Friday, January 25, 2013

Suggestions and Stipulations

Even if it was not going to work out, while the kids wandered around the shelter, I asked the man if we could take the little one someplace quiet so I could have some one-on-one time. I wasn’t sold on the pooch yet, and I wanted to see if I could get him to sit. I didn’t want any of us to get attached, but at the same time I didn’t want to take a dog home that didn’t want to let me to practice using my behaviorist skills.
The man allowed the indulgence and ushered the dog and me to a small, private “get acquainted” room. I knew I didn’t have much time before the kids would discover me with the dog, so once alone in that room, I got busy. Not only was I able to get the dog to sit, I was also able to get him to track the treat and follow me around the room off leash. I thought it was a great sign, and by the time the kids found me working with my new friend, he was sitting on the floor by my side. I felt like I had located a golden nugget, and I didn’t want anyone to discover that there was more gold in here until I had secured it all for myself. I gave some treats to the kids, told them to see if they could get the dog to sit, and took off to look for the volunteer who had been assisting me.
“What’s the story with that stray little doggie?” I had located the man in a room where he had grabbed the magazine earlier. I guessed it was like an office for the people who helped out at the shelter. When I looked around I saw sign in sheets, books about dogs and cats, a lot of magazines, and animal supplies everywhere. I felt a little like I was intruding, but he made me feel at ease, gesturing towards a whiteboard with notes written about the dogs that were available.“My boy seems to have bonded with him already. I know the dog is not available until next week. Is he off limits, or something?” I continued.
            “Kind of,” he replied. “We hold dogs for two weeks after they have been picked up to give the owner time to locate them here at the shelter… in case they are lost, and someone wants them back.” The man went on to inform me that he had seen this sort of thing happen quite often, and that it was unlikely anyone would come in to claim the dog by now. I felt encouraged as we walked back to the room where the kids were still playing with the little stray.
“Small dogs are very popular, and this one is a pure breed,” he continued. “If you want him as your pet, you are going to have to work for it.” He was addressing my son more than me.
In the end, his advice was simple. Keep the dog “busy” everyday; monopolize his time at the shelter in an effort to try and keep other people from becoming interested in adopting him. This way we would narrow down the odds of having to compete in a lottery drawing. We were additionally instructed to be here as the shelter opened its doors on the dog’s release day. For once, I felt like not having a job was a good thing.
            The volunteer left us alone again to play with the dog and mull things over, but we were already convinced that it was worth a try. We took over as caretakers for our little stray friend at that moment, and none of us wavered in our resolve to adopt him. We stayed at the shelter until it closed that day, and by the time we were home, we were planning our next visit. We spent the entire weekend at the animal shelter, and during the weekdays when the kids were out of school, I would pick them up and we’d drive off to the shelter to visit our dog “in jail.”
            The folks who worked at the shelter became accustomed to seeing our faces, and they eventually allowed us to walk the dog outside along a sidewalk, if we stayed close to the shelter. So by the time adoption day came, we were well acquainted with the dog, who had by now learned to sit on command. He was a terror on the leash, walking around the shelter, but we were all sure that we could get him under control over time. What we loved most about him was how affectionate he was. He loved to be held, and petted, and hugged, and he loved to sit and relax in our laps.
            On the Wednesday that our potential pet was “available.” I dropped off the kids at school, and listened to their explicit instructions not to be late to the shelter. I assured them that I would be on time, knowing full well that I didn’t plan on being late. So it wasn’t a surprise when I was parked outside the animal shelter exactly thirty minutes before the doors would open. My plan was to watch for the first sign of life, and then go in to announce my intentions before anyone else could stop me or compete with me for our dog.
            Finally, someone unlocked the doors. Mine was the only car in the lot, and it felt great knowing that our plan to monopolize the time of our chosen one had worked. I walked inside the shelter, greeted by the officers who I had come accustomed to seeing me everyday. “It’s adoption day!” I proclaimed with glee.
            I felt like it was the beginning of a turn for the better. This adoption seemed to be falling into place without contest. There was no one else clamoring for the door, and that meant no one to compete against me in a lottery drawing. It was the quiet, first part of the shelter day, and I alone wanted to adopt the little Schnauzer. I felt elated.
            The officer at the front desk asked me to wait a couple of moments as she got the paperwork together, and she suggested I take the walk to the back of the shelter where my little doggie awaited. I happily complied. As I waited back there, a quiet, well-dressed, young businessman walked up and initiated a chat with me.
            “Are you planning on adopting this dog?” he asked.
            “Yes. We’ve been excitedly waiting for this day,” I answered. “My son is particularly attached to him. He is going to be so happy to have a dog. He’s been wanting one for some time now.”
            The man looked at me curiously, “You have a son?”
            “Yes, and a daughter too. We’ve really been wanting a dog. This one seems perfect for us,” I answered.
            “Well. I won’t compete against you,” he looked at the Mini-Schnauzer and then back at me. “My wife will be disappointed, but she keeps saying she wants a Pug, so I won’t compete. You’ve got a boy.”


No comments: