What it takes to rescue a dog: a matchmaker, a plane ticket and a Dolly Parton lookalike

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2015/may/01/rescue-dogs-sarah-dog-matcher-peggy-brinks-care

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“So many goldendoodles. So many! This is the breed New Yorkers are crazy about. They don’t shed, they’re not too big, they’re hypoallergenic. Those dogs find a family right away. It’s big dogs who have trouble getting adopted.”

In late March I met with Sarah, my dog matchmaker. We were discussing breeds popular among would-be owners. Sarah tirelessly helps rescue dogs in the New York region, and her mission was to help me find a match.

My mind was set. I had no time for tiny dogs – I wanted a loyal companion to take hikes. Most of all, I longed for a clever breed. In short, I wanted a border collie. But it needed to be a rescue.

According to the ASPCA, 3.9 million dogs enter US shelters every year, with 1.2m of those ending up euthanised. Of the dogs entering shelters, approximately 35% are adopted, 31% euthanised and 26% returned to their owners. The proportion of dogs in the US purchased from breeders is 28%; these breeders can either be caring and professional, or run horrifying puppy mills (they are the subject of a bill currently headed to the Senate).

Reading those numbers made it difficult for me to consider anything other than adoption, especially since I did not want a dog with a specific skillset (after all, I don’t hunt or own a flock of sheep).

My quest to find a canine buddy had started months before, back when I was living in Australia. After considering the costs of moving a dog from Sydney to New York ($3,000, if you’re wondering), I relented and decided to wait. In the meantime, I scoured forums and asked friends for tips. I even read one of Cesar Millan’s books.

Research told me a purebred border collie was folly – being working dogs, spending time in an apartment would drive most of them up the wall. But with some luck, I could maybe find the right mutt with a calm temperament.

Enter Sarah. She helped first and foremost by reassuring me. I visited her in her Brooklyn home, in the Park Slope neighborhood, and met her two (very) big dogs, Shaggy and Ozzie. They did not seem to mind city life at all with three or four daily walks on their schedule. Shaggy was so full of life, in fact, that he managed to tackle me to the ground while playing.

Next, Sarah emailed me with suggestions for adoptable dogs: some she knew were about to be available thanks to her connections with nearby shelters, some she thought were just my “type”.

This is where the most harrowing part of rescuing a dog begins. You have to say “yes, no, yes, no, maybe” to every profile you lay your eyes on, knowing full well some dogs have been waiting for months. You have to say no to dogs who you suspect have immense behavioural issues. You have to say no to dogs who may be in danger of being euthanised. And, frankly, you have to say no to perfectly lovely pets who just don’t fit your dog ideals. It’s a bit like Tinder for dogs, with the stakes higher than just a bad date for the canines involved.

The other side of the coin is that you also have to say yes and hope for the best, only to have your heart broken many times over in the process. There was Buddy, a brown mutt who was snapped away by another family in New Jersey. Adorable Cinders, who wouldn’t have been a good fit for me. Tom Solomon, a mutt rescued by Badass Brooklyn from a Texas high kill shelter, adopted by a family who had been pre-approved months before me. And to illustrate horrible cases of cruelty, there was a brave dog who had been shot in the face, but had made it alive. I really wanted to give him a chance, but was told a family in Connecticut had gotten to him first.

From this viewpoint, I could see how buying from a breeder could be easier than applying to rescue a dog. Breeders don’t always ask for long applications detailing your habits, don’t judge your character, and most don’t put you on months-long waiting lists.

And then, the internet led me to Mittens. She was advertised on Petfinder as adoptable in San Antonio, which seemed incredibly far. I had misgivings about adopting a dog sight unseen, but was told she was a well-balanced, happy-go-lucky mutt currently fostered on a Texas farm with five other dogs, a goose, chickens and other animals.

I talked to Peggy Brink, the co-founder of Care, the organisation responsible for saving Mittens. Brink, a younger Dolly Parton lookalike, started the nonprofit in early retirement, not realising this would quickly turn into another full-time job (she takes no salary).

Brinks says that southern shelters are full of stray, abused or neglected dogs. Most of them have 48 to 72 hours before being put on the euthanasia list. She visits the shelter every week, and chooses dogs based on temperament – no fighters, no bite history allowed. The dogs are then spayed or neutered, microchipped, vaccinated and placed in one of the 60 foster homes working with Care (however, Brinks says they could use three times that amount).

Chihuahas, pit bulls and – heartbreakingly, considering Texas’s weather – huskies are the breeds topping the shelter’s list. The San Antonio shelter’s first priority is to re-home dogs, and in recent years, Brinks says, they have made enormous strides: 80% of dogs are now getting out alive. Thanks to Care, close to 600 dogs are adopted every year, 70% of which are then put on a plane out of state.

And this is how, a few days after putting in an application and being accepted, I headed to LaGuardia airport to meet Mittens (I have since re-named her Miri). As she landed after a long flight from Texas to New York, I paced in circles in the airport’s US Postal Service parcel office, thinking about how my life would change. When a quiet, black little thing finally appeared in a crate on the conveyor belt, I thought my heart was about to leap out of my chest.

A few weeks later, Miri remains good as gold. She’s clever, inquisitive and tilts her head to the right when something intrigues her. She has also chewed through about $100 worth of computer leads so far and licks my face every morning at 6am sharp, and I now spend my time in work meetings praying I don’t smell like a dog.

Worth it, if you ask me.

All in all, she’s a shining ambassador for rescue dogs. Plenty of pitbulls, labs, huskies and mutts are still patiently waiting for their turn to shine.