Another Outing With Bailey~A Shelter Dog

 

I fetched Bailey from RBARI this morning after seeing her briefly yesterday when I went to walk other dogs: Old Man Wolf, a 10 year old collie/husky mix with an enormous head and bigger heart. Played with Jack Russell/Schnauzer “Toby,” who is all about fun-fun-fun!!! and can manage a good sit before you even ask for it. Alfie, the gentle lab cross, dozed in her kennel but was happy to go for a walk, and Jenna, a 5 year-old Doberman seemed glad, if confused, to be roaming the grounds of a shelter when she used to be living in her former owner’s home before a baby arrived.

Bailey wiggled and whined when I entered her kennel, a behavior I have not seen before. She looked at me, LOOKED AT ME, making a connection where before she just kind of stared around at anything else except who was at the other end of her leash. Hmmm.

I drove her up to Ringwood Manor to walk the paved road where cars were few and far between. We strolled past dozens of families, men and women of all ages with dogs and laughing kids and everyone HUNGRY for this sunny day; cold be damned! I pointed out the courting Titmice and teasing crows wafting from branch to branch, the Turkey Vultures vaulting across the blue sky, a hunting Red-tailed Hawk. Bailey could not have cared less. Nor did she notice my frustration when she yanked at the end of the leash at the very second I tried to take a photo of a Wood Duck.  Oh well….

Back to the parking lot for a break, we hopped into the back of the Subaru Wagon to snack on desiccated liver treats and an apple. I stretched my legs out at the end of the wagon bed and the dog sat next to me. The sun stroked us as we watched the people and kids and dogs stroll by. After awhile, Bailey did something else she has not done before. She lifted her right front paw and scratched at my legs. Surprised, I looked at her but said nothing. She glanced at me, sort of sideways, and then pawed again, as if testing the waters.  Then, with no further ado, she left that paw on my leg, carefully placed the other one next to it, heaved a gentle sigh, and laid down in my lap, as if to say: I have been wanting to do this for a long, long time.

Spot Before My Eyes

The shelter where I have been volunteering most weekends held a special training yesterday on how to handle one-year old “Spot,” a recently surrendered Borzoi or Russian Wolfhound, relative to Greyhounds and looking every bit like a curly-haired cousin.  Spot was owned by someone who could no longer take care of him and arrived at the shelter having no clue how to walk on a leash or even where his skyscraper body is at all times.

We are being show how to turn him. he leaves most of his body behind unless you use your left right leg to nudge the back end to follow the front.

This morning, I went to pick up Bailey for our Sunday outing but learned she was on an “overnight” at the home of one of the staff so I had to wait for her to return. Well, I thought, I will go practice what I learned yesterday and take Spot out for a walk.

I entered his kennel, hooked him up and held the loop of his martingale collar to stop him from lunging when I opened the door. When I did this yesterday, he leaped up on tiptoes and flailed at my face from 12 feet in the air. Fortunately, instincts from years of working with horses many years ago kicked in. I became calm and firm and got him under control.

It was a struggle to get through doorways where we are asked to have the dogs stop before going through to teach them that we, as the leaders, go first. Spot was jumpy but this time, I was ready with my hand firmly on the loop of his martingale. We went through one of the doors but with all those splayed legs, I accidentally stepped on a toe (even the trainer said she had done this several times). He yelped and twisted, poor guy, but when I opened the door, all was forgotten. As we walked out into the sun, I could feel him relax about one degree.

His sight hound instincts kicked in immediately, making him swivel his head and point his needle nose at whatever was moving, people and other dogs. Two staff were quietly walking dogs down the road toward us so I guided Spot away. His body curved away from my left leg. I stepped to the right to get his attention but unfortunately, the front end came along while the back end stayed where it was, and I stepped on a back foot this time. Fortunately, this got his attention long enough to surprise him with dried liver treats and we succeeded in walking somewhat normally for two cycles around the parking lot before I decided to call it quits while we were ahead and go back in.

While I returned Spot to his kennel, the groomer was returning a freshly bathed Golden Retriever to its bed. She was a small woman wearing a green apron and had a cheery accent that revealed her English heritage. She put her hands on her hips and said, “Let’s see; who’s next? He needs a bath (pointing to Spot). I’ll do him next. We stood him in the tub last week, now we’ll wash him.”

And just like that, she slithered into Spot’s kennel, clipped the leash onto his collar, opened the door and marched him to the bathing room which is the same room housing the washer, dryer and mountains of laundry so there is just room enough for one person and one dog. With another more experienced volunteer, she lifted the surprised wolfhound into the raised tub and clipped his collar onto the short chain on the wall. There Spot stood, his back curled into a shallow “C” as the groomer asked him, “Why the sad face?” But he stood and did not struggle.

Unfortunately, the door had to be closed so I could not take pictures. But when I returned from my outing with Bailey later in the day, Spot was back in his kennel and lounging on his hammock, looking soft, fluffy, clean and CALM. I think he is starting to like the place. Good Spot. Good dog.

I am looking forward to walking with him again. Think I will wear my slippers.

A Dog Day: Walking Bailey~A Shelter Dog

 

This morning, I sprung Bailey, an 8-year old Shepherd/Husky mix, from her RBARI shelter home, put her into the station wagon and took her for a ride to the Ridgewood Duck Pond, where leashed dogs are permitted. We avoided the "dog park," a fenced-in area where dogs are allowed to run free and socialize with each other. In my book, when you put a bunch of animals together like that is a vet bill waiting to happen.

 

Bailey is not my dog. She belongs to the shelter.  But as a volunteer, I am encouraged to take her out of her daily routine to remind us both there is a bigger world out there. It blows the cobwebs out of our minds and hearts, and when you add a little sunshine, it is as golden as she is.

I have walked Bailey every weekend at the shelter since her family had to give her up a couple of months ago. She is timid, but a good girl and got an A+++ on her first real outing. Her inner Husky splashed happily through slurpy, slushy puddles and the hidden scents in snow kept her trotting by my side, rarely spooking even while runners and walkers and bike riders zoomed around us. She did not even glance at the woman yelling in French into her cellphone and we quietly stepped aside when a roller blader careened past. She took exception; however, to a hound who walked toward us while staring directly at her. In doggie body language, this is like "flipping the bird," so I pulled Bailey off the paved path as the hound's owner dragged the dog past as it snarled and growled at us.

When we returned to the car, I toweled the mud off her paws and brushed her head to toe as she leaned her warm body against mine. Then, I popped her back onto the soft comforter in the back of the wagon, left the hatch open and sat down next to her and stroked her thick fur. We sat in the sun awhile and just watched the world go by. As I greeted people who strolled past and told them about RBARI, Bailey stretched out in the warm sun, tucked her head over her paws and dozed.

Admittedly, this is not a great photo of Bailey. This is early in our walk and she was still anxious. By the time she was relaxed enough to look her beautiful golden self, I was relaxed too and forgot all about the camera.

But the best thing is: My car smells like wet dog.

Go Ahead...Bask!

The winter of 1994 was similar to this one. Endless days of snow and ice and below zero temperatures. By mid-March we had totaled 18 snow and ice storms and were physically and spiritually exhausted. But then, one night on TV,  Howard Coselle shared photographs of the flowers that would soon be among us in person. Pink and red and blue. GREEN. He invited viewers to "Go ahead...bask!"
I had not realized how much I was missing COLOR and wept. And then smiled.

42 more days.