These are two posts I had made in other threads:
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When my silver lady lab, Sasha, died a while back, my wife and I took her early death pretty hard. As a result, we had vehemently proclaimed, "no more dam_ed dogs."
We fibbed.
The tale behind the change of heart.....
After Sasha died, the gal at the Arizona Labrador and Giant Breed Rescue {ALGBR} organization who had facilitated Sasha's adoption for us asked me if I would consider being a foster home. I told her we would -- eventually.
So about two weeks ago she called and asked if I would foster a chocolate lab named Hershey until ALGBR found a permanent home for him. Obviously, before I agreed I asked lots of questions and as usual expressed my dislike for male dogs, even though I've had a couple before.
Turns out Hershey was originally turned over to ALGBR for adoption about a year ago. He was five years old then. So he went into a foster home -- one with many younger kids and two other labs -- a yellow and a black. After a few weeks, the foster family decided to keep him, perhaps because Hershey completed the set of colors, so to speak.
Anyway, that relationship lasted until a couple weeks ago when Hershey grabbed a cookie out of the hand of the 9-yr. old son and accidentally grabbed a finger but didn't even break the skin. The boy is autistic, however. As a result, every time he saw the dog, the kid had screaming fits. Hershey was thus relegated to spending his hours in the laundry room whenever the boy was home. It wasn't the ideal life, especially for a dog like Hershey.
Sooooo...the family rightly decided to return Hershey back to ALGBR for another adoption to someone who could provide a better home environment.
I was somewhat concerned how Hershey would react among all my various taxidermy items -- skins, skulls, etc. laying about the house -- that he would have ready access to. I also don't allow dogs on the furniture, especially the leather stuff in our family room. After I spoke with Holley, the lady of the family, I was finally satisfied Hershey would be fine; she assured me he doesn't chew things other than food and doesn't "do" furniture or beds.
His downside: he supposedly would eat anything he could find on the kitchen counters, floor or whatever, and he barked a lot, especially when he wanted to eat, play, heard noises outside, etc. They even used a bark collar on him. Still, I agreed to take him in until he was adopted.
So on a Sunday a bit over a week ago, Holley brought him to my house. As I watched her walk Hershey up the driveway, I thought she had a black bear on the leash. He's big; she told me he weighed 108 lbs. So in they came and Hershey immediately came to me for a friendly greeting.
At that point, Holley said he probably might need to go out. I removed his leash and had him follow me to the dogie door. He had never used one before. I held open the flap, he went out, did his business and came back in through the door. I never had to show him again.
Next, he went over to Sasha's kennel, grabbed her Kong toy, brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. He then walked off and sat down, waiting for me to toss it to him. He caught it in mid-air, just like Sasha always did.
So he moved in and quickly adapted. That night, he met my wife at the door when she came home from work. I had told her we might be getting him, but she didn't know he would be there that day. She didn't really have a problem with it, yet was surprised to see this monster waiting to greet her.
To date, although we have been careful when defrosting steaks and stuff, he has not even looked at "bait" food we purposely leave on the counter. And I'd bet he hasn't barked more than four or five times since he's been here.
He's highly obedient and knows sit, stay, down, heel and come. He'll walk without a leash and readily climbs into the back seat of my Durango to go for a ride. Within two days, I taught him to "kennel" when we eat dinner. He stays in it with the door open now until I finish eating, get him a treat or two and sit on the sofa in the family room. When I say "OK," he walks over, sits and gives me a paw to get the treats. Best of all, he even listens to Ellen.
After three days here, I quickly assayed Hershey as the perfect gentleman. I quickly decided I wouldn't mind keeping him, even with my dislike for male pups. BUT...I wasn't too sure Ellen would agree to this part since she was reluctant to even do the foster home bit. Thus, I had to wait for the right time to even think about mentioning it.
And now for the rest of the story....
Last Weds. night, I was sitting on the family room couch, and my wife was sitting in the recliner a few feet away. Hershey was sitting next to her on the floor with his head on the arm of the recliner. Ellen was petting him, and Hershey was eating it up. She looked at him and said, "Hershey, you're such a super boy."
Suddenly my brain went "BINGO!" -- the opening I had waited for. I quickly jumped into it.
"You know," I said, "even though I don't care for male dogs, we really ought to think about keeping him."
At that point, I expected one of two replies. Either she might say, "No way. I said no more dogs," or "Well, let's think about it for a while." Instead, I got, "But he's so mellow and good."
Ellen's tone was akin to her almost begging me to reconsider the male dog bit. I knew it was a done deal.
The next day I called the gal at ALGBR and told her we wanted to keep Hershey. She was ecstatic because she had met him when he originally came to ALGBR and thought he was a great dog. So she set up an appointment for a visit to the organization's vet to make sure Hershey was in good shape. Other than a minor ear infection and his weight -- now at 114 lbs. -- every thing tested perfect. Thyroid levels normal, no heartworm, etc.
We are currently in the process of an official adoption. Now we have to work on getting his weight down to the 87 lbs. he was a year ago.
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The last two dogs I've owned have been adopted Labs from a rescue organization. The last, Hershey, was a chocolate about 4-5 yrs. old when we got him.
His fav toy was a plain ol' tennis ball. He would lie on his back with the ball in his mouth, then cradle it between his paws and raise it straight up. I would take the ball, put it back in his mouth & he repeated it. He would also lie on his tummy with his legs spread. I would roll the ball between them, & he'd use his nose to push it back to me. I taught him none of it, but I'm guessing someone did.
BUT... when we would go down to our timeshare in Mazatlan, we'd leave him with my oldest son. So one year my son is out in his garage working on his truck with the big door open. His driveway was fairly long and sloped toward the street.
Hershey was out there with him and had a tennis ball. He would take the ball, drop it at the top of the drive and race own to the street to catch it., basically having a game of catch with himself. Then he did all over again. My son said he did it for 15 mins. before he got tired. I can't imagine that anyone taught him that.
