Confessions of a First Time Foster

We went to pick up a dog named Angelique, but I refuse to call her what THAT WOMAN did. It turns out that a lot of my initial assumptions were just plain wrong. The “rescuer” had this dog for 6 months and kept her caged for all but half an hour a day! And after an initial shave, gave her not a lick of grooming for all that time. Now I know what real rescue is all about. The little girl that we picked up has to know that she has a brand new life, starting today. So since her name used to be pronounced in the French fashion, it sounds really different to call her Angel.

We arrived home pretty late yesterday evening . . . with this shockingly neglected, apricot-colored bichon:

We put Angel in our outdoor ex-pen and then Papa went and got Paris & Cognac and we put them in too. After much sniffing of butts, we all went inside. Here’s the Welcoming Committee:

Angel has just started in heat, which means that we can’t spay her for at least four weeks. Which means she’ll be with us at least that long. And that Cognac in particular is desperate to be Angel’s very best friend. (He was only neutered in January, so he has retained “certain behaviors.”) We pretty much put everybody to bed right away, but Cognac did make the opportunity to bring Angel a toy!

Today I’ve found out that Angel doesn’t know how to walk on a leash, play with toys, jump up onto a couch, or climb stairs. She’s actually not too bad on the leash, although she has a tendency to run in circles around me, like I was a pivot. [An added note from Papa: My belief is that Angel is not okay on the leash yet. I have the same experience when walking her, and I recognize that she is constantly trying her dead-level best to get away. But when you’re on a tether, not coming closer to the center but not futilely trying to get further away means that you move in a circle. It breaks my heart that she feels she has to, but I understand it.]

But the main point is, Angel’s never seen toys, or a couch, or a set of stairs before. The fact that she’s 2-1/2 is irrelevant. The woman who bought her from the Amish auction last November kept her in a crate in the garage for all but 30 minutes a day, when she got her exercise tied out in the back yard. Finding this out horrified me, to the point that I insisted on renaming the dog, but the life didn’t horrify Angel. It was ordinary. Heck, the 30 minutes of yard-time probably counted as a major feature upgrade. I have to keep in mind that an hour of lying quietly on the couch with me and two other dogs is highly stimulating for Angel, leaving her in need of several hours of crate-time. Oh — thank you, Lynn, for the tip about putting her in baby diapers, or we wouldn’t have considered giving her the option of couch time.

Another priority for me has been giving Angel regular (as in every 2-4 hours) trips outside, so that she at least has the opportunity to pee outside. She seems grateful for them, so maybe housebreaking her won’t be as hard as I fear. But again, exploring an urban yard is highly stimulating for Angel, and we really can’t stay out very long.