RE: [PyrNet-L] Pyr in Kill Shelter - Rescue Story

["Bloomfield, Stephanie" <BlooS@GTH-LAW.com>]

This is my rescue story, it's a little long, 
but reading this post makes me want to tell this,
(and makes me want to be sure this dog is rescued, please report back).

Speaking as someone who just rescued a Pyr two days ago, I was shocked
that the shelter here keeps dogs only five days and had made no effort
to contact purebred rescue groups about the dog.  

My husband and I have been thinking about getting a dog for some time.
Within the last few weeks we made the decision that a dog was in our
future.  We also knew that the only specific breed we were interested in
was a Great Pyrenees.  We were in the process of contacting recommended
breeders and locating a puppy or young dog.  At work Wednesday I saw a
newspaper article about a minor fire at the shelter (the roof of the
*gulp* crematorium had caught fire -- minor damage, no injured people or
dogs).  The accompanying photo showed a 6 month old shepherd mix in a
carrier sitting by the fire trucks.  I thought -- we should really
consider adopting a dog from the shelter.  Realizing what was happening
at the crematorium and knowing we would be happy with an adopted mixed
breed or older dog, I felt an obligation to at least consider adopting
(or "rescuing") a dog.

My husband was out of town, kids away and I was heading home from work
still trying to convince myself I should go and see the dots.  I
figured, well the shelter is open for about another hour, I'll just look
around and see what is available for adoption and whether there are dogs
suitable for us.  I parked the car and sat there for a minuted.
Quelling my fear that I would be overwhelmed with grief, horror or pain
at the sight of dozens of animals who would not make it out of the
shelter and wishing I wasn't alone I went inside.  

It was overwhelming.  The cacophony of barks in all shapes and sizes
never stopped and echoed off the concrete walls.  The first dog I saw
was an adorable young retriever-lab mix about seven months old.  It
looked like a black retriever with floppier ears and was playing with a
yellow ball.  I couldn't help but smile watching it and it ran up and
smiled and barked at me looking happy.  I thought, someone will want
this lucky guy. (I'll give you the happy ending now, as I was leaving a
woman was adopting this adorable imp!  Both of them seemed very happy
together).

The next cage was sobering.  A bassett hound laying on his side only
moving his eyes to look at me with something like despair.  I know all
bassetts look sad, but this one made my eyes well up.  Choking back the
tears and willing myself to continue I walked around the corner to the
next row of cages ("cell block" is the term that comes to mind).  There
were lots of young (8 month to 2 year) middle sized healthy looking
dogs, lots of shepherd mixes, lab mixes, retriever mixes and numerous
rottweilers.  (According to the shelter folks, the purebreed they
receive the most often are rottweilers.)  

I was actually feeling pretty good at this point, there were lots of
acceptable friendly dogs who could work for our family and was thinking
that maybe I should go and just return in a couple days when my husband
was back in town and we could bring the kids and choose a dog together.
I turned away from the lab-shepherd mix I was talking with and stopped
still in my tracks.  His back was turned towards me, but the dog was
unmistakable.  A beautiful Great Pyrenees was sitting in the cage across
from me, alone and aloof.

I couldn't believe it!  I looked quickly at the card on his cage.  It
said he was a stray and handwritten on one side was "dog dominant".
Someone else had written below, "seems fine".  He was a male, came in as
a stray, and they estimated his age at 6 years.  I looked for a shelter
worker to talk about the dog, she glanced at his card and said, "he's
not available."  I asked why, and then she looked closer and said she
was mistaken the dog was available.  A dozen thoughts were running
through my head, he's beautiful, he sure has a lot of fur, his feet are
so BIG,  I've got to get Scott into see him as soon as he comes home...
I asked whether they could hold him so I could bring my husband in to
see the dog. She interrupted me and said, "I have to tell you this,
tonight is his last night and he won't be here after today."  They have
over 300 dogs come through in a week, and lack of space permits them to
keep dogs only five days.  I had come in 45 minutes before closing on
the 5th day.  I could hardly speak over the lump in my throat and the
tears were back in my eyes.  I asked her to let me try and contact him
by phone.  Never in a million years did I expect a Pyr to be in the
shelter.   I felt that somehow I was meant to have this dog and I wanted
to take him home.

I ran out to my car and of course didn't have the number of the hotel
where Scott was staying  -- I had left it at work.  It was after 5:00 so
my secretary was gone, I called the person whose office is next to mine
and she was there, I asked her to go in and read the number off the
little sticky note where I wrote down the number.  I called the hotel (a
small Inn in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island) and the woman who
answered knew who Scott was, and told me the group had left for the
beach and wouldn't be back for some time.  I was obviously agitated and
she promised to have him call me as soon as the group returned.  I next
called a good friend (mom to a golden and an australian shepherd mix)
and asked her to come to the shelter, that I wanted to adopt a dog and
needed a reality check to be sure I wasn't overlooking anything I should
be looking for -- and for moral support!  Melissa said she would be
right there so I went back in to visit the dog.

I asked another worker if he would bring the dog out so I could meet
him.  Because the dog had been exposed to another dog with kennel cough,
he couldn't take him out of the pen.  I asked to go in (mind you I'm in
navy blue linen slacks and silk blouse, I was on my way home from work
and only *looking*).  I had to step on a towel drenced with disinfectant
before I could go in and the floor sloped and it was extremely slipperly
footing.  The dog was so gentle and loving and silent (the card noted he
may have been debarked).  He began leaning against me, and when I
stopped petting him he would lay the side of his head against my stomach
and wait for more.  That is where Melissa found me, covered with white
hair hugging the dog.  

My phone finally rang while we were at the pet store buying food dishes,
a leash, dog food, brushes and treats.  I told him the story and told
him what had happened and offered to find another home for the dog if he
didn't work out.  Scott told me I did the right thing and then began
asking about the dog.  I told him he was six, and he asked "six weeks".
That was where my phone went dead...  I smiled thinking, boy is he in
for a surprise!  

We've had him two days now and haven't decided on a name (suggestions
are welcome!).   My husband is calling him "bear" and I don't really
like it much, althought he does look a little bear-like!  He is very
smart -- and a sweetheart. 
He seems to be adjusting okay, but wasn't happy to be put in the
basement when I left this morning.  He also doesn't seem to know any
commands.  Any tips on obedience training for an older dog?


>Gerry Kemske wrote:
>> 
>> >Well folks, here we go again. There is a male, adult, stray Great Pyr 
>> >the shelter here.
>
>Has anyone read "Chicken Soup for the Pet Lovers Soul"  ?
>There is one story about a "Puppy Express"  
>They transported a puppy across the country via many people.
>I live in Spokane, WA and although I have no room to shelter another
>Pyr, I would be willing to help with transport if he comes my way.
>We have a rescued Pyr and Newf, and I find rescue very rewarding
>and would love to help if need be.
>
>Sandy Berrens
>