Buddy

Today I got an email from the adoptive family of my second foster dog, Buddy. I had him for three months before his family adopted him on Nov. 15. He came into foster care as a stray with a terrible skin infection that left him covered with blood-filled blisters. He was skinny and most of his fur was missing.

In all, SCLRR had him for six months. It took about four months for his skin to clear up; then he had to be neutered. After that it took him awhile to get adopted because of his medical history.

He had been up for adoption for about a month when I decided to take him to a pet expo where our rescue had a booth. A couple came upon him, fell in love with him, and filled out an application to adopt him. Rather than shy away from him because of his medical history, they embraced the chance to give a great dog a second chance at a good life.

Buddy was with another foster during the time he was really sick. She nursed him back to health and then gave him to me in August. When I got him, he was still skinny and frustrated at what his life had become; he had spent most of the past few months sick and crated. He growled at my husband at first and was pretty aloof with us and our dogs. But as the weeks went by and his fur continued to grow in and he continued to gain weight, he began coming out of his shell. I think all the hugs and pets helped too.

By the time he got adopted, he was the sweetest dog in the world -- easygoing, friendly and mellow. My adoptive family was perfect -- an older couple with grown children who loved dogs. I knew right away that they were right for Buddy.

Saying goodbye to Buddy was hard. I imagine saying goodbye will always be hard. I think about him every day. In fact, I had been thinking about writing his family a note when the pictures arrived this morning. To go from where he was to where he is now...that's why we do this! Here is is with his "sister," Maggie, in his new home, still adorable.

Zoe's barking

Another bad habit -- besides shredding things -- that Zoe developed as a result of being an outside dog was barking to get attention. Her owner told us she used to bark at rats at night, which probably resulted in her owners telling her to stop, or even bringing her inside to her garage crate, which is probably about the only interaction she ever had with her owners.

Most evenings, Zoe will bark inside the house -- to get the other dogs to play with her, or to get one of us to engage with her. I also think her barking is partly anxious; she is not used to being inside a closed space and having so much contact with humans or other dogs.

Regardless of the reason, it is an undesirable trait, particularly in an older dog. As her foster, I am not obligated to ensure that she is perfectly behaved before she is adopted. However, I am obligated to disclose to her adoptive family any behavior issues they will need to work on. Very few adoptive families will want to take a dog that has a barking issue. If she continues to bark too much in her new home, the risk is high that she will be returned, which is something no rescue wants.

So although I am not obligated to correct her barking problem, the reality is that her chances of being adopted are slim unless we get a handle on it. The good news is that she shows no signs of aggression. I tested her by backing her into a corner while she was barking and she just acted confused.

We have tried strong corrections -- grabbing her by the back of her neck and pushing her to the ground -- and ignoring her, and a loud clap when she barks to deter her. Nothing produced lasting results.

So I was really dreading this weekend, anticipating two days of trying to correct her barking, with no opportunity to work off her nervous energy because it was pouring rain.

Saturday started off with the usual periodic barking. The corrections were not working, as usual. I had tried one other technique -- spraying her with water -- earlier in the week, and she had barked right through it. I decided to try it again.

The first time I sprayed her, she kept barking, but I decided to persist. I got right up in her face and sprayed. Some got in her eye and it stopped her. I praised her for stopping.

This happened a couple of more times. Both times I had to spray her a lot -- until her whole head was practically dripping. But it only took a couple of seconds, and she stopped.

For the rest of the day, when she thought about barking -- there is usually some recognizable lead-up to it -- I looked at her and told her "No barking" and picked up the spray bottle. She stopped!

Normally, her time when we are home is very loud and destructive. We had a very good day yesterday. After awhile she started carrying a ball around, which kept her mouth busy and quiet. That's a perfect adaptive technique. She also was calmer overall and had several hours where she just rested quietly, which has pretty much NEVER happened before, except for bedtime.

I'm encouraged!

Zoe the Destroyer

Zoe is a shredder. She thinks every toy is meant to be torn into small pieces. Undoubtedly this is a habit she developed from years trying to entertain herself in the backyard. It is going to difficult, if not impossible, to change.

I Googled "indestructible dog toys" and learned that there are other owners whose dogs shred toys. Some are Labs, but there were a disproportionate number of pit bulls. Judging from the postings of these owners, there are no indestructible toys. Rather, the quality of a toy is judged by how long it lasts, and we are talking about days, not weeks or months. If it takes several days to destroy a toy, that toy is deemed successful, presumably because it kept the dog occupied (and not destroying other, more valuable things) for more than a few minutes.

