Jack is in his forever home

We finally found a forever family for Jack yesterday...or, rather, they found him. He was with us only two weeks, but it was kind of a whirlwind two weeks, because this was my first "normal" adoption. Meaning, not only did I have Jack for only a week before putting him up for adoption -- he had no medical or other issues that would have precluded that -- but he was the youngest of the three dogs I've had. The younger, the better in terms of the number of families interested in adopting. Conversely, the older the dog, the fewer applications you get.

With Buddy, who was not particularly old at age five but who had a worrisome medical history and ongoing allergy issues, the first two applicants passed on him because of his problems. After having Buddy up for adoption for nearly two months, I finally found him a home by taking him to a pet expo, where a wonderful couple fell in love with him. With Zoe, age six with behavioral problems, I got one application in six weeks -- and she adopted him.

With Jack, we got applications right away. The first lady was looking for a mellow dog. I said no outright. The second app was from a couple in their 20s, newly married and living in a new condo in Pasadena. They came to meet Jack and, although they were extremely nice, they were pretty freaked out by his energy level. (Jack didn't help his cause by acting like a complete lunatic when they arrived.)

The third applicants were a mom, dad and teenage son from Ventura who had never had a dog before. They were even more freaked out than the newlyweds when Jack charged out of the house and began jumping on them.

Applicant No. 4 was a lawyer who lived in downtown L.A. She was great with him, but she lived in a condo, and the closest grass was a long block away. Also, she was a slender woman and he is a puller. We mutually decided it wasn't a match.

Jack's final application arrived on Friday. The family consists of a dad, an at-home mom and a teenage son that live two miles from the ocean in Huntington Beach. Their golden retriever, whom they'd adopted at age four and who had lived to age 16, had died last summer, and they missed having a dog. They had been looking for a younger dog, but their family rep gently steered them toward Jack, and we set up a meeting for Sunday.

We decided this time to put Jack on a leash to meet them. So instead of jumping uncontrollably, he greeted them by straining uncontrollably against the leash and gasping for breath. Marginally better than the leashless greeting, but not fabulous.

As I was holding Jack down on the living room floor, trying to get him to stop writhing and gnawing on my hand, I assured them repeatedly that he was only like this when he first met people, and that for most part, he was a pretty calm dog. And then, miraculously, he calmed down.

I wanted to make sure they knew what they were getting. I asked, "Have you seen 'Marley and Me'?" They had. That made it easy. "He's got some Marley attributes," I told them. I said that male Labs were often more exuberant and goofier and quirkier and probably a bit more work, but those qualities also made them interesting and more fun. I think they're also more dependent and affectionate than females, in general.

I suggested they take him for a walk and see how they got along. This was a quiet family, and I thought he might be too much for them. Twenty minutes later, they came back and said they wanted him. That told me they "got" him. Yes, he is kind of out of control in certain situations. He steals socks and he doesn't like his crate and he's mouthy and he pulls on his leash sometimes. But he's also incredibly good-natured, beautiful, playful and friendly, and he does care about being a good dog. Even if he never gets another ounce of obedience training, he'll still be a great dog. He'll never hurt another person or another animal, he'll be a faithful and loyal companion, and he'll always be in a good mood.

The house was so quiet last night with him gone. With no Jack to play with, my dogs snoozed all night. I was able to leave things out without worrying that Jack might steal them, eat without having Jack beg and go into my closet without Jack rummaging through the laundry basket. I watched TV all night without Jack climbing up beside me and shoving his ball at me, urging me to toss it a few feet. I went from room to room without being followed.

We miss him.

Jack

Our new foster dog's name is Jack Daniels, but we are not going to call him that. To us, he is just Jack. Why would anyone name their dog after a brand of whiskey? Could that provide a clue as to why his owners are divorcing, losing their home and giving him over to rescue?

We got Jack about 24 hours after Zoe found her new home. It would have been OK to take a break, but no other foster was available at the moment, which meant that Jack would have gone into boarding until one came available. I hate to think of any dog in a boarding kennel, so I asked if I could take him.

Jack is a yellow Lab who turns 4 on Jan. 15. As with all fosters, Jack took some time to settle in. He got very worked up and was panting very hard until we decided to put him in his crate to let him settled down. After 10 minutes we checked on him, and he was dead to the world.

His owners assured us that Jack liked his crate, and he did go in willingly the first time. But when he woke up at 3 a.m. Sunday and needed to go out, he refused to go back into his crate. I'm sure an outside observer would have been entertained by the methods of persuasion I employed between 3 and 4:30 a.m. to try to get him back in, but it wasn't very fun at the time. :-(

I tried bringing him into our room, but after half an hour of trying to stop him from rummaging through everything, I went back to trying to shove him into the crate. He would flop on the floor outside the crate and not budge. I threw treats in there, and he would reach in with his paw while leaving the bottom half of his body outside the crate. OK, I can laugh about it now.

Anyway, about mid-afternoon on Sunday, after a lot of playing and walking, he finally settled down and took a snorey nap. Last night he was following us around the house and being generally adorable.

He's another one who never had much training, having spent most of his time outside, but he is housebroken and seemingly more socialized. The other dogs like him. He seems like a typical male yellow Lab: playful, goofy and active. About a 6 on the 10-point Marley scale, with 1 being easy-peasy and 10 being incorrigible.

I can put him up for adoption after having him a week, and I'm sure he will get a ton of apps because he's relatively young and super-cute. I will try not to get too attached to him...yeah, right.

A new year -- and a new home for Zoe

Late on New Year's Eve, I received a note from one of our family reps that one of his potential adopters had expressed interest in Zoe. In reviewing her application, I saw that she was the same applicant whom I had rejected six weeks earlier, when I read that she was looking for an older, mellow Lab.

Six weeks ago, Zoe was anything but a mellow Lab. She was hyper and overactive, with a penchant for ripping things to shreds and an unsettling barking habit. But since that time, she had changed -- so much so that I had to rewrite her biography on the rescue Web site.

When you think about her background -- stuck in solitary confinement in her backyard for her entire six years, with little human contact, forced to entertain herself day after day, sleep alone in the dark night after night -- is it any wonder that she was filled with anxiety, and unsure of how to behave, when suddenly being around strange humans and dogs 24/7, and living in a house?

Her owners gave up on her early. If they had given her the attention and training and companionship that every dog needs and deserves, they would have seen her grow into the affectionate, obedient and, believe it or not, docile dog she became in only a few weeks.

So on New Year's Day I phoned Zoe's potential owner, a fiftysomething Inglewood woman and UCLA grad who was early-retired from jobs with the city of L.A. and the Metropolitan Water District. She had adopted a middle-aged black female Lab from us in 1998, and that dog, Pepper, had lived 10 more years. I explained Zoe's history in detail, including the barking issues that had been handled with a water spray bottle, and she was undeterred.

I packed Zoe's things -- including the spray bottle -- and took her to her very nice home on a quiet street with a park nearby, and they hit it off. (Turns out Zoe bears an uncanny resemblance to Pepper.) When I left, Zoe was standing on her porch with her new owner, who later emailed me to say that Zoe was sleeping on her floor. (Maybe Zoe appreciated the peace and quiet of her dachshund-free new home.)

I miss her, of course, but mainly I'm happy for her -- happy that she will at last have her very own human.