It’s a Dog’s World

It’s a Dog’s World

Yesterday Kim told me she is ready to get a new dog and she wants to find a senior dog to adopt. Her reasoning is that she will never replace Cecil in her heart, but she wants to improve the life of a aged dog in its declining years. She seems aware and prepared to accept that she will have some heartache over the possibility of another pet dying, but she says she is OK with that. She has found a rescue shelter nearby that only accepts aged pups. She saw a few candidates online and so, today, she and I went out to hunt for a worthy recipient of her affections. The place out in ranch country is called Frosted Faces in honor of the graying of their dog population. The name also speaks to the shock and trauma that must be felt by animals that are too old to boldly fend for themselves and yet are not ready to lay down and die. The faces scream for a caring soul to help them in their decline.

We arrived a half hour after opening and struggled to find a parking spot in a rather large parking area. Things were busy at Frosted Faces. The place is run by a young couple who have dedicated themselves to this cause and have established a network of volunteers, foster parents and donors. Their unique and impressive program calls for all dogs to get the medical treatment they need and for all adoptions to include a lifetime guaranty of medical care for any pre-existing condition when someone chooses a new pet to rescue. Frosted Faces has made it as easy for anyone to accept a pet into adoption as they possibly can. They know their pets are not necessarily the cutest or the most attractive all-around pets available to owners, so they make sure to try to neutralize whatever negatives they can and thereby allow anyone with a warm place in their heart for a needy pet to take on the task of giving them a home. They profile each pet with a great deal of specificity and care, being sure to lay out any and all shortcomings. They explain if a dog is incontinent or particularly ill (one little fellow named Jasper had terminal kidney failure). The full disclosure approach is admirable and very smart. It forces people to think through their decision to adopt and is careful not to gild any lilies.

When we arrived at this busy shelter, it was about 100 degrees up in the high desert of Ramona. While there were people scattered both inside and outside, most of the dogs were out under various shadesails in the several penned yards they had. Everything was neat as a pin with multiple chew toys and dog beds laying around to comfort the inhabitants. They had kiddie pools with cool water here and there for the pups, and the dogs (we were in the small dog enclosure) were wandering freely and in a friendly manner amongst the humans there to help or meet them. A volunteer “salesperson” accompanied us to introduce us to some of the dogs on offer. She immediately realized that Kim was the buyer and I was merely there for moral support. Kim asked about a few she had seen on line and that got the ball rolling.

The first debutante was named Cheyanne and she was twelve-year-old stray that had diabetes and had been in bad, emaciated shape when she arrived. She has improved since then and seems to be as sweet a dog as you could imagine. If it is possible to attribute such things to a dog, she seemed very unassuming and friendly in a hyper-docile way. She seemed almost casual as though she didn’t want to raise any expectations. Kim immediately took to her and she very much looked as though she needed a new friend and caregiver.

We then went outside and got introduced to the rest of the small-dog crowd while Cheyanne sat in a cool and shaded corner, not wanting to interfere with whatever we needed to do. It is quite a process to sit amongst a bunch of aging orphan pets and seeing what they are all about. There was one that stuck out that looked like a Chihuahua with a bit of Bull Terrier. She was walking a bit cockeyed and didn’t seem to want to stop or sit in a shady spot. The handler explained that she had dementia, something I didn’t realize afflicted dogs. I asked how one diagnoses dementia in a dog and was told that when they start walking into walls its a sure sign. This little mini-Spuds McKenzie looked like something George Booth might draw, sitting looking oddly at its crazy owner trying to determine who was crazier. She walked up to the wading pool and tried to take a drink, but the plastic wall was too high. Someone finally put her in the ankle-deep pool only to have her stand there and growl at other dogs who approached the pool, but showing no interest in either drinking or cooling off anything other than her feet. She then went through a wobbly process of getting out of the wading pool on her own only to walk off at a forty-five degree angle in the general direction of some shade, seemingly mumbling to herself. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and the goings-on in the corral.

One little grey terrier came right up to Kim and sat next to her on the settee. She seemed to understand that this was the most effective sales tool she had. We were then told that this was a package deal since she had a bonded “sister”, which was a little black Chihuahua. This routine was like a cute hitchhiker calling her ugly sister out from behind a bush once a car stopped to give her a ride. So little Pinky and Roxy sat next to Kim looking up at her imploringly. Roxy had a badly mangled left front leg that hung like a noodle from her shoulder. It didn’t seem to bother her walking or her general demeanor, but it took some getting used to look at.

Kim came away from the whole experience deciding that she wanted all three of the dogs, so she has put in an application. I’m not sure what it takes to qualify, but I’m thinking we will likely make it over the bar and have three new appreciative aging pals around the house pretty soon. It is, after all, just one big dog’s world, right?