My Failed Pet Adoption

I am making myself write about this for two reasons: because denial is my best friend and I tend to bottle up heart break, and because I hope that maybe someone can relate to what I experienced.

I have wanted a dog for a looong time. Over the last couple of years I have read about different breeds and their behaviors and I have spent time asking questions. This year I got my own place, and after being there for several months, all of they sudden I felt it was the right time to adopt a dogie.

Especially over the last few months I have really felt like I wanted a little animal to take care of and to keep me company. Most recently I started looking through Humane Society web pages...just to look.  Then, one day, I asked Mike (my fiance) if we could look at a specific shelter because they seemed to have a really good variety of animals listed and I liked that. We walked in knowing that we may very well walk out with a sweet pet to love. And if you have ever been to one of those shelters, you know that it is nearly impossible not to walk out of there with a new pet. And that is what happened to us. We walked around looking at all the little dogs, staring back at us begging to be taken home, but I tried to keep my composure and read through all their descriptions to see which one may fit us best. I knew I wanted a medium to small dog that was house trained and would be OK at my town home because I don't have a backyard. We walked around and wrote down a couple of names of the dogs that met that criteria. And then there was Connor (not his real name), a Beagle that seemed so sweet and cute. I had read a lot about Beagles because that was my "dream dog breed" from the very beginning. But because of what I had read, I was aware that Beagles needs a lot of exercise because they are hound dogs and they like to be outside.  So we skipped him over. As we were walking around again, we decided to write down his name just to find out about him. When we showed the lady at the desk the list, she got very excited about Connor and said that he was a very sweet dog and she had hoped she could take him home, but he had come into the shelter right after she had adopted another dog. I told her that I liked him but was concerned about his well-being because I lived in a town home. She and the dog caregiver told me that Connor would actually be OK in a town home because he had lived inside his whole life (he was an adult in dog years) and that he would probably be OK if I just walked him at least an hour a day. I told her I was willing to do that. We discussed some other concerns and it seemed like everything was OK and he was a good fit for us. We met him and fell in love with him instantly. So we signed the papers, paid the fees, learned more about him and took him home.

(photo taken by fastcrash)

This is where it gets hard. It gets hard because from then on, he was really a wonderful dog. He was house trained and listened and obeyed to a lot of simple commands. He didn't jump on furniture or chew on things, didn't bark inside, and he provided a lot of love and companionship to me. Connor did struggle with a lot of separation anxiety and did have a few accidents here and there when he couldn't see me (he had to see me at all times to be calm). But I had expected something like that and I dealt with thinking that it would get better with time; he had just gone through a traumatizing experience of loosing his family and had had a lot of change.  He howled and cried a lot the second night I had him, so the next night I got him a Thundershirt.  He seemed to love it and it really worked! He looked a lot more relaxed and only whimpered a little bit before he feel asleep. I highly recommend it.With that said, I knew and really hoped that his anxiety was temporary and it would get better with time. And I felt over all I could deal with that.

I was concerned about him not being able to relieve himself when I was at work, and since his anxiety was really bad, I was told and read that it would be best for him to be left in a crate because it is a comforting small space.  I was very lucky to have family and friends who offered to take him out of the crate to keep him company and give him a potty break when I was at work. And that is what they did. The days I was working, my family or Mike came to take him out, walk him a little bit and just keep him company. They usually stayed for a couple of hours.

So those breakes, plus the long walks before and after work (at least an hour in the morning and 30 to 45 min at night) were supposed to provide him a lot of exercise. Plus when I was home he was always by my side.

I also took him to pet stores and we spent several hundred dollars buying him toys, comfort stuff, a great bed, food, and hygiene things. 

So all the little things he struggled with I felt we could work on.  I was asking for a lot of guidance from friends and professional trainers, and I was reading info about it like crazy.

