Puppy Goes Zoom

Dogs, cats, randomness–my adventures in pet ownership and fostering

Golden Shar-Pittie

It sort of got lost in the excitement of Reba getting adopted, but we got genetic tests done on Diamond and she is apparently about equal parts Chinese Shar-Pei, Golden Retriever, and American Staffordshre Terrier. The other quarter is random mutt. I’ve decided that makes her a Golden Shar-Pittie.

Matt and I laughed our heads off at the “Golden Retriever” bit. In the time we’ve had her, Diamond has fetched a ball exactly once, from a distance of about two feet. When I threw the ball again, she looked at the ball, looked at me as if to say, “Guess you didn’t want it, then,” and wandered off. And goldens are people dogs. Diamond is so very much not a people dog. She’s okay with people she’s gotten to know, or new people in small doses (particularly if they have treats),

I find it amusing that she actually does have “pit bull” in her, since the whole reason I started reading up on pit bulls and got into fostering with a rescue group that works largely with pit bulls was that a lot of people thought she looked like a pit mix of some sort. We had expected her to be more shar-pei than anything else, though.

Of course, all of this assumes that the results of a genetic test are valid, and a lot of things I’ve read suggest that the science is not exactly rock-solid yet. But it’s a better answer to “What kind of dog is that?” than a complete guess.


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Plague! Run away!

I’ve temporarily pulled “Ruffly Speaking” off my blogroll. This isn’t because I no longer think Joanna is awesome, but because she’s having issues with malware and I don’t want to send anyone to her site to pick up something nasty. She’s got everything locked down six ways from Sunday and is doing what she can to fix it, so I’m hoping it will be corrected soon. (So I can get my corgi fix. Not a breed I should ever own, but my gosh are they cute and fun!)

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Not Actually the Hardest Part

So, Reba got adopted! Her new family has three kids, a pittie puppy (who Reba gets along very well with), and a big fenced yard. She has a neighborhood full of kids to wag at and be adored by, and a little boy who loves dogs to tire her out. It’s pretty much everything she could want. Wait, no, they’re probably not going to give her a pound of bacon every day and let her chase the cat. It’s *almost* everything she could want.

And I miss her. Kind of a lot. We were starting to despair that she’d ever be adopted, and she was starting to feel more and more like “our” dog, and like if we ended up keeping her forever, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. And, so, of course, once I started thinking, “Yeah, I could keep this dog forever, that’d be okay,” she got adopted. Apparently that’s how it goes.

The upside is that Diamond seems much happier by herself. It’s odd, because she and Reba had gotten to a point where they liked each other and Reba wasn’t getting on Diamond’s nerves (much). Diamond definitely looked for her at daycare and other places, and Reba had this “protective big sister” vibe toward Diamond. But she’s been a lot bouncier since Reba left. Could be that she’s more relaxed now. (Diamond’s not a fan of chaos and Reba is a *fount* of chaos.) Could be that she was toning down her own play to avoid ramping Reba up more than she wanted to deal with.

We will definitely foster again. I’m thinking of giving it a couple more weeks, just to be certain that Reba’s settled in well in her new home. I’m also thinking an older dog would be more Diamond’s speed. Wouldn’t have to be a senior dog, although that would be fine, but a dog who’s five or so. You know, an actual adult dog, rather than a 1-2 year-old, which seems to be a puppy in an adult’s body.

I’ve heard people say that giving up a dog you’ve gotten attached to is the hardest part of fostering, but I’m thinking that’s not true. Taking a dog back after the adoption didn’t work out was harder. I can think of lots of things that would be worse and more difficult than having a dog go off to a loving home (taking a little piece of your heart with them). Really, I should probably *stop* trying to think of all the things that could be worse, like finding out the “sanctuary” you sent an animal to was a scam, or the adopters who sounded so good on paper abused or abandoned a dog. Volunteering at a shelter, with dogs who you know are going to die, is probably way worse. (And yes, I’m planning on doing that after I get some other commitments knocked out. Because, well, because.)

Anyway, much as I miss Reba, I am very happy for her. It sounds like she is loved, which she more than deserves. And we get to eventually help another dog, which is an awesome thing.

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