary intel from those two items was that:
a. Tucker is polite to resource guarders and backs down, and
b. if his friend calls out an alarm, he is will willing to back them up.
While I appreciate Tucker’s commitment to his friends, there are unfortunate consequences for that. Gordie weighed in at a little under 10 pounds; Tucker 60. So Gordie’s yelling didn’t mean much to anyone, but when Tucker lets loose his baritone bark, everyone ducks and covers.
We encountered the same issues while out walking. If Gordie had something to say to or about another dog, Tucker had to repeat it more loudly and more clearly.
Walks were stressful for me: doing my best to avoid any reactions and also dealing with the vast discrepancy in gravitational pull. A normal “Hey” tug on the leash to get Tucker’s attention that would is the physical equivalent of a whisper was a violent yank for Gordie, knocking him off his feet.
We encountered the same issues while out walking. If Gordie had something to say to or about another dog, Tucker had to repeat it more loudly and more clearly.
Walks were stressful for me: doing my best to avoid any reactions and also dealing with the vast discrepancy in gravitational pull. A normal “Hey” tug on the leash to get Tucker’s attention that would is the physical equivalent of a whisper was a violent yank for Gordie, knocking him off his feet.
But the one thing I can say for walks at least, is that no humping occurred. That was the major point of contention in their relationship. Like an 12 year old boy sticking his nut sack in the face of his sleeping friend, Gordie was a being a downright adolescent asshole.
After a few days of watching Tucker being a saint, I had had enough. Tucker is a pacifist. He avoids conflict at all costs (unless it involves a small dog being bullied by a big dog—then he feels the need to butt in). But Tucker’s avoidance was being taken advantage of and Gordie was beginning to bully. If I stepped in to reprimand, Tucker got mad at me. I was frustrated and seriously considering taking the shelter up on their offer to take Gordie in.
My rescue friends tried to console me, saying that's exactly what shelters are for: to keep lost dogs safe and rehome them. I tried to spin it in a way that I was doing what was best for Gordie: getting him out where he could be seen. But I felt guilt and shame for giving up. But I also felt terrible for what Tucker was going through.
So I went in to the shelter for another information-gathering session to determine if it was the right thing to do for Gordie and Tucker, this time without Gordie in tow. And this tie I received an entirely different…. What’s the word that is the opposite of “welcome”?
The officer gave me the third degree, never making eye contact but insinuating that I had prevented his owners from finding him. I asked why then, had I given them my information? I thought he was in the “found dogs” binder or whatever was used now. She said most people don’t say they’re looking for a lost dog and just go in the back, but if they do approach the front desk to say they are looking, the people at the front desk merely point them to the back rather than present them with the most current finds and take the information about the lost dog.
What.the.actual.fuck.
When I said I was considering bringing him in due to the humping thing, she said flat out, “We can’t guarantee that he won’t be euthanized.”
Well, no shit. Why do you think I didn’t leave him here to begin with??
Earlier in the week, I had been a fine citizen for helping to get the dog to safety and for offering to shelter at home. Now I was a horrible human for not leaving him there then, but also I was a shitty excuse for a human being for leaving him where he could be killed.
I felt like I had when I brought the kittens I found on Skyline Blvd to the Peninsula Humane Society a decade earlier. I was made to feel like I had caused their imminent demise. And just like then, I left the shelter, got in my truck, and cried.
I know shelter staff are under stress. And I recognize that they deal with a lot of people lying to them about where an animal comes from. But how can they tell if I’m lying or not if, like this officer, they do not make eye contact with me? She had no idea that I was telling the truth about coming in a few days prior, or about the whole incident in which a neighborhood got the dog to safety, and that I was in no way stealing the dog, nor was I trying to abandon my own dog by claiming I “found” him.
It was the week that the tides had turned for the shelters. In just a few days, more urgent messages started being sent out: the kennels were full, the shelters were operating over capacity. The rescues they relied on were also full. The community was not adopting, and pets were being surrendered or found at a record high.
