“Megan, this is Whitney from Best Friends.”
The rest of our conversation is mostly a blur now. Whitney asked me for my experience with Diego since I had had him. I told her of the bites, the vet, the fear. She told me that she worked with a nonprofit called Best Friends Animal Society. “Once a Best Friends dog, always a Best Friends dog.” Apparently, Diego had been at this sanctuary in Utah before he came to the rescue in Minnesota. People there knew him and had nothing but good things to say. It’s a no-kill animal shelter. Just another line in the blank pages of his story.
Part of the question was if he had been through too many transitions to adjust, or if he was trainable. I just remember the question, “Are you done done?” She wanted to see if she could get back to me with resources. At the same time, I had an email in my inbox from the rescue in Minnesota saying how they would be ready for a foster to take Diego that weekend. They wouldn’t give him to another home this time.
That was a fear of mine, but they told me that he would be taken to the sanctuary in Utah once a ride was ready. That meant that he would be at a no-kill shelter, so he at least would be alive, right? What does that even look like? He probably gets shoved by some stranger in a crate in the back of a van with other dogs, barking and afraid. Uprooted, and unsure where he even is.
I have a hard time being “done done” with anything if we’re being honest. I told her if she could respond to me that week, I would hear her out. I was struggling too much with the unknown to wait longer.
My roommate was leaving for a work trip in Seattle. She had grown to love Diego, regardless of how uneasy she felt crossing him when they were alone at home. She knew that those moments before her trip could be the last times she would ever see him if the foster was going to pick him up. She asked me if I at least was going to get to see where they were taking him in person to make sure it’s safe. We teared up as I told her that it was states away and we probably wouldn’t ever see it.
After she left, Whitney stayed in touch. I told the rescue in Minnesota that I was not ready for them to take Diego yet, but asked if it was my last chance, or if I decided differently they would still come up with a plan for him. Best Friends would still take him at any time, so that gave me some peace.
I went to the farm over Thanksgiving to visit my parents. Diego, met grandma Lila and was sweet to her. We had a surprisingly warm November weekend, and I sat outside drinking wine and eating Brookside chocolate with my family, Diego strapped around my waist on his leash. My sister sat the farthest away, holding Benny on his leash.
That relationship was tenuous. They still couldn’t be in the same room together. Brittany and I had recently started walking them outside on leashes together. We had to take turns having them in mom and dad’s house. That’s not tough on a relationship or stressful at all…cough cough.
Dad said we should just let them run around outside and get to know each other, but Britt and I weren’t ready to risk it. Mom, however, found an old sleeve muzzle that they had gotten for Simba. It wasn’t really needed for our sweet golden retriever when he was around, but I could get it on Diego’s smaller face with a little breathing room. We decided to test it out.
OPERATION: Doggy play date
EQUIPMENT: Sleeve muzzle, leashes, incredible treats (Thanksgiving ham)
SIDENOTE: If your dog needs regular use of a muzzle, this is not something you should expect them to get used to after you strap it to their face. Definitely train them with it. Your dog does not need to be a “bad dog” to be muzzle trained. More to come on this another time.
We let them run, and it was wild. Diego was fast with quick pivots. Benny was playful and wanted to be chased, and put his mouth around the other dog. There as so much movement it was hard to focus, along with barks and snarls. Diego’s whole muzzle looked wet, and must have had stressful foam coming out of his mouth—but, no injuries! We broke them apart with some enticing treats, and I called it a win.
It was a nice visit, and my family tried to be supportive. It was fun to see my mom and dad find pieces of meat to share so that he would like them. There were so many conversations about keeping him vs getting rid of him. There were moments of, “You aren’t a bad person to give him up,” and “What are you going to do with the next 10 years of your life trying to keep that dog?” “Has that shelter gotten back to you yet?” By the time I got back to my house I was spent, and my mind was swirling about all the preparation and energy it would take for Christmas.
In the meantime, I kept working with Diego. We practiced having him run into his crate, and heel. Every walk was a training walk, working on getting his attention on me, dodging dogs and people. It sucks pulling your gloves off and taking treats out of a pouch in the winter by the way. Hello frozen fingers, you have been abused with cold and constantly smell of beef liver, as do your winter knits.
Through working with him though, he was starting to listen. He would run to me every morning, rolling over for me to pet his tummy. He let my brother Mitch pet him. Brittany could come in the house and he wouldn’t bark unless she moved! Haha, she still has a chair in the corner, but they’re relationship goes at their own pace. It was still hard, but we were finding a rhythm in our life, and let’s face it—being in a pandemic only helped our situation. I wasn’t seeing a lot of other people and worried about missing out on things while I trained my dog at home. It was something that took all my focus.
Finally, I saw a message in my inbox to Whitney and me from some place called The Spencer Group. The subject line:
Your Scholarship Application
Megan Kiecker 