I won’t lie: I cried. A lot.
I really couldn’t see how I was going to find this dog a home. I didn’t have unlimited funds for a two dog household. I couldn’t even really spare the money for a roadtrip to Oregon and back to get him a home there. But when the words “I’ll take him” fell out of my mouth, I had committed. I was ashamed that I had even considered bringing him to the shelter after a few days of Tuck's face being assaulted. That was resolved with a surgery that couldn’t have come fast enough. Now that there was peace in the house, Gordie still needed a home, but shelters were filling up quickly. Rescues were full. No one was adopting. From anywhere.
My local rescuer made a call and got me a spot at an adoption fair for a local rescue. I brought Gordie to the Gelson’s parking lot that Saturday morning and sat with a woman whose exceptionally cute, super sweet, lovely terrier mix was also looking for a home. She had been fostering her for seven months. My jaw dropped. I didn’t have seven months to get Gordie a home. I had until the end of summer, possibly just the end of June if the actors got a contract together and WGA went back to negotiating.
I really couldn’t see how I was going to find this dog a home. I didn’t have unlimited funds for a two dog household. I couldn’t even really spare the money for a roadtrip to Oregon and back to get him a home there. But when the words “I’ll take him” fell out of my mouth, I had committed. I was ashamed that I had even considered bringing him to the shelter after a few days of Tuck's face being assaulted. That was resolved with a surgery that couldn’t have come fast enough. Now that there was peace in the house, Gordie still needed a home, but shelters were filling up quickly. Rescues were full. No one was adopting. From anywhere.
My local rescuer made a call and got me a spot at an adoption fair for a local rescue. I brought Gordie to the Gelson’s parking lot that Saturday morning and sat with a woman whose exceptionally cute, super sweet, lovely terrier mix was also looking for a home. She had been fostering her for seven months. My jaw dropped. I didn’t have seven months to get Gordie a home. I had until the end of summer, possibly just the end of June if the actors got a contract together and WGA went back to negotiating.
Then my local rescuer got a lead on someone who had recently lost their 17 year old dog. They had another pup in the house and was looking for a new friend for their pup. It was a full family, and their dog had lived 17 years—so they must be doing something right. They were in a rent-controlled ADU, one parent worked from home… photos of the other dog showed happiness and joy. It seemed like it could be a match. And if it didn’t work, I could easily take him back.
They were willing to meet me to get him, but I wanted to see their place myself. I called it “a home check”, which is how it was referred to back in the day, but I was recently told that language was no longer acceptable. But let’s be honest: that’s what it is, making sure statements on the application are truthful like if they have a fence and also just checking things out for dangers or hazards this dog in particular may have (e.g. if you have a dog that likes to swallow things, small LEGO pieces and children’s action figures on the floor are a hazard, but a senior dog who has no interest in those things would be fine).
References were great, but seeing it in person was necessary for me for all the above reasons. And I do believe that ultimately, the dog chooses. I needed to gauge how Gordie felt in the space with these people. I had seen Gordie at his out-of-his-wits terrified state when we he was dodging traffic and capture. And I knew what his happiness looked like when playing Tugboat with Tucker.
I brought everything with us the assumption that he’d be staying.
We met outside the house with their terrier pup who was very excited to meet Gordie. The pup had not been neutered but he would be soon—he was young, but of age to get it done. We went for a walk around the block, and the un-neutered pup constantly kept trying to hump Gordie.
Karma’s a bitch.
We got it somewhat under control and Gordie started to feel comfortable enough that we went to the house. We sat outside where there was a tree and some astro-turf under a shade, but no real lawn—just concrete. That’s fine. They were in a neighborhood of sprawling parks, so Gordie would have plenty of grass.
Gordie seemed okay with the couple of children who were there too. So all seemed well.
I stepped inside, and that was when I taken aback. There were pee pads on the kitchen floor… with poop and pee on them… I’ll say it again: in the kitchen. It was only five steps to the door outside.
I asked why there were pee pads. It was explained that as their older dog got worse off healthwise, the dog became incontinent so rather than stress about making it outside in time, they allowed him to pee inside. Okay, that’s fair.
But why now?
Gordie was house-trained, generally a must-have for adopters. However, if this was Gordie’s home and this is how they wanted to run things, that was on them. I thought it was rather gross given that outside was right there. Not like they had to travel eighteen floors down in an elevator or make their way through treacherous urban streets to find grass.
I let Gordie stay while I went to the truck for Gordie’s things and to call my Oregon rescuer friend. I told her the situation, as my instinct was this wasn’t the right place for him, but I had no practical reason to say No. She talked to me about how we can’t judge people based on how they live or their income. It was true; the house wasn’t much, but being rent-controlled, they could spend money on their pups and vacations and everywhere they go with them. And they had. So that’s fine. But the pee pads…
She did say that it was a concern because if they got the dog back, once the dog gets used to peeing inside, retraining is a nightmare. It makes a dog less adoptable. However, if this is a forever home, then that’s on them.
Karma’s a bitch.
We got it somewhat under control and Gordie started to feel comfortable enough that we went to the house. We sat outside where there was a tree and some astro-turf under a shade, but no real lawn—just concrete. That’s fine. They were in a neighborhood of sprawling parks, so Gordie would have plenty of grass.
Gordie seemed okay with the couple of children who were there too. So all seemed well.
I stepped inside, and that was when I taken aback. There were pee pads on the kitchen floor… with poop and pee on them… I’ll say it again: in the kitchen. It was only five steps to the door outside.
I asked why there were pee pads. It was explained that as their older dog got worse off healthwise, the dog became incontinent so rather than stress about making it outside in time, they allowed him to pee inside. Okay, that’s fair.
But why now?
Gordie was house-trained, generally a must-have for adopters. However, if this was Gordie’s home and this is how they wanted to run things, that was on them. I thought it was rather gross given that outside was right there. Not like they had to travel eighteen floors down in an elevator or make their way through treacherous urban streets to find grass.
I let Gordie stay while I went to the truck for Gordie’s things and to call my Oregon rescuer friend. I told her the situation, as my instinct was this wasn’t the right place for him, but I had no practical reason to say No. She talked to me about how we can’t judge people based on how they live or their income. It was true; the house wasn’t much, but being rent-controlled, they could spend money on their pups and vacations and everywhere they go with them. And they had. So that’s fine. But the pee pads…
She did say that it was a concern because if they got the dog back, once the dog gets used to peeing inside, retraining is a nightmare. It makes a dog less adoptable. However, if this is a forever home, then that’s on them.
Gordie wasn’t completely uncomfortable, and I thought it would be unfair to not give it a shot. They were good people. He’d be loved. It wasn’t the life I envisioned for him, but it didn’t make it less worthy.
The adoption contract was signed, payment made, and when I got home, I changed over his microchip to their names. It was done, Gordie was home… or so I thought.
The adoption contract was signed, payment made, and when I got home, I changed over his microchip to their names. It was done, Gordie was home… or so I thought.
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