People who go into animal welfare do so because they love animals; they never want to be forced to decide who lives or dies—especially when it’s a matter of space, not medical reasons. They were facing insurmountable challenges in finding pets homes. Had I dropped Gordie off here, he may not make it to a new home. I knew they would do all they could and keep him as long as possible, but there was no guarantee.
I had said “I’ll do it”. Now I needed to take responsibility. And that meant Gordie wasn’t going to the shelter. I had to see this through.
But I couldn’t let Tucker suffer through the annoyances and indignities of this little guy’s instinctual behavior. I would have to struggle through the next week, but when the clock ran out, Gordie’s balls were coming off.
After a few days of watching Tucker being a saint, I had had enough. Tucker is a pacifist. He avoids conflict at all costs (unless it involves a small dog being bullied by a big dog—then he feels the need to butt in). But Tucker’s avoidance was being taken advantage of and Gordie was beginning to bully. If I stepped in to reprimand, Tucker got mad at me. I was frustrated and seriously considering taking the shelter up on their offer to take Gordie in.
My rescue friends tried to console me, saying that's exactly what shelters are for: to keep lost dogs safe and rehome them. I tried to spin it in a way that I was doing what was best for Gordie: getting him out where he could be seen. But I felt guilt and shame for giving up. But I also felt terrible for what Tucker was going through.
So I went in to the shelter for another information-gathering session to determine if it was the right thing to do for Gordie and Tucker, this time without Gordie in tow. And this tie I received an entirely different…. What’s the word that is the opposite of “welcome”?
The officer gave me the third degree, never making eye contact but insinuating that I had prevented his owners from finding him. I asked why then, had I given them my information? I thought he was in the “found dogs” binder or whatever was used now. She said most people don’t say they’re looking for a lost dog and just go in the back, but if they do approach the front desk to say they are looking, the people at the front desk merely point them to the back rather than present them with the most current finds and take the information about the lost dog.
What.the.actual.fuck.
When I said I was considering bringing him in due to the humping thing, she said flat out, “We can’t guarantee that he won’t be euthanized.”
Well, no shit. Why do you think I didn’t leave him here to begin with??
Earlier in the week, I had been a fine citizen for helping to get the dog to safety and for offering to shelter at home. Now I was a horrible human for not leaving him there then, but also I was a shitty excuse for a human being for leaving him where he could be killed.
I felt like I had when I brought the kittens I found on Skyline Blvd to the Peninsula Humane Society a decade earlier. I was made to feel like I had caused their imminent demise. And just like then, I left the shelter, got in my truck, and cried.
I know shelter staff are under stress. And I recognize that they deal with a lot of people lying to them about where an animal comes from. But how can they tell if I’m lying or not if, like this officer, they do not make eye contact with me? She had no idea that I was telling the truth about coming in a few days prior, or about the whole incident in which a neighborhood got the dog to safety, and that I was in no way stealing the dog, nor was I trying to abandon my own dog by claiming I “found” him.
It was the week that the tides had turned for the shelters. In just a few days, more urgent messages started being sent out: the kennels were full, the shelters were operating over capacity. The rescues they relied on were also full. The community was not adopting, and pets were being surrendered or found at a record high.
People who go into animal welfare do so because they love animals; they never want to be forced to decide who lives or dies—especially when it’s a matter of space, not medical reasons. They were facing insurmountable challenges in finding pets homes. Had I dropped Gordie off here, he may not make it to a new home. I knew they would do all they could and keep him as long as possible, but there was no guarantee.
I had said “I’ll do it”. Now I needed to take responsibility. And that meant Gordie wasn’t going to the shelter. I had to see this through.
But I couldn’t let Tucker suffer through the annoyances and indignities of this little guy’s instinctual behavior. I would have to struggle through the next week, but when the clock ran out, Gordie’s balls were coming off.
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