Dogs. Not horses. Not humans. But also cats, because hoarder.
The hubs is in love with German Shepherds. I am in love with every dog, regardless of breed, but I'm particular about the method of acquisition. I have nothing against anyone who researches a breed, finds a reputable breeder who improves upon it (brachycephalic dogs, anyone?), and supports that breeder with money. I do have issues with pet shops, puppy mills, and backyard breeders. And I think the first option should always be adoption - private adoption, rescue adoption, don't care.
So about six months ago, we started casually looking for a canicorn. A GSD that would be good with cats and the best bitches, have relatively clean hips and elbows, and, in theory, be young/healthy enough to go to the barn with me. I checked every GSD that came through our local humane society. I contacted rescues. I branched into Belgian Malinois, because I like them and convinced D that they were suitable (every K9 cop you speak with will tell you otherwise). I checked Craig's List and actually had a meet-and-greet scheduled before they cancelled.
At this point, I started looking at breeders, too.
And then I finally found her.
I immediately filled out the application and received confirmation that they had gotten it. Then we had a hurricane. And I waited. And waited. Roughly two weeks after I applied and a week after the hurricane, I emailed and asked for a status update. Two days later, I got a call back and we scheduled a home visit.
|"Mom, I loves her."|
This was my first time working with a grassroots rescue and I was really surprised at the involvement of the foster. When D and I fostered the litter of kittens, we returned them to the humane society and they handled the adoption. But, here, the foster was the one to call me. The foster made all the arrangements, inspected my yard, answered my questions, arranged the adoption. And cried when handing the leash over.
The complication to this was that D never got to meet her prior to my adopting her. He saw video. He heard my accounts. And he trusted me. The fine print on her ad said that she was fearful of men, so when the time came to actually pick her up, I went alone.
And I brought home a dog that was the polar opposite of the one I had met a few days prior. She was fearful. Doorways made her nervous. The backyard was frightening. But she immediately loved D and loved food, so we've worked through everything slowly. She's bright and silly and appreciates a good face rub.
We named her Birgette (beer-get), which is German for Bridget, and has an extra "te" for my original old lady, Scarlette. She has absolutely blossomed in the past week. She's got a couple health problems that we're getting checked out today and we're not a hundred percent sure about her age (5-7, is the guess), but even if she doesn't have every quality that we wanted, she's perfect. She's absolutely perfect.