Anyone remember Laszlo, our foster puppy from Southeast German Shepherd Rescue?
He was just a little guy when we had him, back in April 2013.
I got the pleasure to see him again this past March, when I taught a calligraphy workshop at the vineyard where his person, Tracey, works.
What a handsome little dude! He looks like a miniature German shepherd, with macro ears.
He has turned into a fantastic dog, and he is so well-mannered and calm.
I taught the workshop for about three hours, and he camped out like this in the room with all of us, like a complete darling.
Tracey has done a marvelous job with him. He gets to roam around the winery with her all day and behaves himself beautifully with people, children, other animals. He also is still loving life with his big sister, BB, a German shepherd, and a gigantic cat out on their mini farm.
It does the heart good to see a former foster thriving. Laszlo has a great life, and I couldn’t be happier for him.
If you fostered, do you ever get to see your former fosters?
“Compassion for animals is intimately associated with goodness of character, and it may be confidently asserted that he who is cruel to animals cannot be a good man.”
— Arthur Schopenhauer, The Basis of Morality
(Photos from September 2013 of my husband and our foster pup Draco, who came from an abusive/hoarding situation in West Virginia. He was such a cuddler! Dogs’ capacity for forgiveness of human beings never fails to astonish and humble me.)
And happy 29th birthday to my husband, whose compassion for animals qualifies him as a good man, and who very patiently puts up with my dog craziness.
This past weekend, we walked for about 12 miles in and around Hampstead and particularly enjoyed Hampstead Heath.
I was, naturally, fixated on observing all of the dogs, who get to run around the gigantic park off leash. Hampstead Heath is like an enormous, boundary-less dog park, and the dogs all appeared to be in heaven. And per usual here in London, they were all behaving beautifully. I didn’t see a single fight or tussle. Many of the dogs ignored each other, and if they did stop to greet each other, it was very brief and polite.
Quick phone photos of a small fraction of all of the dogs we saw:
(*The only anxious dog I saw was a German shepherd puppy. Go figure. We asked to pet her, and she was a fluffy bundle of nerves, about 12 weeks old. She was crying because she couldn’t bite the wheels of a child’s tricycle. Her back hocks were horribly misshapen and she had no strength at all in her back end. I hate seeing that. I really do.)
More than anything, this park made me wish our girls could have been raised in London. I daresay they would have been so much more well-adjusted in public, if they had had regular access to such immense and beautiful off-leash places. Definitely something to keep working on once we come home in August.
Visiting this park inspired me to visit more of the parks in our area back home. We don’t have an off-leash space quite to this degree of magnificence, but we do have some safe trails to practice recall. I am inspired!
Do you have an off-leash area near where you live?
Eden was our belated Christmas present to ourselves last year. The day before we left for Christmas vacation, I received a brief, excited email from the vice president of the German shepherd rescue that we fostered for (and from whom we adopted Pyrrha). She knew that we were looking for a friendly, confident young dog to add to the family — as a companion for Pyrrha, who thrives in the company of other dogs, and as a reward for Guion, in a sense, for so patiently abiding with a dog who feared and disliked him, through no fault of his own.
“I think I have a puppy for you,” she wrote, attaching a photo of a smiling 4.5-month-old Edie (then named Eva) sitting between the legs of an older man. We were instantly smitten and told her we’d “foster” the puppy for a few weeks and decide if we wanted to keep her. “Everyone who has met her wants to keep her,” the vice president wrote, “but I want you guys to have first dibs.”
Eden was purchased as a puppy from a Maryland breeder (specializing in West German imports and schutzhund) by a well-to-do young family, with three small children. The family, although they took good care of the puppy, was unprepared for the level of insanity and energy that a working-line German shepherd entailed. Instead of being returned to the breeder (which struck me as a black mark on the breeder’s record), she was surrendered to the rescue.
She was first evaluated to see if she’d be suitable for police work, owing to her immense amounts of energy, but she failed that test, as she lacked focus and would rather jump on and kiss the handlers instead of completing the task at hand.
