Random Bits from the SPCA

Before my shift in the cat adoption shelter on Sunday, I tried sneaking in early to take a picture of Ruby. Sadly (for me anyways, but much better for her) she was no longer at the SPCA. I hope she's in a happier home.

The dog I want to walk next: Bowie! Also a German Shepard, he seems like a very excitable dog (last week, as soon as all the volunteers starting getting the dogs out for their walk, he was jumping around and whining and barking impatiently). When I left on Sunday, I walked by his kennel. He was whimpering a little, so I gave him a few pets. He immediately lay down and smooshed himself against the fencing, so I stayed and petted him some more. Poor boy.

A cat in the adoption room made me realize how sweet and nice my little Zina is (even is she is afraid of being touched and cuddled sometimes!) Early in the afternoon this kitten was content to hide out in her box, but after a few hours and some attention she came out and let herself be petted. When it was quiet, I thought she'd like to get out and walk around the room for a bit. I let her out, but people started coming in so I needed to get her back in her kennel. As soon as I reached down to scoop her up, she let out a creepy "HIISSSSSSS" that made me freeze in my tracks. From then on, she was on to me as I tried luring her back in with treats and distracting her with toys, but to no avail. Furthermore, she hissed at all the other cats that were in their kennels for no reason! When my colleague finally was able to scoop her up, she was quiet for about a second until she let out this unearthly shriek, combined with the hissing and the protraction of every claw on her paws. I kid you not, it was like something out of the Exorcist. Creepy...

One more sad story about how pets can sometimes end up being neglected. The woman who ran the volunteer orientation told us how she had gotten one of her dogs from a rescue shelter. Apparently, the dog was from a backyard breeder who had adopted her out to an elderly woman. The woman had Alzheimers, and eventually, forgot that she owned a dog! As you can probably deduce, that meant that she also forgot to feed the dog, clean up the dog, etc. When they found her, she was literally close to death (the dog, not the woman), the hair had fallen off her tail so that it resembled a rats tail, and she was essentially skin and bones. She was nursed back to health, and is now lives with three other dogs in a better home.

For Leo

My recent post about my dog walking experience brought back memories of my first and only dog, Leo, so I thought it would be fitting to pay tribute to him in my Facebook way.

My parents had gotten Leo a few years before I was born, but my earliest remembrance of him occured when I was about six years old. It was a summer evening, and my sister (who was about four at the time), myself and my dad were all out in the backyard playing with Leo.I was running around the lawn, and Leo was running with me, but at one point it seemed that he began chasing me. He caught up to me and jumped on me, knocking me off my feet and onto the grass. Of course now I realize that he was just trying to play with me, but at that time my six year old mind was convinced he was trying to eat me or something. So for the next five years or so, I was very nervous and frightened around my poor Leo.

Besides the knocking me over incident, Leo was well socialized with people. The way I see it, he would've made a useless guard dog as every stranger was a new friend! Unfortunately, my parents failed to socialize him to other dogs, so the sight of another dog would cause him to go into an aggressive-fearful frenzy. We used to walk him through a forest down near our house, and would usually let him off the leash there. It was the site of a few dog fights, all initiated by him (I remember he had to get a few stitches in the aftermath of one, courtesy of a pair of little terriers).

Around the time I turned eleven, my fear of Leo had subsided to the point where I would actually take him on little walks on my own, and eventually it vanished altogether when I would hug him and he would sit there and happily accept it.

Sadly, by this time Leo was already pushing thirteen years, which made him a sexagenarian in human years. He began to develop arthritis in his bones and in his joints. The vet gave us pills to give to him to ease the pain, but Leo was suspicious and it became a huge ordeal to try to get him to take them (My idea of trying to sneak the pill in under a treat failed miserably as Leo would nip the treat and leave the pill). As with many diseases, his arthritis got worse and worse until it was basically crippling him.Then came the summer day when my aunt arrived to take Leo to the vet, for the very last time. I remember my dad lifting him into the back of my aunts' hatchback, which was always lined with blankets for Leo. My sister and I each gave him one last hug goodbye, while my aunt was close to bursting into tears (out of all of us, she was the most attached to Leo). She didn't come back that day.