Dog toys are already expensive, and when your dog rips them to pieces in a matter of days, toy costs can really add up. Nonetheless, yesterday afternoon I decided to take all three dogs to Petco (no, they were not good in the store, but whatever) to get some new toys. I got a Kong Wubba, which is a Kong chew toy wrapped in canvas with some octopus-like tentacles hanging from it, plus a canvas ring, a flat canvas person-shaped toy and some squeaky tennis balls.

Twelve hours later, the tennis balls are the only things still intact -- and that's only because I haven't taken them out of their sack yet. Yes, she rips up tennis balls, too.

At the end of most evenings, the living room is littered with stuffing and pieces of innocent plush toys. Here are last night's sweepings:



Here is what's left of the canvas ring:



And the Wubba, a couple of hours after we got home:



Breaking this habit of hers is going to take some time and persistence. In the meantime, she has to stay outside or crated when no one is home. If she were allowed free reign while we were gone, I am confident that we would come home to two shredded sofas.

Zoe

Zoe is my current foster. We have had her for two weeks. She is 6 years old and spent her entire life in her owner's backyard in Long Beach. The only exception was that when the weather was bad, she was allowed to sleep in a crate in the garage. She was turned over to rescue because she barked at rats in the backyard all night and jumped on the owner's 4-year-old son.

She came to us unhousebroken with no idea how to act in a home environment. During her backyard years, she developed a habit of violently shredding her toys to expend energy. Left to her own devices, she will shred anything, including clothes. She bit a hole into our couch. (Leather Magic repair kit -- check.) So we have to keep her in a crate when we're not here.

Despite a lifetime of solitary confinement, she is friendly with people and other dogs. Didi, my 7-year-old yellow Lab, and Matix, my 4-year-old mini wirehaired Dachshund, love her. However, she has developed the unfortunate habit of barking when she is excited, which is often. It is loud -- and not a desirable trait in any dog. To make her stop, Chris and I have had to issue a series of forceful "scruffs" -- grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and forcing her to lie down on her side until she relaxes. It's not fun, but it's necessary. Most adoptive families will not want a dog that barks too much.

We had a 70-minute walk tonight. The other two dogs came home totally spent, but Zoe still had plenty left. She spent about an hour trying to persuade Didi and Matix to play with her. It's about 7 p.m. and she's resting now. That's a huge improvement from our first week, when her nightly "hyper" periods would last four to five hours.

That's the thing I've learned after six months and three rescues: Dogs can change. In fact, they can change a lot. Zoe's barking, a habit developed over years of boredom and frustration, is diminishing. She is essentially housebroken. And she now HATES being outside. I tried to put her and Didi out to play tonight and she couldn't wait to get back in. What must her life been like before?

Kobe

I've been a volunteer for Southern California Labrador Retriever Rescue for about six months now. I got the idea shortly after my husband, Chris, and I had to put to sleep our beloved 11-year-old yellow Lab, Kobe, the day before Father's Day.

We got Kobe when he was eight weeks old, from a breeder in Perris, California. I actually put a reservation on him before he was born. The breeder, Marshland Labrador Retrievers, was well-known for its healthy and beautiful English-style Labs. Labs can have many health problems, like hip dysplasia and epilepsy, and I was so concerned about making sure we got a healthy dog that it didn't occur to me to worry about the dog's disposition.

Kobe's father was named Ote, which turned out to be an acronym for "Over The Edge." Had I been paying attention, this fact would have served as my first clue about what sort of puppy we were getting. Kobe was a hyper, incorrigible Tasmanian devil of a dog. It's normal for puppies to play-bite when they play with other dogs, but Kobe bit so hard that his dog pals would yelp in pain. He had boundless energy and was impossible to wear out. To punish us for not providing him with six hours of exercise per day, Kobe tore up carpet, stole food, chewed drywall and cabinetry, and pulled up rosebushes. He was so out of control that when he was six months old, we boarded him with a trainer for six weeks. He behaved for the trainer and then reverted right back to his old self after being home less than an hour.

Fortunately, Kobe, not unlike the basketball player we named him after, became better with age. I think all dogs do. Unfortunately, too many people give up on them during that obnoxious puppy stage. If we had given up on Kobe, we would have missed out on many years of wonderfulness, because Kobe ended up being the friendliest, funniest, quirkiest, kindest, most endearing Lab you could ask for.

So a week or two after we lost Kobe, we started thinking about how we could honor him by helping other Labs in need, particularly older ones, who are hard to adopt. That's when we got the idea to volunteer for Southern California Labrador Retriever Rescue.

I'm on my third foster dog now, which means I've already said goodbye to two dogs. There is a lot of loss associated with being a foster, and it hurts. But I try to stay focused on what's best for the dog, and that makes it easier. Plus, you know there's always another dog out there to save.

And it all started with Kobe.