Cassie, our rescue contact, brought her to meet me at the same Petco where we met Pyrrha, on a very rainy, gross day at the end of December. Eden bolted through the automatic doors and ran right up to me, ready for pets. We sat on the wet floor of the Petco and talked for a while about the puppy’s background. The family who gave her up sent her with a box of expensive toys, deer antlers, high-quality kibble, and a pricey collar.
“She has just one physical defect,” Cassie said, gently opening Eden’s mouth. Panting happily, I quickly saw the issue; this puppy was missing a good chunk of her tongue. “Apparently, they had her in doggy daycare, and she was attacked by an older dog,” she said. “But she doesn’t seem bothered by it at all.” Indeed, she didn’t seem the least bit frightened of other dogs, who kept coming in and out of the Petco as we talked. Eden seemed to see them all as potential playmates.
She got along with Pyrrha easily from the first day. As you can see from the photo above, she was immediately respectful of Pyrrha’s space. But as she got more comfortable in our house, she became more gutsy and bold and started getting testy around her food bowl (when Pyrrha approached, never with us). We started working on that from Day 1, and I’m happy to say that her resource guarding issues are greatly diminished.
Truthfully, the girls are probably not the most ideal pairing of dogs. Don’t get me wrong — they get along beautifully 90% of the time. But they are not in love with each other, like Ruby and Boca, for example. They are both stubborn, strong-willed, and relatively high-strung bitches. But when they play together in the morning, racing in wild loops of tag games and tossing out play bows with abandon, it warms one’s heart considerably.
Eden also likes to kiss Pyrrha’s mouth in the morning, after breakfast. Sometimes, she sticks a good part of her muzzle into Pyrrha’s open jaws, as if hunting for treasure (food remnants, more likely). It seems like a dangerous gambit — someone’s going to lose an eye! — but they enjoy this ritual and observe it regularly.
She LIVES to PLAY. Play is just about the only thing that matters in her universe. She has a devotion to fetching that parallels a retriever’s, and her athletic, acrobatic displays in catching items mid-air have become spectacular.
To keep everyone sane, Guion has been wonderfully faithful about morning Frisbee games with Eden. This, naturally, has made him her favorite human, which was part of the goal in adopting her in the first place, so that poor Guion could have a dog of his own.
If Guion doesn’t move fast enough for her liking in the morning, she begins to emit a series of excitable whines and cries, often seeming to mimic an aboriginal song, with moans and ululations. She prances around him, singing and shrieking, until he pulls his boots on. And then: Silence. GAME FACE.
A few months after we got her, she started dropping weight and not gaining it back, to a dangerous degree. She had dipped to a mere 43 pounds by the end of January. The vet ran all sorts of tests; nothing was conclusive (no worms, no giardia). I was convinced that she had the debilitating disease EPI (exocrine pancreatic insufficiency), which is common in shepherds. But we ran the expensive series of tests for that and those also came back negative. Finally, the vet tried a more intensive version of the giardia test that we’d done earlier, and there we had it: Little babe was riddled with giardia. She then passed it on to Pyrrha, and we spent about two-and-a-half (very expensive) months getting them healthy again. I am happy to report that she is now healthy and stable and weighs in at 56 pounds, which seems just about perfect for her.
Eden is bold with eye contact. She wants to stare deeply into your eyes and hold you there in her gaze, unblinking. Pyrrha cannot handle this kind of intense eye contact, even with me; it is too much for her. But not Edie. She wants to look deep into your soul and learn all of your secrets.
She loves to bark. To announce her presence! To inform the neighborhood that she is large and in charge! It’s not usually a protective bark. (The protective bark we’ve heard from her a few times, and that is a distinctly different, dangerous timbre. She actually sounds frightening when she pulls that one out.) But her typical bark is far from scary. It’s heraldic, joyful, self-important.
Eden is growing sweeter, I think. Just as a teenager gradually becomes less self-absorbed and starts to recognize the presence of other beings around her.
She is especially docile and cuddly in the evenings. It is my favorite time with her. She is a positive terror in the mornings, so much so that I almost never have a peaceful breakfast, but when the sun goes down, she is ready to be a placid dog. She wants to sit at your feet, or lean against your chair, or hop up on the sofa and put her sweet little head on your shoulder. I think she is saying, Here I am. Right here. Don’t forget to love me.