This story does not start, nor will it end, with the familiar saccharine sentiment about the dog I rescued having actually rescued me. One year into this whole dog ownership thing and I am still about 25% sure that my partner and I shouldn’t have done it. What would our lives be like if we hadn’t adopted a dog, or perhaps just hadn’t adopted this dog?
Don’t get me wrong, I am not some sort of monster who doesn’t like dogs. Although, I am a recovering Cat Person ( I still do really like cats! I just had one that was a lunatic and menace), so my warming to dogs is not life-long. It could have stemmed from a scarring incident I once had with my cousin’s snooty Cocker Spaniel, or it could be that my family didn’t get a dog until I was nearly seventeen (not including the puppy my stepfather brought home as a surprise, which did not last long unfortunately but fair enough to my mother who was home with me, plus two kids under six).
I was aware of how much work a puppy would be, and there has been a significant rise in the PR, so to speak, around supporting rescue dogs. So when my partner and I started seriously entertaining the idea of owning a pet, seeing as she was brutally allergic to my cat, who was then forced to live with my parents and eventually re-homed (see: menace), the idea of rescuing a dog felt like the right choice. And it was. And it is, and truth be told I’d do it again.
I look back at our decision making and I almost laugh. Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent babies. Neither of you have ever rescued a dog before, and no amount of “research” could prepare you for the four-legged mess that you were about to invite to live inside of your home.
Our dog, Ru, named after the forever fabulous RuPaul because she always has a fiercely tucked tail, was not our first choice. She was on our list because, if I may say so myself, she is vey beautiful, but she was not number one. In fact, I was head over heels for a sweet, blind shepherd mix named Romeo, but he needed to go to a home with another dog and experienced owners. I mean, fair. But there was Ru, formerly Luanne.
A skinny hound-mix, she has brindle fur and floppy ears and sweet, albeit nervous, disposition. The first time we met her, she wouldn’t come near us. It took nearly an hour and many crunchy treats for even a little attention to be paid. But, we wanted to show her love and patience and help her bloom into the strong, independent woman we know she could be!
Simultaneously, my partner was recovering from a pretty serious concussion sustained during a mountain biking accident in Sedona merely eight weeks prior. I am here to tell you that getting a very nervous rescue dog while your partner is recovering from a brain injury and you are, essentially, a caretaker is not a great idea. The peak of not a great idea-ness was having an almost-yelling volume fight, in the middle of the sidewalk at a very busy intersection in the west end of Toronto in regards to whether or not we can handle having a dog right now.
This was maybe six weeks into the adoption of Ru.
I would be lying to you if we hadn't discussed giving her back. I even had an epic meltdown about such conversation at a cottage weekend early on, clutching this scrawny creature, feeling the shame of a decision we hadn’t even made flow through me. The first 5 months of owning Ru were, quite frankly, pretty dark. She had three different parasites, and taking her out for a 3am shit was not unusual. She was allergic to chicken (found out just how badly the hard way). She was a nervous doggamn wreck, which made us into nervous goddamn wrecks. Truly, it seemed, Ru was afraid of everything. The list includes:
- Men, everything about them
- Children between the ages of newborn to, let’s say, thirteen
- Skateboards/bikes/strollers/buggies/roller blades
- Runners
- People with uneven gaits or walking apparatuses
- Everything on the street. All of it.
- The vacuum (normal)
- Guitars (kind of normal)
The idea of going for a casual evening stroll with our new dog was replaced with the reality of going for a very stressful and tears-inducing “walk” around the block. So, we got trainers. Three of them, one of whom was recommended by our vet and is the lead trainer at the local Humane Society. We put her on puppy Prozac, and got special additional pills for when we had more than one or two guests over to keep her, essentially, midly sedated. Her anxiety was, and sometimes still is, on a level.
However, once we explored all of our options and heard what lots of professionals had to say, we started to feel less overwhelmed. We started to let go of the expectations that we had and attempted to stop projecting rational concepts on to an extremely irrational being.
Then slowly, very very slowly, but surely, it stopped feeling so dire. We figured out a schedule, and started understanding what was normal for Ru. She started doing cute stuff, and, finally about eight months in, she actually started to cuddle with us. We felt like CHOSEN ONES. We still remark every time she chooses to sit near us or cuddles, taking photos with our phones, asking the other to get us water or a snack because obviously the dog cannot be disturbed at this time.
The difficulty ratio went from (bad:good) 80:20, to 70:30, to 50:50, and then started consistently swinging the other direction. At the time of writing this, I would say that our ratio is about 85% good to 15% bad. I knew we would get there, I just didn’t think it would be…so intense.
All things considered, Ru is actually a really good dog.
She is house trained, not destructive, and her separation issues have waned significantly over time. The girl is smart, too. Like, can open doors smart. She’s a fast learner, loves to lounge, and makes the cutest little noises when she’s sleeping or stretching. I can be so mad at her for being a brat one minute, and head over heels with her dumb little face the next. Ru is an enigma.
I am still not entirely sure that she carries any respect for me whatsoever (instead, I think she thinks I’m her littermate while my partner is her alpha). She is stubborn, and skittish, and saucy. If I had to do it all over again, knowing what I know now, sometimes I think we would have chosen differently.
But, we have Ru now. And she has us. We’ll never know her origin story, or what she looked like as a puppy, or what on Earth gave her so many damn parasites. So, we make stuff up for her sometimes. At the end of the day, she’s just a girl from Podunk, Texas who likes to eat a good snack, sit by the fireplace, and keep her parents on their toes.
Getting to know her, and learning how to love her was not easy. It was riddled with anxiety, trust issues, and a total lack of control. Our love for her was, indeed, a process. I would imagine, if she could talk (and I like to think she has a nice Southern accent), she would say the same about us. After all, her side of the story essentially involves several kidnappings, emigration, a lot of poking and prodding, and some very unpleasant stomach issues. Until, finally, one afternoon in April, she was home.
