DogTown (29 page)

“How’s it going, baby girl?” John said soothingly. Then, to Michelle, he said, “She’s looking right at me, so she knows I’m walking her. She’s gravitating toward you, but at least she’s acknowledging me as safe and secure.”

After that, Vivian just seemed to be ignoring John, which is exactly what he wanted.

NEW FRIENDS FOR VIVIAN

Later on that same afternoon, Michelle and John decided to attempt to move Vivian into a run with two other dogs who also had traumatic histories—Joe, another Katrina survivor (who had been returned from an adoptive home due to biting), and Pedro, who had been rescued from the war zone in Lebanon. Moving a dog like Vivian into a group situation could potentially help her learn to live with other animals. But the trainers were also aware that putting dogs together like this could be explosive, like throwing a match into a fireworks factory. In fact, John said, “Dog intros are probably the most dangerous thing we do here.”

Still, John and Michelle knew that both Pedro and Joe had good “dog skills,” meaning that they mixed easily with new dogs, and that Vivian also liked other dogs. (Her hostility was directly primarily at humans.)

A good scratch cements the strong friendship between Vivian and Dogtown Manager Michelle Besmehn.

First, Michelle went into Vivian’s run and leashed her up. Vivian knew Michelle well enough by now to tolerate this amiably. Next, John leashed up Joe, a black Lab, and walked him into the run with Vivian. The two dogs sniffed each other curiously. Then Joe began to romp around Vivian, in a puppylike way, darting in and out. Vivian stood her ground, regarding him with something like regal amusement.

“Boy, she’s got that ‘tough girl’ attitude, doesn’t she?” John said.

Then it was Vivian’s turn to dart around playfully, seeming to accidentally bump into Joe. Vivian was clearly the heavier, more powerfully built of the two dogs, and this body-bumping play-display may quickly have established a pecking order. Whatever was going on, it seemed to have satisfied both dogs, and they both settled down surprisingly quickly.

Next, Pedro was brought in on leash, and a similar getting-to-know-you routine took place. The three dogs seemed to quickly work out a friendly social arrangement. It appeared that Vivian was becoming a part of the pack.

This placid scene seemed a world away from the first day John saw Vivian savagely lunging against the fence. “The first time I saw her, she had the most negative reaction towards me imaginable,” he recalled. “She was really nasty. And now, she sees me and she gets all wiggly. She really is happy and enthusiastic to have me take her out of her run. Once you get to know her, which isn’t that difficult, she’s a lover. I mean, she’s just adorable.”

But Vivian isn’t out of the woods yet. She has made great progress in overcoming her fears, but there is still much to accomplish. She must make new connections with new people and fully overcome her barrier aggression before adoption can be a reality for her. Vivian continues to live at Dogtown as a red collar dog. She and her trainers, including Michelle and now John, will continue to work with her on her barrier aggression and other threatening behaviors.

John said, “I have high hopes for Vivian because she is such a cute, loving dog, but no matter what, we’re not gonna say, ‘Oh, she’s fixed. We’ll put her into a home with kids’ before she’s ready. We’re not gonna set her up to fail. We’re gonna set her up for success. Even if Vivian is never placed in a suitable home, we’ll take care of her here at Dogtown forever. The rest of her life is gonna be a good life, no matter what.”

The fear and chaos of Katrina, which spread like dark water over the lives of Vivian and Scruffy, may have stained their spirits forever, but the storm also brought them to Dogtown, where these gallant creatures may learn to live. There, they can be “set up for success” despite all the psychological wounds they bear. Their pasts have given them much to overcome, but the dedicated team at Dogtown will continue to work toward their ultimate goal: a life without fear.

O
ver the years there have been many, many dogs who have changed my life and in some cases even saved it. But the one who will always be closest to my heart is my girl, Spikey Doo. I met her when I was 16 and visiting friends in Southern California. Back then, her name was just plain Spike. She was a year-old American pit bull terrier (I call them pitties for short) and had a great life. She had lots of room to run around in her California backyard. There were lots of little kids around to play with her, too. Her rambunctious, fun-loving personality jumped out at me, and I instantly saw what a great dog she was.

But Spike’s situation was changing. Her family had to move to Texas and couldn’t bring her along because of housing restrictions in their new place. They had exhausted all their options in trying to find different living arrangements and were really concerned about what was going to happen to their dog. Before the move, they were looking high and low for a forever home for Spike, but time was running out.

As soon as I met Spike, I thought she would fit in perfectly with my family back in Utah. Because my mom and I lived out in the middle of nowhere, there was a lot of room for Spike to exercise. We also had a lot of companion animals for her to play with. At the time I had a dog, a chow-timber wolf mix named Sprocket, two cats, ducks, chickens, a rooster, and a crow. Plus, in my mind I could just imagine how much fun Spike would be as a hiking buddy. I had always had energetic dogs like her in my life, so I told the family, “If you can’t find a place for her to go, let me know. She can come live with me in Utah.”

