There are days and then there are days. Today was a culmination of feeling, when after a week long introspection on whether or not to adopt a beautiful Newfoundland dog that literally showed up at our door, clamouring for entrance and a place in our home, it ended with a clear but kindly "no." Galumph, as we called her, was a black and white beauty- not really a Newfoundlander, but from the same family- she was a Landseer. She showed up with a muzzle and a Harley Davidson dog collar, covered in mud from Laurel Creek where she'd spent God knows how long romping around before her tummy told her to seek out some dog-loving humans.
We freed her of the muzzle, (probably used to quell barking, as we would learn), and she quickly went through bowls of water and food. She was so eager to be loved, and she was unbelievably adorable. She was so cuddly and effervescent in her pleas to be hugged, rubbed, patted and oh my! Try uttering the "walk" word, and not getting bowled over with paws on the shoulders and a "OH YEAH WOW GROOVEY, LET'S GO NOW NOW NOW!!!!" response. She was irrepressible and irresistible. We postered the whole area that evening, and kept her overnight since the Humane Society was already closed. There was black and white fun everywhere, and drool goblets were flung far and wide, over computer monitors, sofas and curtains, and mashed into the Laurel Creek mud on our floor. Dallas pretended there wasn't really another dog in her space, and she jealously guarded her spot on the carpet. Thankfully, Galumph respected her space, and left her alone. It was our love and attention she craved anyway.
My suspicions were immediately aroused, I have to say, by the Harley collar and the fact that her underbelly showed signs that she might have had a litter. We drove her to the Cambridge emergency vet clinic that night to see if she was micro-chipped, and if that might lead us back to the owners. She had no chip, and no tattoo. So that made her an off-label, non-CKC registered dog, and as I had let the circumstantial evidence tell me- she was used to back-yard breed puppies, and then thrown away.
Galumph was picked up next day by the Humane Society, and we were told she'd be held for 5-10 days for the owner to claim her. Then she'd be put up for adoption. The days went by, and as we learned to our distress, Galumph was put in quarantine- put in a cage, and allowed no contact with other dogs. Given her need to be touched and loved, this upset us and added stress to the process. We called to check in on her, and Kate and Diane showed up a couple of times hoping to see her, but it was no dice- Galumph was off-limits.
Then I got the call, telling me that Galumph would be going up for adoption, and as the finders, we had first dibs. Did we want her? I also learned that she was known to the Humane Society and had been found before. Her owners apparently didn't want her back. Now that made me angry. They had enjoyed the puppy years and then dumped her. GRRRR.
We had already been agonizing over her, anticipating this outcome as the days ticked slowly by. We don't have the space, living as we are in our Airstream. There's ample room for us and Dallas, but Galumph would really be pushing it. She made Dallas look tiny. We would have to budget major run/bike/swim time with her every day, just to knock her out. Then there were the questions- she had a LOUD bark. Would she bark when we left, and generate complaints from our neighbours? Would she have a negative effect on our almost 14-year old Dallas? We figured probably, yes... Still, we couldn't bear to say no without at least seeing her again.
Our friend and neighbour Diane joined us, since she'd been involved in that first night's adventures. She had in fact, nearly taken the dog in herself. So the three of us drove out for a riotous reunion with Galumph, who proved to remember us, and to be even more endearing than when we first met her. Within minutes, the floor was covered in drool and dark fur balls, and our clothes were a different colour too, since Gally couldn't resist leaping onto us, making like a lap dog. *sigh* As much as she was such an incredible animal, I didn't get the "feeling" that we were supposed to take her home. Still, we said we'd tell them next morning, and left feeling very conflicted.
Over the course of the evening, Diane, myself and Kate all expressed the feeling that we shouldn't do it, although it was mighty tempting. Dallas can't even manage the dog-ramp up anymore, and we have to lift her from behind. Sometimes, if you're inside already, you'll be treated to the image of Dallas floating slightly above the ramp, paws moving like they're pulling her up, but really being lifted and propelled from behind. She sleeps constantly. But yet- now that they've flooded Laurel Creek again, and Dallas has learned there's a lake to be swum in- she will still stagger/run/walk all the way from the boundary fence to the water- a good 10 minute stagger-pace away. She loves it so much, she'll barely check to make sure you're still with her. She's not done yet. In fact, I can imagine her determinedly pulling herself on elbows and belly alone, poor back legs useless behind her, just to get a little closer to that water she loves so much. And once there, she gets to float and chase balls- free of gravity that would keep her down.
Finally, this morning, the Humane Society manager called to say she thought we shouldn't take her into such a small space either. Perversely, I argued with her, telling her how active we are, and experienced, ... and then I stopped myself and admitted we had decided not take her anyway. I don't know what came over me. Jan, the manager, told us that given our lifestyle, she might have normally said yes, but there was information we didn't have. Not only was Galumph a barker, a glorious and talented drooler, and a shedder- she had another habit that would be hard to deal with in a trailer- she loved to "frolic and surf" in her own poo. She needed constant bathing and cleaning. (!!) Well, if we'd known THAT in the beginning, we could have saved ourselves some keen agonizing!! That would really be unsupportable, even if hadn't decided that for Dallas' sake, we couldn't do it.
We also learned that the original owners "had a new puppy," and were therefore willing to let her go. I can't help but feel that the new puppy is Galumph's offspring, given that she's not spayed and shows signs of recent nursing. They've used her and thrown her away. I could scream. I want to track them down and slap them across the face, giving them a piece of my mind while I'm at it. Instead, I'm going to go for a head-clearing jog, and reaffirm my commitment to support those amazing folks who work in animal shelters, trying to shield these wonderful animals from the worst in us. If you're reading this, and you're one of those workers or volunteers- God bless you for it.
If you're in search of the most wonderful, endearing young dog you can imagine, and you've got the space to handle her- You need to go to the Waterloo Humane Society and ask for Maggie. Although we feel her real name is Galumph.
Hard to be soft
Tough to be tender~
