Covid Puppies - Part II: The Search

We decided to adopt a rescue because we loved the idea of taking an unwanted dog and giving it a loving home and wonderful life. Not because they cost $500 as opposed to $10,000 from a breeder. Nothing to do with that at all. No. No. No. Nothing to do with that at all.

So, the first stop was looking at adoption sites online given the rescue centers were shuttered due to the pandemic. There were so many dogs. I am talking hundreds up for adoption. In the space of two months, I think I completed around 30 applications and we did not seem to be getting any closer to acquiring a dog.

The applications were probably more complicated than applications to adopt a human child. In some cases, we had to send video footage or photographs of our home and garden. In some cases, they would not consider us if we did not have a physical fence which we could not afford to install. In many cases we were asked what would happen to the dog if my husband and I divorced, one of us died, both of us died or all of us died.

As I contacted my attorney to make a provision in my will for my dog in the event of all four of us dying, I was beginning to feel disheartened that we would not find a dog. Added to that, the pressure of my husband saying “look, if we cannot get a dog for Christmas there is no point getting one at all”, you know, that familiar motto of the RSPCA.

At that point, we decided to let the kids know what we were up to, given I was spending 8 hours a day on the laptop in another room and clearly not surreptitiously watching Netflix.

Aside from the fact they didn’t believe this moment was truly happening, the advantage of telling them was I could share the application burden with my one literate child.

Fast forward a week and we had another 12 applications in the pipeline. At this point I also discover that Adopt-a-Pet.com has a premium service. You can pay $10 per month to get a fast-tracked view of puppies that appear on the site before anyone else. Now $10 at the time was a month of Netflix subscription. We thought long and hard about it and decided it might be worth the investment. Sure enough, another 10 suitable puppies appeared. 10 for $10. Just speaks directly to the thrifty adopter. More applications were sent and I hit the library and emptied them out of all their dog training books.

We also started watching Victoria Stilwell’s “It’s Me or the Dog” on Amazon Prime which was essential viewing. For those who have not watched, it is a reality show set in both the UK and US. Colossal freak human dog owners and their dogs, who as a result of their human companions, have serious behavioral problems, are overweight, overindulged, neglected, never walked or bite babies. You get the gist. She goes in. Beats up the owners, provides common sense practical training tips and voila, the dog is Lassie.

While reading into the wee small hours and binging Victoria Stilwell, we continued our applications and our search. Then one Sunday afternoon a phone number flashed up “Birmingham, Alabama”. I knew this had to be one of the rescues as most of the dogs in the US are rescued in the southern states where they prefer bibles and guns to dogs and shipped up to the northern states where we prefer dogs to bibles and guns.

Our rescue was foster based, so none of the dogs were caged, but instead with families who looked after them, nursed them back to health, helped birth pregnant dogs and look after the whelps until they are ready for adoption. We really could not have been luckier to find such a devoted group of kind and generous people.

Anyway, as the foster chatted away telling me how much she loved our application and that we were her first phone call I realized I had absolutely no idea what dog she was talking about because we had so many applications in the works. As I stalled her and whipped the laptop open, we discovered the females we were interested in from this litter were little black lab pointer mixes.

What I didn’t realize was that I would have to make the decision there and then. She said she could pick one for us, but we would have to make the decision immediately as to which one we wanted because she knew all six pups will be gone today after she phoned the other five applicants on her shortlist. I let the kids choose and we went with a little puppy called “Friendly”. Our foster said, that is exactly who I would have picked for you. She gave me some more details about the transport from Alabama, which all sounded fine and informed me Friendly would be with us in 6 days.

Six days! I hadn’t even finished the fourth season of It’s Me or the Dog. I had only read 3 of my 8 books. WTActualF was I going to do? When your fear causes total faculty loss. Make a list.

The only reason Jeff Bezos made it to space is because we hit Amazon Prime like a bitch, after speaking to the foster. We single handedly funded that fucker’s mission. Food, toys, bowls, crates, dog beds, insurance, vet, medication. I also went into my own personal hell, attempting to finish the tv series and read five books in five days.

I was barely sleeping. I was stressed to the point friends pointed out the fact I have raised two children and frankly only read one book in order to do that. This however felt extremely different. This was a little life. One that could not speak. One that could not be given back (even though assholes do) and one that I really could not fuck up. You go into parenthood knowing your kids will end up in jail at some point, but the dog, nope. Failure was not an option.