I’m a bit late in honoring the anniversary of an incredible act by an incredible dog.

Backstory: As described in Lance: A Spirit Unbroken, Lance was a border collie that my wife Clara and I rescued. He had lived outside for over 10 years, at the mercy of bad people, inclement weather, and wild animals. He turned out to be semi-feral and untrustworthy around people, his rescuers included. He bit both Clara and me on the day he moved in with us. Subsequent sporadic attacks occurred, often without warning, until the day he died. Clara was the victim of the worst of Lance's attacks, and she has scars on her face, hand, and leg as reminders. I also personally witnessed Lance kill a woodchuck and a deer, both brutal events but ones I could not stop.

We employed a dog obedience trainer who was impressed with Lance’s rapid learning of basic commands. However, she was concerned about his threatening and lunging behavior. She referred us to a school for herding and obedience. The director rejected Lance’s “application” because she felt his wires had been irreparably crossed.

Lance wasn't an unintelligent dog—in fact, he was extremely bright and alert. He had simply lived outside too long and been assaulted too often, making him unsuitable for domesticity. At one point, we actively searched for someone or some organization more qualified to deal with him but even the Border Collie Rescue Association said that if they took Lance, most likely he would be euthanized.  That left it up to us to pull the switch ourselves and we couldn’t. We wound up living with Lance for the duration of his life. During that time one event in particular occurred that Clara and I still marvel at.

On February 7, 2006, in the early a.m., Clara and I were preparing to go to the airport and fly to Florida. We were planning to visit Clara's brother, Eddie, who had recently turned his life around after battling drug addiction for decades. We were minutes from leaving the house when Clara got a phone call from her sister-in-law Toni who was screaming, "Eddie's dead. He died from a heart attack. He's gone." Clara was instantly overcome with grief and, sobbing uncontrollably, threw herself into the recliner in our living room. I picked up the phone, not really knowing what to say in such a situation. At the same time, Lance rushed over to Clara, propped himself up with his front paws on her legs and began staring intently at her. Clara was now literally shuddering in tears. My immediate thought was that Lance was about to attack at the very worst possible time. Before I could even think how to prevent such a disaster, Lance leaned towards Clara and began washing away her tears. She burst out, "Look at what this dog is doing!" That’s all I could do, because the whole scene had frozen me in place and left me speechless. Both Clara and I both started crying harder, not only for the passing of Eddie but for this show of empathy by an animal, one who had himself been so brutally treated for over a decade.

They say dogs like the salt in our tears. But it's also safe to say that having lived outside all his life, Lance had never seen a human’s tears. Since salt is odorless, he would not have been attracted to its scent in Clara’s tears. I know what I saw and believe Lance sensed Clara was in deep pain and reacted as he saw fit.

How would you interpret Lance’s actions? Have you witnessed anything similar?

From the moment Heidi entered the Bed and Biscuit, she proved to be a hard-to-handle resident. Morgan, who operated the kennel with her mother, said Heidi was very frightened and standoffish. She would allow people to enter her room, but she wouldn’t leave it. Initially, she refused to eat. Approximately three days into her stay, I stopped by to give Heidi a walk. When I entered her room, she didn’t seem to recognize me. Then, when she did, she became very enthusiastic. Good! My dad is going to take me home! I took her outside and we went on a decent trek. When I brought her back into the Bed and Biscuit, I talked briefly with the staff. They didn’t have nice things to say about Heidi’s demeanor. Having seen Heidi in action, I understood where they were coming from. From behind the counter, Heidi was gesturing as if she wanted me to take her back home. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that, and I left the building, serenaded by Heidi’s desperate barking.

Shortly thereafter, Morgan’s mother devised a technique that got Heidi to voluntarily come out of her room. She left pieces of bacon in a trail that eventually stretched from Heidi’s bed to the doorway. Not only did Heidi come out of her room, she made it all the way up to the front desk. Over time she warmed up to Morgan, her sisters and their mother but never really got friendly with the rest of the staff. Per Morgan: “She remained standoffish with them, but she no longer was lunging or threatening them either.” Around that time, a dog arrived on the premises. This new dog in town changed everything.