Then the other day, I had walked him for over an hour in the morning and we had had a really nice time. Then he attacked a little child. I won't give any details about it but I just want to say that it was out of no where, even though I had tried to take precautions because I didn't know how he would react around kids. He went from 0 to 100 in about 2 seconds and almost really hurt this child. Luckily I had been holding on to him really tightly and as a result the child was unharmed, other than being extremely scared and possibly scratched. I was mortified and completely heart broken in an instant. I walked the little kid home and talked to her mom and apologized profusely. And then I went home and cried. It wasn't a "look nervous, bark and bite" situation. It was far worse than that, an attack. It was a very serious situation. I didn't know what to do. I live in an area where there are many children playing outside all the time, and I have nieces and nephews that are too important to me to allow to be near a dog that may or may not attack them. I became extremely worried. What could have happened to this sweet dog in his past life that would have affected him like this?

It was a hard day for me. I tried to figure out what to do for many hours. Finally when I felt more composed I called a professional dog trainer that we had had some interactions with and relayed what happened to see if we could make an appointment so she could start helping us right away. Instead, she shocked me by telling me that I should take Connor back to the shelter. She told me that because of his age, and not really knowing what his situation was before I adopted him, and because of the nature of the attack, he was dangerous and I could spend a year or more trying to train him but it was likely that it would not ever work. She also told me to give myself "a brake" and understand that it was not my fault but that he had come to me that way.

That was easier said than done. I completely blamed myself and felt like a huge failure. Why couldn't I help a good dog with ONE major problem? My heart started breaking to pieces and I cried so much my eyes were almost swollen shut the next day.

Mike helped me call several other trainers to get other opinions and unfortunately all of them said the same thing. I sought the counsel of several friends who are dog lovers and have had many pets for years, and almost everyone said the same thing. I asked family who have owned dogs for years and would never do anything to harm an animal, and they said the same thing. I even asked a friend who is a K-9 trainer, and he said the same thing. We asked one more trainer, and realized that there was nothing we could do. Failure...

The next day, I got up, let him potty, fed him, played with him, took him on a long walk, packed up all his toys, food, treats, bed, put him in my vehicle with his two favorite toys, and headed back to the pound. It was a horrible feeling. I cried most of the way there. It was an hour drive. I tried to keep it together not to give him anxiety and he did sleep most of the time. Once in a while when he would wake up, I would reach back, pet him and he would lick my hand and arm. Heart breaking...

We finally got to the shelter, he was just excited to get out of the car, which made me feel even worse. I walked him to the front desk, to the same lady that had helped me get him in the first place, told her what had happened and we cried together. And then he was taken back to the kennel. I tried to ignore his whimpering because there was nothing I could do to comfort him anymore. I donated all his things to them because I wanted him to have his toys, and because I couldn't bare taking any of his belongings back with me even if we get another pup, because it would remind me of Connor.  Hurt...

I finally told the lady that he was wonderful and would be great in a home where children are not around. He was always loving to all the "big people" he met. Then I cried some more and walked away. The best way I can describe the feeling of walking away is by comparing it to walking into an air plane saying goodbye to a friend you love, knowing you will never see them again. And you don't know what is going to happen to them. And then on top of that, add the fact that you were their protector, provider, and care giver...you were their human. Devastated...

 Getting home and not seeing him, and seeing the open spaces where his crate and toys used to sit was really hard. All I can do is hope and pray that someone will be able to provide the life that he needs. And pray I have done a lot.

I wanted to share this because I feel that even though a lot of people have been very understanding some other people have treated me like a bad person who got sick of their dog and decided to get rid of him. I wonder how many other ones of you have had to experience something as terrible as this, after looking for every option to avoid it, and then have received the same type of response.  It has been a very difficult experience but I hope that if any of us have ever felt resentment towards someone because of their choice to take a pet to the shelter, that we will be more kind and supportive; the owner may have loved that pet more than anyone could understand, they may have had many sleepless nights comforting and taking care of that animal, they may have given up a lot of things to take care of that animal, and they may have wanted more than anything to keep them...but that choice may have been the only one they had.