Woof!!!!

I was all prepared to write a post relating to words, but last minute decided to write about something that is new  here….most of you are probably animal lovers, after all….

A few months ago, my beloved chihuahua, Minnie, crossed the proverbial Rainbow Bridge. She was fifteen and a half, and I had adopted her as a 12-week-old puppy from the shelter in Rohnert Park, California. Minnie was a great dog, so friendly. She loved everyone. Her only quirk was that she barked at the television incessantly. At first she barked only when she saw dogs on the screen. Then it became any animal. Then it became anything brightly colored or animated. Then it became…pretty much anything. I had a bark box for a while. It emitted a high- pitched sound when she barked that only she could hear. It worked like a charm — until it didn’t.

Minnie was a healthy girl. When she was older she developed chronic bronchitis and then dementia and with it, incontinence. When she began to have problems with her back, and thus her hind legs, I started thinking about  the inevitable. My vet told me Minnie would not make it easy for me. She would hang on and I would have to make the decision, which I finally did. Not an easy one. In fact, the vet said most people regret waiting too long.

Her shrine is in my living room.

I was going to visit my son in California in June, and I decided that after that trip, I would start searching for a dog to adopt. So when I returned I started looking online. I knew that I wanted a chihuahua (I had already had two) except for those moments when I wanted a retired racing greyhound (but I don’t have the large fenced-in yard they need). I thought a female somewhere between a puppy and two or three years old would be good. 

Years ago if you wanted to adopt a dog you went to the dog shelter. Now, there are all kinds of smaller dog rescues. Fortunately, there are websites where you can see dogs from a lot of these shelters in one place. I found some chihuahuas at a rescue in an expensive area of Tampa, where it costs $500 and up to adopt a dog, the younger the dog, the more expensive.

Before I decided to adopt, I had thought of just volunteering or of fostering dogs. But then I would repeatedly have to say goodbye to them — and be available when people wanted to meet the dog. So I decided to adopt.

I met a few chihuahuas at the rescue in South Tampa, where they were having an open house —  so the dogs were a little freaked out at all the activity. I had filled out an extensive questionnaire and showed them a video of my house. When I left they said (meaning all the 20-something women who were working there) they would get together and decide who was the best home for each dog. I had put down only one as an interest. These dogs were all a few years old and BIG for chihuahuas. Chihuahuas rarely weigh 15 or 20 pounds. But the dogs, clearly mixes of unknown origin, looked like chihuahuas. Fine with me, but I did want a dog 10 pounds or less so I could easily carry him or her around. Well, someone else got the dog I wanted. I am quite sure it is because of my age. The dog was probably around two, and I am sure younger people get the younger dogs. This did annoy me. I read the reviews of the place, and several people said the same thing: “Who are these women to decide who is the best home? I have owned dogs longer than these women have been alive.”

I was a little annoyed and went back online, thinking I would go elsewhere next time. 

I went to the real shelter website — the place with a lot of dogs, mostly pitbulls and other large dogs that unfortunately were never neutered or trained. I saw a tiny, 10-month-old female chihuahua on a Sunday night and decided to go look on Monday morning. But I had a doctor’s appointment that Monday at 10 a.m., so I knew I couldn’t get to the shelter until around 11, and the dog would already be adopted. Small, young dogs go in a flash. Sure enough, that dog was adopted right after they opened. So I decided to look at what else they had available. I had seen a couple of other small dogs on the site.

The first cage I passed held a little beige chihuahua with a cone on his head, who vigorously wagged his little tail when I passed. I thought he was cute and seemed friendly, and I continued my walk. Some of the large dogs leapt and growled, and it was a little scary. I passed another cute small dog, but it had long hair (groomer required), so I went back to the little chihuahua and asked to meet him.

He was so sweet! I ended up walking out of there with him. But on Pawdition! I had two weeks to decide. The reason I wanted the Pawdition and could get it is because he was turned in with basically no information. All they said was that he was six years old. As the person at the rescue said, “Perhaps the owner had to go to the hospital or maybe to jail.”

I knew I wanted to get the dog to my vet, and I understood I would have to pay myself, even though the dog belonged to the rescue at that point. I didn’t want to adopt a dog with major medical issues; I don’t have the money for major vet expenses, and no one knew why he was turned in. 

Well, I made an appointment with my longstanding vet for the next day. By then, Trunk, as he had been named, had developed a bad case of kennel cough (he had actually been at the shelter for only a week). The vet gave me some cough tabs and said it needed to run its course. Otherwise, she said, he seemed OK, but a little flea-ridden and rough looking!

It took me a while to figure out why anyone would name a dog Trunk. He has a big beige stripe all the way down his back, and it does resemble a tree trunk. I have, however, renamed him: Percival Xavier, otherwise known as Percy.

It was touch and go at first. He coughed constantly. I didn’t know if he was potty trained; he had a few accidents in the house, right after I had taken him outside. It was an ordeal to even get him outside. He didn’t like to go outside at all. He still doesn’t like it. He jumped out of his playpen when I left him to go out for a short while. Then,  he tried to get out of the playpen (thank goodness I was home — I had just gone to bed) and got his paw caught in the metal and was shrieking. I thought I would break his little paw rescuing him, but he was fine. 

At that point, I really didn’t know if I had the patience to deal with this. I am used to being on my own. I packed his stuff up and was going to return him.

But I couldn’t. 

And he suddenly turned into the most amazing dog! He is loveable and attached to me. He is not coughing any longer and is potty trained, It took me a day or two to retrain him from being in the shelter. He was obviously trained previously. He loves his toys (first dog I have had who plays with toys). He doesn’t bark — well, he  barks when he hears something or sees a dog, but he just started feeling comfortable enough to bark.

One thing remains: He has met my granddaughter, but he has not met my daughter’s two big dogs. Since she is my dog sitter, Percy must get along with them. They haven’t met because of his cough. From what I saw at the vet’s office, Percy doesn’t seem to like big dogs. Minnie got along with my daughter’s dogs, but she knew them from the time they were puppies. We shall see.

Adoption fee? None apparently! But I had donated everything of Minnie’s, so I have had to outfit Percy. I didn’t even have food. The shelter sent me home with some. I have bought for Percy: two collars and leashes, food, flea stuff, a brush, toys, treats, a tag, a popup play yard, a bed….

But it was all worth it.