Adopting a Rescue Dog

My husband and I had shelled out a pretty penny for our first dog, a German Shepherd that we named Otto. Bred to work, he was from healthier European stock, and, we decided, that was worth the money. Besides, Wyatt was dead set on training a puppy.

Three years later, we talked about adding another dog to our family. I wanted to adopt--not only to save a dog that had been a stray, or given up by his family, but because I didn't want to experience the stresses of puppyhood again.

One day, while browsing PetFinder at work (don't judge, sometimes you need to look at cute animals to relieve some stress during the day) I came across this photo:

Immediately struck by his eyes (heterochromia, a common trait in huskies) I sent his picture to Wyatt, who responded with enthusiasm.

"Oh my God. Can we jump on this--right now? LOOK AT HIM."

We went through the application process, which involved a very lengthy questionnaire. After filling out where we lived, whether we owned or rented, who our vet was, how many other animals we had in the house, and whether our yard was fenced in, we sent off the email and waited.

And waited.

Now, it's important to remember that all adoption agencies are different. Some, like our local humane society, will let you walk in and adopt an animal the same day. Others, usually smaller, privately owned centers, do a longer vetting process. If you plan on adopting from a small place, maybe one that fosters animals in-house, plan on meeting with the foster family so they can judge if it's a good fit. They're there to make sure the dog goes with the right family, to avoid further heartbreak down the line.

The particular place we worked with was run by a single woman who owned a large wooded property in the southern part of the state. The dogs in her care weren't kept in kennels, but lived in her house as a member of the family. Knowing she must be inundated with applications and rescues, we waited as patiently as we could,

Then we got the call. We sweated nervously as she ran through the usual questions about our work schedules, and our experience with dogs.

"You need to know," she said, "that his previous owner gave him up because he has some bad separation anxiety. He destroyed quite a few things in her home."

"We can work with that," I said. "My hope is that having Otto in the house with him will give him an outlet and help calm him down--you know, if he sees that Otto isn't upset when we leave, it may help. And we can crate train him too, if that alone doesn't work."

After ascertaining that we sounded like a good fit, we made an appointment to go and meet Titan. The first Saturday in December, we woke up to find out that freezing rain had made the roads slick, and it was a two hour drive. Because we were determined (and a little stupid, let's be honest), we chanced it.

It was worth it.

Wyatt had cautioned me against looking at or thinking of new names for him. Normally rational, he became nearly superstitious about this, insisting that if we picked a name, the adoption wouldn't go through.

But the first meeting ended up being the last meeting we needed. We clicked immediately, and when we told his foster mom that we decided to call him Nuka, she thought it was perfect.

Introducing him to Otto went well. Conventional wisdom is to introduce the dogs on neutral territory, so in sub-freezing temperatures, we walked them in our local park together. It wasn't long before they got comfortable with each other, and this sight became common occurrence.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, and this is the part where we bump up against the truths of owning a rescue dog.

He really was destructive. Once we ascertained that we needed to crate him to keep our belongings safe while we were at work, things became better. But there were several days where I was happy that the only thing I came home to was an accident in the kitchen, and not anything worse.

We couldn't let him out of our sight, not even to use the shower, otherwise he would poop on the living room floor. We ended up tossing all the rugs out of the house. He was a snuggly, quiet dog that loved playing with Otto, but there were some days when I wondered if this was too much for us to handle.

The adjustment period for a dog is, ultimately, dependent on the dog. Some take to their new homes right away, others take time. To be safe, give your new dog three months to adjust. You may find out that you have a very different animal on your hands. For us, the first three months were a challenge. It was clear he hadn't had much structure in his previous home, and he learned quickly how our routine operates.

It's been six months since we brought Nuka into the family. He's settled down quite a lot. We still need to crate him when we leave, but we can trust him while we shower. We found out he's scared of brooms, which leads us to wonder what his home life was like before, but he's learning now that brooms are for sweeping, and it never comes near him.

Rescue dogs come with baggage. It's a fact of life, and it can lead to some struggles initially. Make sure that you know of a good trainer, and that you know what behavioral issues you are prepared to handle at the outset. Not every adoption story is always a happy one, but knowing the bad as well as the good can help you, as well as your dog, take on anything that comes your way.