Of course, after I made the offer, in my mind it was set in stone: Spike was now my dog. But there was another person I needed to consult: my mom. I hadn’t yet let her know that another dog was on her way to our home, so I decided to do the right thing and tell her. Mom wasn’t very surprised; I would routinely show up with abandoned animals to care for. This time, I could tell she was hesitant about my bringing home a strange dog, but being the best mom in the world, she told me she would help me transport Spike to Utah. My mom told us to rent a car and drive Spike out to a halfway point near Las Vegas. She would meet us there and drive Spike and me back to our home.

Spike’s family and I rented a swanky Lincoln Town Car with all the bells and whistles (the first one I’d seen) for Spike’s road trip to Vegas. Spike’s family decided to come with us so they could say goodbye to her. Even though they knew Spike would have a great home, they were still very sad. It was an amazingly difficult decision for them, and they felt as though they were truly losing a part of themselves. I kept assuring them that I would take very good care of their baby and they were welcome to visit her anytime. There were a lot of hugs and tears when they said goodbye. And then they got in their car and drove back to California, and we got into ours and drove Spikey Doo to her new forever home. Once we arrived in beautiful southern Utah/Northern Arizona (yes, I’m actually an Arizonan), my adventure with Spikey Doo really began.

Being 16 and not really knowing much other than what I had experienced with all my other dogs growing up, I was under the impression I would just let Spike out of the car and she would fit right in with all the other animals at our house. We were one big happy family, and I thought Spike would just blend in with everyone. Boy, was I wrong.

Spike’s introduction to our pets didn’t go very smoothly, to say the least. Spike didn’t know other dogs and cats—much less ducks, chickens, roosters, and crows—so she didn’t know quite what to do around them. Looking back, all I can say is that Spikey Doo must have thought I’d brought her to her first buffet. The first thing she did was try to pick a fight with Sprocket, and then proceeded to chase anything that would run away from her. It was chaos—every animal was sprinting away from her. I ran after Spikey Doo and finally caught her before anyone got hurt. As I stood there catching my breath, I started to think that I might have made a very bad decision.

My mom looked overwhelmed as she watched. She knew how important it was to me to save Spike’s life, and she could tell from the look on my face that she wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by the situation. But, great mom that she is, she took one look at me and told me not to give up. If we kept trying, we would find a way to help Spikey Doo adjust.

This was one of my first experiences with truly negative behavior in an animal. All of my other dogs (including pitties) were relatively issue free because they had been exposed to lots of them from a very young age. Growing up, I always felt like I could handle anything that came my way when it came to dogs, but this was the first time I came up against big socialization issues like these. It was all new to me.

The goal was to get Spikey Doo used to our other pets, and I was determined to help her do it. But I wasn’t quite sure how to do it. Spikey Doo clearly hadn’t been around a lot of other animals in her California home. Because she lacked socialization, she had had no experience to draw on when she met these other creatures. When I was pondering how I could help this new spunky girl while not jeopardizing any of my other animals, it hit me—I simply can’t give up.

One of the first things we tried actually turned out to be the best: constant supervision. I stayed with Spikey Doo every minute—everywhere I went, she went, too. It was a lot of work because I had to make sure she didn’t put any of our pets in danger, but it was also a lot of fun—we really got to know each other. She was a playful, smart, spunky girl who learned quickly but who still needed a lot of guidance when interacting with other animals. The first few weeks were rough, but I stayed patient and gave her lots of time to figure things out. To this day, I think the best thing I did was giving it time and letting her learn that all the other animals were part of our family and, now, so was she. And the hard work started to pay off. Spikey Doo eventually understood what I was trying to convey to her and started to see the other animals as friends, not lunch.

That one-and-a-half-year-old pup has grown into a gray-muzzled, little old lady. Spikey Doo has come a long way since those first sketchy days, and, believe it or not, today she is a role model for other dogs with socialization issues like the ones she had. She routinely helps new foster dogs coming into our home by “showing them the ropes” and being a positive role model. New dogs look to her example to see how to act.

Life without Spikey Doo is unimaginable to me. Helping her become the wonderful girl she is today was one of my first true challenges, but all it really took was patience, love, and understanding. Spikey Doo taught me several crucial lessons about dogs. Through Spikey’s first meeting with my pets, I saw how dogs truly are individuals—just because all my other dogs liked other animals didn’t mean that every dog would behave the same way. I learned that the most powerful tools in helping create change are patience and understanding. Once I took the time to see the world through Spikey Doo’s eyes, it helped me to figure out the best way to help her. And my experience with her put me on the path to Best Friends and to a career dedicated to saving dogs just like her. I owe her a great deal and am thankful for every day I get to spend with the infamous Spikey Doo.