My favorite part of every day is the moment I walk into the dog kennel section in the back of Angels on Earth Animal Rescue. Most of the dogs go absolutely bonkers, barking, yelping, and howling their excitement, and what’s not to love about that kind of royal treatment? Some jump and wag their tails while others stand quietly waiting for my hello and a treat. More often than not, I open the kennels and let them run and play in the enclosed outdoor dog park attached to the shelter, leaving just the few who can’t yet play nice or could be hurt by rambunctious bigger dogs. Those dogs know their time is coming—their playtime, that is. They wait patiently until their shelter buddies release their pent-up energy, and then there’s practically a celebration.
My job comes with great rewards, but it’s not easy, and it hurts my heart to see the dogs waiting for their forever homes. Many never find them and spend the rest of their lives in our no-kill shelter. Some are adopted out then returned for reasons that never make sense to me. He pulls when we try to walk him. He won’t stop jumping. He’s tearing up the yard. These are things simple training can fix—not just for the dog, but for the owners too. Dogs are people pleasers by nature, and with the proper guidance and structure, that’s exactly what they do. It breaks my heart when people don’t use the tools available and necessary to provide a happy home for the dogs.
Which is why I decided to invest in a training program for the shelter and become certified in several different training techniques. My late husband Sam made sure my daughter Hayden and I were well taken care of financially, far better than I could have imagined, but I didn’t want or need all that money, so I put it to good use. Now these dogs are taught behaviors that increase their chances of adoption, and they’ve got a large place to play with unlimited healthy treats, not to mention comfy dog beds and toys to play with in their kennels. Best money ever spent in my book.
As I was playing with the dogs, Kerry Pitman, a shelter volunteer and friend, came outside. “Missy, we’ve got a woman who would like to adopt a pit bull. Her name’s—” She paused. “I already forgot, but it’s on her application. Do you have a few minutes to talk to her?”
“Sure. Has she picked out a dog already?”
“Nope.”
“Is she trying to take one home today?”
She nodded. “Seems to think she doesn’t need a home inspection because a happy dog that’s loved is what’s most important.”
Yes, a happy and loved dog is important, but part of that love comes from an environment where a dog can thrive. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Better you than me,” she said, and crouched down to play with a chocolate lab the size of a polar bear but a lot friendlier.
Since we are a mostly privately funded shelter and not associated with the city or county, we don’t allow adoptions without a home inspection. Some people get offended by that, but it’s our way of ensuring our dogs—and cats—are adopted into safe environments. After all, that’s the least they deserve, especially the pitties. They’ve got such a bad reputation, and they’re so often abused through poor owners, breeders, and dog fighting, that they deserve forever love.
I stepped into the lobby and introduced myself. “I’m Missy Kingston, the shelter manager.”
“Yeah, hi. I’m looking to adopt a dog for my kid.”
When it comes to our dogs, my intuition is never wrong. It’s not as good with humans, but at that moment red flags were waving all around her. “Boy or girl?”
She shrugged. “Don’t matter to me none. Just want a pit bull ’cause I hear they’re good at protecting and all.”
“I’m sorry, I meant is your child a boy or girl?”
“What’s that got to do with the dog?”
“Dogs respond differently to men and women, and that includes children. How old is your child? We want to make sure you adopt a dog that will fit into your home environment.”
“They’re two and four, but the dog won’t be in the house much.”
I mentally tossed another flag in the air. “Oh, you have two children. Okay, our process is unique to the shelters in the area and is more like the private rescue groups. We require a home visit before we can approve an adoption.”
“You mean I got to let the dog see my house first so it can decide if it likes it or something?”
“No, ma’am. Someone from the shelter will visit the home and determine if it’s a good fit for one of our dogs. Let me get the schedule, and we can set up a time for me to come by.”
As I rotated on my heels, she said, “Why can’t I just pick a dog and take it? I filled out the thing, and I got references. Can’t you just call them?”
“We have a process, ma’am. We do contact your references and also any vets you’ve used in the past, and we have a service that runs background checks on potential adopters, but the first step after the application is the home inspection. If that meets our requirements, we move onto the next step.”
“I don’t think I like that. I can afford to feed it, so that should be good enough to make it happy.”
I flipped through her three-page application. “You don’t have a fenced yard?”
“No.”
“Will you exercise the dog regularly?”
“You mean with walks and stuff?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I got a clothing line. I’ll just attach it to that, and it can run back and forth. That’s what my neighbors do.”
“Tethering a dog by any means is against the law.” I gripped her application tighter in my hand. “I’d be happy to schedule a home inspection.” I stopped myself from adding, but it probably won’t do any good.
She shook her head. “I don’t need it that bad.” She walked out the door, letting it slam shut behind her.
Kerry stepped out from the shelter area and waved at the woman’s back. “There goes another satisfied customer.”
