The meeting
Episode 2: The Meeting
In the basement of the shelter, the fearful border collie hid at the back of her cage, too afraid to step forward and eat the treats offered to her.
Volunteers specially trained to work with fearful dogs spent time with her each day, some even picking up extra shifts to help her. Though her odds of euthanasia were high, no one wanted to give up on her. There was just something about her that touched your soul.
Day after day, she continued to stay in the basement area for dogs who weren’t ready for adoption, while her peers from the puppy mill moved upstairs to the adoption floor and found families.
Volunteers began targeting me to adopt her. It was clear this fearful dog would need a calm home with patient people. It would be her only chance to succeed. Bryan and I both have a soft spot for dogs who need the most help. And one of our other dogs was deaf, so we knew how to communicate with dogs who couldn’t hear. I had also taken classes on dog behavior and knew a lot about puppy mills.
We were the right fit. But we already had two high-needs dogs who kept us busy, and were about to move to a new house. We had no plans to add a third dog.
That didn’t stop my peers from pressuring me. One volunteer sent me an email. “You really need to meet the deaf border collie from the mill. She’s your kind of dog.”
I ignored the message.
Another volunteer stopped by my desk to talk to me about adopting her, but luckily, I thought, I wasn’t there. She talked to my coworker instead and asked her to give me a nudge. When I got back to the office, the coworker pushed me to go downstairs and meet this fearful dog. I ignored her too. I didn’t even want to see her.
A few days later I went downstairs to a storage closet in a remote part of the shelter where we stored supplies for an annual meeting. It was down a hallway that was barely used, in an area I only visited once a year.
As I turned the corner, there she was. The deaf, shut-down border collie everyone was pressuring me to meet.
A volunteer was spending time with her, gently trying to socialize this fearful dog. Her eyes were sad, almost dead inside, and she cowered as I walked by.
But when I saw her, I knew.
I went back to my desk and sent a message to Bryan. “No pressure, but there’s this dog. She’s a puppy mill survivor, and deaf, and will need a quiet home with other dogs to mentor her.” I included the photo of her the shelter had taken for their database. She looked terrible. Her fur was matted, her expression both lifeless and terrified. “Whale-eyed” is the term used to describe a dog whose body language is saying they are especially scared.
Part of me hoped he would reply logically, telling me we had no business adding a third dog. But that’s not Bryan.
He sent a five-word reply. “What should we name her?”
To be continued…