Gypsy was my heart and losing her was hard. As many of you have guessed, I surprised myself and now have a new pup. Padfoot is brilliant but also a handful. It’s been twenty years since I adopted a young stray with all the complications that can bring. The gift that resulted from taking him on is I have had no time for grief since I brought him home.

I love Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar books – coming of age stories combining high adventure and magic with exercises in critical thinking. Her world contains a number of creatures constructed with magic, one of which is a wyrsa.

I never thought I’d own one.

“In color they were a smoky black, with skin that gave an impression of smooth scales rather than hair. They had long, long necks, too long by far, and arrowhead-shaped heads that were an uncanny mingling of snake and greyhound, with yellow, pupilless eyes that glowed in the same way and with the same shifting color that the globe that had birthed them had glowed. The teeth in those narrow muzzles were needle-sharp, and as long as a man’s thumb. They had bodies like greyhounds as well, but the legs and tails seemed unhealthily stretched and unnaturally boneless.”
Mercedes Lackey, Magic’s Pawn

See what I mean? Look at those ears!

I met Padfoot volunteering at the shelter here in Northside. He was the first dog given to me to walk during volunteer training. I planned to wait a year before adopting another dog but he tugged my heartstrings and I knew I would regret it forever if I didn’t adopt him.

Cincinnati Animal CARE made it easy. Two days after we met I took him out for a day trip. By the end of the day I did not want to bring him back so I called the shelter and they moved him into the Foster to Adopt program, a one week trial period. As a bonus, that week they were waiving adoption fees for all Foster to Adopt dogs over 40 pounds.

I resisted. I felt I was being set up. I mean, the first dog they hand over to me was named after one of my favorite Harry Potter characters, and while he is brindle, not merle, he has Gypsy’s coloring (though not her eyes). Smart, playful, handsome, affectionate, housebroken; when given the opportunity, he shredded my AARP circulars instead of my shoes. And that week (and that week only) I could have him for free.

It was too much. But then I thought, “when God wants you to have something, He makes it easy.” Like how many signs did I need for me to understand Padfoot was mine? So what if he’s hyper? I can manage that. And then I thought “Gypsy did this. She doesn’t want me to be sad anymore, so she sent this brilliant dog.”

I adopted him. Then as often happens, he got more confident. Wyrsa tendencies emerged, existing side by side with his other lovely characteristics like an evil twin. Life became a battle on multiple fronts.

Padfoot had been at CARE for 16 days when I met him. CARE assesses all their dogs for behavior to ensure volunteers only interact with dogs they are trained to handle. Padfoot was a green dog, which is a no-problem dog, the kind of dog you give to a new, senior citizen volunteer. He was documented as having appropriate interactions in play group. When the walk coordinator handed him over to me she said, “He’s very trainable.”

I was unprepared when things changed.

Padfoot came down with kennel cough the first night he spent with me. It takes up to two weeks for kennel cough to incubate. I took him home on his 16th day at CARE. Most likely he was exposed during the three-day hold required for all strays. He was vaccinated (and neutered) as soon as his hold was up, but by then it was too late. As soon as he was clear, I took him to the vet for his initial checkup. They discovered giardia, which required two courses of treatment.

Along with the endless disinfecting of everything from his toys to all the bedding in the house, his waterbowl and even his butt, he had to remain isolated from other dogs for a month. I suspect that made everything worse.

The first sign of a problem was when my perfect green dog became mouthy and jumpy. He wanted to play with me the way he played with other dogs, or maybe he was practicing his police dog takedowns. When I threw my arms up to ward him off his overly long claws tore up my aging skin. He resisted letting me trim them and I could not in good conscience take him anywhere to get them trimmed.

He began to act like he was boss. He flipped out when I left him in a crate. He became leash reactive, though he was fine when he was loose in the dog park. When we started dog school, he behaved like a wild man and eventually snapped at the trainer, who suggested a muzzle (If you ever want to see a dog flip out, try accidentally dropping a training treat while he’s wearing a muzzle and can’t pick it up).

I’ve had challenging dogs before. Beez wintered over at Red River Gorge before a friend and I rescued him. I don’t think he’d ever been inside. He ate two sofas on the way to becoming an obedience star (neighbors offered to trade their children for him).

Two days after I adopted Max she tried to lunge out of the driver-side window of my car to get at the drive through cashier at White Castle. I had to tie her up to the passenger-side door handle to get my food. For six months she threatened to rip the lungs out of everyone who came within 20 feet.

In the seventh month I was hit by a car while riding my bike. Along with the cognitive problems and debilitating fatigue that I never fully recovered from, I was in pain for three years. My bossy girl Max was the one who insisted I get up and move, even if it was only to the corner of the property and back. I am convinced Max is the reason my pain did eventually go away. And yes, she became a perfectly civilized dog.

Padfoot is possibly the smartest and absolultely the most challenging dog I’ve ever owned. I know we can get through this though I am no expert dog trainer. At this point, Padfoot is too excitable and reactive for group classes. Fortunately CARE has an alumni group on Facebook with lots of resources and a behavioral team if I need them. It’s been a process of trial and error (lots of trial, lots of error) to see what he responds to. We’ve turned a corner, though we have a long way to go.

I’ll share our experiences in future newsletters. Next up: Adventures in Crating