It's now March 31st, and I'm trying to figure out what to do with this dog. We have Sherman (of course), Makeeta (a Shiloh Shepherd, about 10 years old), and Moon (the 1000 year-old Golden Retriever). We don't need 4 dogs. Space is tight, and it's more food, vetting, flea & tick dip, and time. However, being the sucker I am for GSD's, I'm sure not going to turn him out in to the street, or dump him at the pound.
Since Sherman last posted, we've gotten involved somewhat with Canine Pet Rescue, a rescue group that handles mostly GSDs and the occasional mini-Australian Shepherd. We've run transport for several dogs now, picking one up in Anderson, SC, a pair of mini's up in Chattanooga, TN, and I've run a couple pregnant females from the Dekalb County Animal Shelter to the rescue facility. I give CPR a call, and basically, because he's a middle-aged dog, he's HW+ and may have ACL damage, he's not a good candidate for placement. I do get him into the vet the group uses for his rabies and bordetella vaccines, and a fecal float. Turns out the ACL damage may just be a sprain as the limp seems to be lessening quite a bit.
At this point we now have about $75 in him. He's still HW+, still un-neutered, and still not sure what's going to happen. We've started letting our dogs near him while he's in the crate, and over the next couple days make introductions in the garage. He and Sherman play, and play hard. It's good to watch Sherman find a buddy that'll play like he does. Makeeta will occasionally, but only when the mood strikes her. Moon does not play. Ever.
Over the next couple days, Cindy starts bringing him upstairs while I'm at work, only letting one dog at a him interact with him. He explores the house, getting to know the area.
Poor DINKH sleeps in his crate in the basement while everyone else is upstairs. There's some whining when everyone leaves him for the night, but he settles down. Nonetheless, I feel bad for him. Here he is, a lonely guy, isolated from a pack that likes him. I think it's on Thursday, April 7th that I decide he should stay the night upstairs, in a crate in the bedroom. Sherman and I head to bed, bringing DINKH in. Sherman doesn't seem to mind that he's in the same room. "Screw it," I think, "I'm going to leave him out unless there's a problem." DINKH hops up on to the bed, and sacks out for the night. As far as he's concerned, he's home.
Our Facebook friends laugh at us, telling us "Congratulations on your new dog!". "No, " we say, "he's just waiting to find a furever home". And in fact, one fellow that I shoot with on the weekends, a cop with Forsyth county, is interested in meeting him. He and his little girl have just had their tonsils out, so there's a recovery period before they're ready to really meet and greet with DINKH. Plus, I'd like to finish vetting him out as much as possible to make him more desirable for adoption.
We're now up to Thursday, March 14th. DINKH sleeps in the bedroom, pals around with the other dogs, and generally is living the sweet life. But his big adventure today is to get neutered ("Hey, guys, guess what! I'm going to the vet to get tutored!"). I've called around and Hall County Animal Shelter is the cheapest place going at $50. While he's there he's also going to get microchipped. At $20, it's a no-brainer. Tags may get lost, microchips can't.
DINKH gets picked up at 4:30pm, and I spend a little quality time chatting with Dr. Meghan Seabolt (is that a cool name or what?). There is a possibility that we may be able to get shelter pricing on fixing DINKH's heartworm issue. Doing it through our regular vet is $800+, and the Atlanta Humane Society (which seems incapable of having a human answer the phone or returning voicemal) is about $655. In any case, NOT treating it is NOT an option.
In what may be one of the smaller mysteries in life, after his surgery, DINKH has a green line tattooed near his missing harbls. "What's the green line for?" I ask. "To indicate he's been neutered." is the reply. "..." I say. Yea. I'm pretty sure you can tell if your MALE dog is missing his harbls or not. Females, I can understand. Ah, the logic of bureaucracy.
On to part III for the conclusion.
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