So this sweet pea was deemed aggressive and placed on the
“euth” list. Through the wonderful network of social media, a sizeable
GoFundMe account was established for him (I didn’t know: I usually do this
stuff on my own dime), so his veterinary care and other expenses were covered!
I love good news like that!
He was certainly terrified: his partner was adopted and he
has been alone in a high-kill shelter since May 25. But he took treats
out of my hand very gently; met Buddy very politely (and with his tail tucked
firmly against his tummy); rode very quietly home for 90 minutes in the crate
that I was told I would need before the aggressive dog would be released from
the shelter. He is currently unwinding on my back deck. Out of an
abundance of caution I told my mom not to feed him or to let the two dogs
mingle but he was good to just take in the smells and sounds of High Valley
when I left him.
If I had just stumbled across this boy, I would never have
labeled him “aggressive.” Not dog-reactive, not car-reactive, not
human-reactive except apparently to shelter personnel.
(his shelter name was Apollo, but I don’t think he has any
good associations with that name, so I’ve renamed him Polo)
The First 24 Hours
Sometime during the day: A
hungry Polo confined to the back deck opened the chest freezer on the deck and
ate 40 fish sticks. He closely examined a Dream Dinner but apparently
didn’t care for the salsa. HE. CAN. OPEN. THE. FREEZER!
8:00 PM: Polo is released
into the yard. He spent an hour poking around. Not ready to come
in, and free of his leash, he decided to be frightened, skittish and
untrusting.
9:30 PM: Polo discovered that
he can jump (easily) over the wall along the driveway when I went out to secure
the driveway gate. Now he is at large. No point in looking more for
him in the total darkness, I left the gate open and headed for the house,
hoping for the best. He followed me and sailed over the wall into the
back yard. I secured the driveway gate again and once more tried to coax
him somewhere where I could capture him.
11:00 PM: He knows this
strategy: no dice. I finally opened the basement door and told him he’d find it
warmer in there than in the yard. He ran up onto the deck ahead of me and
I was finally able to lock him up. Then he beat me into the house.
Buddy had helpfully showed him how a dog door works.
11:10 PM: I am too tired to
try to crate him. I head for bed. He joined me and Buddy, who
strong-armed him to the edge, and Polo eventually slept on a pile of clean
clothes.
Sometime overnight: Polo ate
half a loaf of French bread, mom’s breakfast toast. Her reaction:
“Why that little stinker!”
Me, sheepishly: “Haven’t you
missed having a Vizsla around the house?”
Her:
Me: (grin)
Her:
Polo, settling into Natasha’s
recliner after a walk on leash…Entertainment value: high
