Modern Dog Blog

Dyson came to live here quite by accident. How do you accidentally become the owner of 100lbs of black lab you say? Let me tell you.

I was looking for a small fluffy dog for a client of mine, and was surfing the Petfinder site, and local rescues and animal shelters. Literally scrolling through dogs upon dogs, came to a dead stop when I saw his face and said, “That’s my dog, Josh look, that’s my dog.” To which he replied, “Sure, he’s cute, go get him.” (He was being very agreeable and not really serious) “No, you don’t understand, that’s really my dog.” I printed out his picture, and decided to see what I could do for him. This happened on a Saturday night, and of course, the shelter isn’t open Sunday or Monday, so I had all that time to stew on it. Tuesday rolled around and sweated, got nauseous, and talked myself in and out of going to the shelter at least three times.

Ok, suck it up, just go already. So I went. I confused the poor people at the desk by asking for him and saying that I was interested in helping him get into lab rescue. Turns out lab rescue had a volunteer there right then to look at him. I found her outside and explained that I really wanted to help this dog, that I was a trainer, and that I would be willing to foster and train him until a suitable home could be found. Then the staff brought him out, oh dear lord, he was HUGE! A huge, pissing, lunging beast that made no eye contact with anyone and was intent on going away. Not with any particular destination, just away. I was hooked. He was smelly, dirty, not neutered - and he was mine. Heaven help me, what have I gotten into?

The nice volunteer agreed to speak with the powers that be about me fostering him for lab rescue, apparently you have to fill out a form, have a home check, blah blah blah. But they were willing to work with me since I was experienced with dogs, and that I particularly wanted to take on this one, who had been sitting in the shelter for six weeks because he was too big and intimidating. Many phone calls later, I went to pick him up on Friday afternoon. They let me name him Dyson, after my fabulous purple vacuum cleaner - cause how appropriate is that for a lab?

Seriously, I felt like I was going on a blind date. Shaky, woozy, all nerves. The shelter staff happily sent him on his way - they had all liked him and that’s why he’d lasted so long. Straight to the car like I was being pulled by a freight train but luckily he jumped right into a crate and settled down. I took him to my friend’s groom shop for a bath, cause man, did he smell. He was willing to get his front feet up in the tub, but chickened out with the back. I ended up hauling his entire self up and over the side, cause there was no way I was taking home that kind of stench. He was good, exceptionally so, leaving me wondering about where he had come from. He looked to be about a year and a half old, very masculine with just a touch of goofy puppy left.

I took Dyson home and of course all Josh could say was, “He’s huge!”. Yes, yes he is. Rules at my house are you get crated initially until I know whether or not you are housebroken so I put him in a crate in the dog room. He barked. And he barked. And he barked some more. I yelled at him, he barked. Ok, next plan. I turned on the TV and shut the door. We will ignore the barking until it stops. It finally did. Ahh, blessed silence. He’s given up. Smart guy. We had dinner, watched some TV, and I went in to check on him only to discover he’d pulled the door off the crate and was contentedly curled up on the couch. Not a thing disturbed. Well, I guess he’s housebroken, so out he came. Did I mention he was a smart guy?

This should have been my first clue of what life with Dyson would be like.

I took him Saturday to get neutered, and oddly was a complete basket case about dropping off the dog I barely knew. We got the call Sunday morning that he was fine, but overnight had developed a scrotal hematoma - think testicles removed and then the sack swelling to about two and a half times that size with fluid and blood. Poor, poor doggie. We go to pick him up, and they tell me I’ll need to first apply ice packs to his scrotum three times a day for three or four days, then put warm compresses on it and massage it for another week or so, still three to four times a day, until it returns to normal. I look at the dog, he looks at me, and we’re both thinking “Well, won’t THIS just be fun?!” I can’t stop giggling because this is all too absurd. They give me lots of nice doggie drugs to keep him quiet and off we go, into the sunset for our many days of scrotal massage. Next time you want a dog to really bond to you….

That first weekend, we started getting phone calls and applications from people interested in adopting Dyson. Of course, he’s fabulous. I put them all off with the “he’ll have to stay here until he is recovered from his neuter” story, but at night I cried. How could I give up my dog? They can’t have my dog! He’s mine! Keep in mind here I’ve had him like all of 72 hours and this attachment is totally bizarre. I’ve fostered plenty of dogs, have no trouble sending them to their new homes. Usually glad to see them move on in life.

I know I was irrational. I know that a fourth dog that was 97lbs in a condo where we were only allowed dogs under 30lbs was a bad, bad idea. I know that after Redwood died, the last thing I wanted was another lab, especially a smelly, droopy, boy lab that would forever pee on his legs!! But I just couldn’t let him go. I’m so grateful that I didn’t and that Josh was smart enough to say, let’s just keep him then.

Dyson came here to find a home and never left. He is my best bud, one of the coolest dogs I’ve ever known. He’s a great working dog, plays ball like a fiend, has been trained to detect contraband, go tracking, has tried dock diving and schutzhund, plays flyball, and accompanies me everywhere as my service dog. He’s opened up lots of opportunities for me, and his big, smelly, drooly self is EXACTLY what I needed.

Posted on September 18th, 2007 by michelle
Filed under: My dogs, The Naked Part