[Dailydrool] So you want a rescued dog eh?

[Pamela McQuade]

I have fostered many dogs--unhappily, I have never kept count--but every 
dog that has come through my door has been special. Some have been 
elderly (and they mostly stayed because they needed a home). Some have 
been older puppies. Some have hit middle age.
 
I do not understand anyone's problem with a rescued dog. I have had ill 
dogs, well dogs, special-need dogs. Right now I think my calling is to 
have special-need dogs, since every dog in our home now fits that bill. 
Are they "the perfect dog"? No. But they are all perfect. I'm not a 
perfect human, so I can hardly ask them to be perfect. Sure, they keep 
me out in the snow when I'm cold and want to come in. They pee on my 
floors. I interrupt occasional fights.
 
But Holly came in our door as a senior who had never really been loved. 
She loved it here so much, she asked to stay. I have always thought she 
might have been happier in a home where she was the only dog, but she 
has made up for that by ruling the roost. She is unfailing sweet to 
humans, and if she doesn't greet you at a Tri-State event that she 
attends, it is never her fault. She loves to socialize.
 
Dexter is the most wonderful, sweet, charming hound in the world (I know 
you all have the same dog in your home, and I admit I am biased). He 
cannot see, since glaucoma won the battle for his vision. But he adores 
every human he meets. He loves Drew and me. He has the charm of a Cary 
Grant, which is why I call him C. Dexter Haven, after Cary's character 
in "The Philadelphia Story." Though, at the time we adopted him, we knew 
he'd lose his sight, we have never been sorry that we adopted him. He is 
perfect, and you'll know that when you see him navigate a strange place 
with just a few directions to keep him on course.
 
Horton only came to us because he had a broken leg and we had a ramp. 
Tri-State had to turn on the charm to get me to take him, because I 
don't do puppies. Really? I am so glad I took him in, though he is very 
fearful. He adores me. He's sweet. He's just afraid of the rest of the 
world, and, reading an article recently, I discovered he probably has 
post-traumatic stress disorder. That's why I'm safe, but no one else 
is--unless it's one of my neighbors, who is also named Pam. (Maybe he 
only likes Pams?)
 
What is perfect about a dog is the good things about it. And every dog 
has some good qualities. Those of us who take in the "broken" dogs know 
this. Those who don't know it are missing out on the best friends they 
could ever have in life.
 
I too am broken. I don't do everything perfectly in life. I have a few 
health issues. I'm not always perfectly patient. But my dogs have been 
patient with me. They don't throw me out because I'm late feeding them. 
They don't stop loving me if I have to spend the day out of the house 
and can't love them up enough. I'm glad they aren't human, because if 
they were, they might have tossed me out long ago.
 
Maybe the imperfect ones aren't the dogs, but the humans. They haven't 
trained their dogs consistently. They haven't loved them enough to be 
willing to take them to the vet over and over again until they are well. 
They've failed their dogs habitually, but in the end, they blame the 
dogs, not themselves.
 
The best dog you'll ever have is a rescue, because that dog will never 
forget that you saved his life (or her life). Dogs have long memories 
and will never forget that. They love you until their last breath, even 
if you don't quite deserve it.
 
Yes, I want a rescued dog. I just can't understand why everyone doesn't.
Pam, food slave to the perfect Dashing Bassets