Looking back, I can see that Leo was a fantastic dog. Sure, he had his shortcomings when it came to other dogs, but when he was around us he was the nicest, most loyal dog. I wish I had known before what I know now about dogs, and had engaged in playing with him, training him, and keeping him more company.Which leads me to this. I now know that my family were awful owners, and we neglected Leo in providing him with constant companionship and care. Yes, we did feed him and change his water and clean up after him everyday. No, we never ever abused him or anything like that. But we kept him outside in a fenced portion of the backyard all the time, which meant the time he spent with us was limited to whenever we felt like taking him for a walk. Over the years, even the time we spent walking him dwindled to the once a week my aunt would faithfully drive all the way out from Vancouver just to walk him and spend a few hours with him. I think the only time he was allowed inside the house was when he was a puppy, and as soon as he was big enough he was shunted outdoors. When I mentioned this to my mother a few months ago, she said, "Well, their type like being outdoors." Leo was a Husky mix, so technically yes, they like and can tolerate the outdoors, but they also need constant constant company, otherwise they get lonely and depressed. Which is how I think Leo felt towards the end of his life.

My parents didn't intentionally mean to raise our dog badly; they just did not educate themselves properly about all the details about owning a dog (plus, I have a feeling my father wanted a dog and my mom did not, but she consented to having one anyways). At least I know well enough now that raising a dog entails research, dedication, but most of all, it becomes a part of your family. In memory of Leo, I hope I have a dog someday that I can take joy in raising, but until then I hope everyone that considers getting a pet of any kind will acknowledge every aspect of love and care that animals require.

Adventures in Dogwalking: Ruby

For those of you who know me well, I have become a pet enthusiast in the last few years, thanks to my wonderful yet sometimes aloof god-daughter cat, Zina (see photo albums "Zina Boboshinski" and "Technically Not my Cat..."). My enthusiasm drew me to the local SPCA branch, where I've decided to volunteer my time as a Cat Adoption Counsellor and a Dog Walker once a week (yes, those are official titles. Woot!). Today was my first shift as a Dog Walker.

I was a little nervous as to what dog I would be paired with as I waited outside the kennels while the Volunteer Co-ordinator assigned the dogs to everyone. What if I got a dog that jumped all over me and attempted to run in a million directions while I fought in vain to take it around the 5 min trail behind the SPCA? What if I got a dog who hated the way I smelled (I'm not insinuating I smell, but dogs have a million times the sense of smell than people)? What if it hated women (actually, there was a dog there that supposedly hated men). Luckily, I got the bestest, nicest dog I could've had for my first day of dog walking: Ruby.

Ruby is a German Shepard. According to her tag, she was a Humane Society seizure, so I assume she was being neglected by her previous owners (jerks!). The co-ordinator asked me if I thought I could handle her as she was very strong, and as I am always egotistically confident of my own strength, I assured her I could. And I did. Woot woot! But Ruby was very strong, and although she wasn't one of those dogs that constantly struggle against their leash, she did have a very strong lead. But after the first few times around the trail, she seemed to relax a little, especially after I petted/massaged her back a couple of times. She didn't bark once, not even at the other dogs nearby. In fact, she seemed much more interested in becoming friends with them than asserting herself, which makes me think, in my uncertified, non-expert amateur opinion, that she would be considered a submissive dog. She was very curious about EVERYTHING (every tree, spot of grass, and coil of poo was qualified for closer inspection) but not very interested in toys (my many thrown balls and calls of "Fetch, Ruby!" went unheeded, and therefore unfetched). But my most exciting moment was my attempt to teach her the command, "Sit." I walked her up to the treat table, grabbed a treat, and held it in my hand. Holding her steady, I raised my hand with the treat in it and said, loudly and firmly, "Sit, Ruby! Sit!" while bringing my hand down slightly each time I said it. After a few repeats, she sat! The second time around, she sat down much quicker! Yaaaayy! (Ok, someone probably taught her the command before, but it was still exciting to see it executed :P)

After a hour or so of walking and playing, it was time for her to go back into her kennel. This is the sad part for a lot of dogs, as many of them start getting anxious again and don't want to go back. Ruby went in without incident, but not before some whining and mild attempts to get away from the shelter. After she was back in, I gave her a little pet through the fence and said "Bye, Ruby!" She turned around in her kennel and quietly watched us walk away.

I hope I get to walk her again next week (unless someone adopts her, but I don't think she's available for adoption yet).