* * *
Kerry and I cleaned up the training area after letting the puppies exhaust themselves playing for a while. She stuck the orange cones on top of each other. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Be nice to people when they say stupid stuff.”
I laughed. “Trust me, I bite my tongue all the time.”
“If that woman would have mentioned the clothesline to me, I’d have sent her packing with a good kick in the butt.”
Kerry is akin to a tall glass of sweet iced tea: she doesn’t have a mean bone in her, but like me, she takes the health and welfare of our dogs seriously. “And I’d pay to watch that miracle happen,” I said.
She giggled. “Fine, I probably wouldn’t do it, but I’d want to.”
“We get people like that all the time. I just pray they don’t go to another shelter and adopt.”
“If you don’t have the space for a dog, why would you get one in the first place?”
“People live in apartments with dogs. It’s not about the size of the space as much as it is about the dog’s quality of life. Lots of exercise, walks, playtime, love, food, bonding, that’s what matters. I’m against tethering a dog, whether it’s against the law or not, so I can’t approve an adoption where someone tells me that’s their intent, but an apartment doesn’t get an automatic no.”
“I know. I didn’t mean—”
I wouldn’t let her finish. “No explanation needed. You’re very protective of the pups, and I appreciate it.”
We walked the dogs back to their kennels.
“Even if she hadn’t said anything, I don’t think I would have approved her application.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Something seemed off about her, but I don’t know what exactly.”
* * *
Two months ago, one of our newer owner surrenders, a sweet pit bull used only to breed, gave birth to five puppies. Two didn’t make it, so we’ve been extra careful with the three survivors. They’ll go up for adoption in the next few weeks, and they’ll go fast. People always want puppies, even if they’re pit bull mixes.
The puppies were full of energy. If I had even a fifth of that zest for life, I’d have my yearly to-do list done by January 2. Unfortunately, my energy wasn’t even at exhausted-puppy levels, but thankfully, I did okay. I finished up some paperwork at the shelter, said goodbye to my dog loves, and tossed—figuratively, not literally—the puppies into my car to take them over to the dog park. They’d spent two months staying with Kerry, and it was my turn to keep them until someone adopted them. My dogs loved the pups, and it was a joy having my dogs exhausted too.
I let them run around the park, laughing out loud as they bounced and hopped around. I videotaped them wrestling and tripping over each other, their little growls and barks music to my ears.
We stayed in the small dog section of the park, an area fenced off for the little dogs to play safely and not be trampled by the bigger dogs. But once the puppies realized the bigger dogs were on the other side of the fence, they ran laps up and down the fence line, barking and whining. I stood at the fence and watched the show.
A tall blond man with a well-maintained five-o’clock shadow walked up to the other side of the fence. “You’ve sure got a handful.” He crouched down and stuck his hand through the chain-link metal and was immediately showered with puppy kisses.
“They’re not actually mine. I manage the shelter where they were born. I guess you could call me their human grandmother.” Little Harry, as we’d taken to calling him because of the long hairs around his snout, jumped on my leg. I picked him up and he wiggled around like a Mexican bean in full bouncing mode, showering my face with puppy kisses. I didn’t mind. His puppy breath was sunshine on a rainy day. When I set him back down, he took off after his brother and sister.
A gray husky walked over to the man, setting the puppies on a race back toward us. They barked and yelped, and Bubba peed on his sister, Princess.
“Bubba! Going potty on your sister is icky.” I smiled at the man. “I know all he heard was ‘Bubba’ and ‘blah, blah, blah,’ but we haven’t started training yet.”
“You train the shelter dogs?”
“Most of them. It helps with our adoption rates, and I enjoy it.”
His husky ran behind him, grabbed a stick, and ran around the park with it. The man laughed. “Boomer could use some training. Then again, so could his human.”
“Dog training is about twenty-five percent dog-focused and seventy-five percent human training.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“You should check out our program. We’re on the internet. It’s Angels on Earth Animal Rescue.”
“I’ve been thinking of getting Boomer a buddy. Maybe I’ll come by. Do you have a card?”
His darkening eyes made me blush. “I do, but it’s in my car. If you’re leaving soon, I can grab one.”
“Whenever you’re ready. Boomer’s been here for an hour already. We came by here earlier, then walked around the pathway, and came back to run the last bit of energy off freely.” He sighed. “Huskies have a lot of energy.”
“They sure do!”
We walked back to my car. I carried Bubba and Princess, and the man graciously carried Little Harry, who wiggled, licked, nibbled, and sneezed all over his new best friend.
“You’re going to need a shower now,” I said. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s no problem. This little guy’s definitely worth it.” He read my card as I received my third arm bath of the day from Princess. “Missy Kingston. I’m Kevin Poplar.” He smiled. “I’ll come by in the morning if you’re free?”
“We open at ten.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”