Sheba is a rescue dog. We got her from the Echo Glen Children's Center. The kids give rescue dogs basic canine good citizenship training. Then, the dogs graduate out of the program and are adopted. The kids have to say goodbye to their dog buddy. That is hard for all involved.
I thought Sheba would be good with kids and other dogs based on this training environment. My mistake. Sheba is our second rescue dog. I knew they can be quirky due to their prior life experiences. I didn't realize how quirky. Sheba has PTSD. That is okay. We share that diagnosis. But, it has caused problems with her and, from her perspective, the great unknown.
We know precious little about her previous life. All we know is that she was rescued from a home in Idaho with too many animals. The rest we can only extrapolate based on her behavior. She does not like men in hats or people carrying things. "Hi, good to see you. Please take off your hat before we introduce you to our dog" or "I see you are holding something. Could you put that down while you greet the dog?"
She sees other dogs as a threat either to us or her terrain. Unfortunately, she thinks children are other dogs. They are small, make excited high pitched sounds, and move quickly. This has never happened to us before. We have always enjoyed certainty that our dogs are safe with children and everyone else.
I did not know how one could parse out a bite with so much detail. After all, a bite is a bite. Right? Maybe not.
"Did she hurt you?" I ask.
"No, she only put her mouth softly on my hand to let me know she was in charge."
Oh, god, that is so scary. I talked to the trainer of "reactive dogs" which I didn't even know was a thing. She said, "At least, she showed bite inhibition." WHAT? Bite inhibition! I think, "How close are we to danger?" I'm afraid if she does anything bad we will loose her. As a result, we watch her very carefully.
Sheba and I literally met on line. After my old, exceptionally well trained, dog died, I was impatient to get another dog due to the incredible loneliness. I prowled the Internet pet finder sites. I figure I looked at over 500 dogs. I had my heart set on a rescue border collie who was reclaimed by her owner after making promises to the rescue group to treat her better. I saw Sheba on line. She was beautiful...a long haired, brindle dog at 67 pounds of mixed heritage including Australian Shepard. Her eyes looked keen and alert. I looked into that face and something resonated. Who knew it was a kindred spirit, PTSD, abuse survivor thing?
We contacted the children's center. She was available and would graduate soon. The process was for her to come for a weekend to see if we were all a match. We knew that she had spent a weekend with another family who had returned her saying they lived on a busy road, and she didn't come when they called. Why would she? She didn't know them.
She came for a trial weekend. She was a larger dog than we wanted, but we have always had big dogs. So, it seemed like it was just in the cards. (She's a healthy 90 pounder now.) I laid on the rug with her, and we cuddled. I was smitten. This was my first and probably last successful on-line dating experience.
We had to take her back that Sunday so she could finish her training and graduate with her trainer. Taking her back was hard. My partner said she didn't want her for another weekend until we could keep her for good. So, we waited for graduation.
At the graduation, we met her trainer. He was a 15 year old kid named Ethan. He proudly told us he'd been sober for two years. How does a 13 year old have to enter sobriety? I shudder to think. But, what am I saying? I was in a children's center when I was 14.
Ethan said Sheba had saved him, and he loved her. He was moving on to a community recovery center on the other side of the state. We were glad and hoped he wouldn't miss her so much if he wasn't at the same center. It was a tearful goodbye. It was a sadness out of our control. We promised him we would take good care of her...always.
As I write this, she's laying next to me on the couch. It's 10:30 in the evening. About 30 minutes ago, she walked over to the couch and told me with her eyes and body language that she wanted to cuddle on the couch. Who can resist an offer like that? Not me.
We have a rule. Or I should say, I have a rule that she can only be on the couch if she's with me. Oddly for the most part, she follows that rule. I am probably just fooling myself. But, I seldom catch her on the couch.
One of the most difficult parts of being in relationship with a dog is knowing I will most likely out live her. Because she was rescued at three years old or so, my time with her will be shortened by at least that much. I deal with that knowledge by being present with her. She is here. I know I am very lucky to enjoy her exceptional love tonight while she is laying next to me. I love you, Sheba. Thank you for filling my heart with love right now in this moment. I will always cherish it even after you are long gone, and I am searching for dog love again.
Joceile
5.25.16