Salem, a fellow Chiweenie, was a rags-to-riches story. He, the rest of his litter, and his still-nursing mom were left in a box outside a rescue operation in Alabama. The people at the rescue were impressed with Morgan’s credentials and the adoption was consummated. When Heidi and Salem were introduced to each other, in Morgan’s words, “Heidi immediately went into nonstop tail wagging. The two of them started playing and just running around the dog kennel until they wore each other out.” It wasn’t long before Morgan reported to us that Heidi appeared to be turning a corner had behaviorally. In Salem, Heidi had found a friend and mentor.
The idea of rehoming Heidi again became a serious topic of conversation between my wife  and me. Clara was still primarily immobile due to her surgery, and, because of my employment, there were significant amounts of time I was not at home. When I wasn’t in the house, my wife was concerned about not being able to get to the door in a timely fashion to let Heidi out if the dog had to relieve herself. I was concerned Heidi, a high-energy dog,  was not getting sufficient exercise. We were no longer suitable dog owners for Heidi or any other active dog for that matter. The scars were still healing from our first, nearly catastrophic rehoming of Heidi. We were determined not to make that type of mistake again . What was going on with Heidi in Morgan’s world had a much different feel to it. Morgan’s entire family and her significant other were all dog lovers . I’d seen her boarding kennel firsthand, and I was impressed. Perhaps most importantly Heidi had met a dog that knew how to bring out the best in her.

Continuing reports from Morgan indicated that Heidi’s change for the better was for real. What followed was a period of sharing Heidi’s company with Morgan. Morgan was in the process of moving from one house to another and she didn’t want to rehome Heidi twice. So, as Morgan gradually moved into her new  home,  we shared “joint custody” of Heidi for several months. Heidi would stay with us  and then with Morgan. Gradually, Heidi stayed at Morgan’s home for  increasing  periods of time.

Finally, after Morgan moved into her new home in June of 2022, we scheduled a day to bring Heidi to what would become her permanent residence. Talk about bittersweet! I knew we were doing right by Heidi but it’s never easy to relinquish a dog for any reason. To this day, Clara and I share our mixed feelings about the experience.

Clara and I drove to Morgan’s new home in Bushkill, PA. Upon entering, Heidi immediately made a happy beeline for Salem. Morgan gave us a brief tour of the house and then we went outside and sat down on folding chairs to chitchat. As I looked out on the horizon I spotted Morgan’s other three dogs, but Heidi was nowhere in sight. For some reason, I decided to look under my chair and there sat Heidi looking out on the world. If I had to translate a dog’s body language it was as if she was saying I just want you all to know that this is my pal sitting above me. That was a very touching moment that only a dog lover could appreciate. However, speaking of body language, later, when we were at the door getting ready to leave, Heidi sat down next to Morgan. This time the body language told another story.. This is where I really would prefer to live. Only a dog lover could understand the jumbled emotions Clara and I shared in that moment.

We stopped by Morgan’s house again in September to pay Heidi a visit. She greeted us with gusto but, once again, when we were getting ready to leave, made it clear she had found  what she hoped was her permanent home. In December of 2022, we visited with a small gift for Heidi’s new owners. Heidi was clearly thriving in her new home.

Since taking ownership of Heidi, Morgan has been kind enough to send us multiple photos of Heidi alone and with her new pack. Though every once in a while I question whether my wife and I did the right thing, it really has become a no-brainer. My health deteriorated significantly in 2023. I have been forced to use a walker since April and I would not be able to walk Heidi much farther than to the end of my driveway. I feel sufficient exercise is critical for a dog’s happiness and well-being and I’d be a fool to think I could provide that for any active dog at this point. Heidi  was always ready to roll at a moment’s notice.

As of the date of this post, Morgan reports that Heidi gets along well with the six dogs she sees on a regular basis. Two of those dogs got into a dust-up recently and Heidi sat on the sidelines. As for dogs she isn’t familiar with? Only time will tell. She’s still standoffish with people, especially males. A combination of leashing, the stranger providing her treats, and patience has worked several times. Clara and I tried a similar strategy  with little success. Maybe we were the wrong trainers, or maybe we utilized the wrong strangers:).

There are times in life when a loss makes no sense. There are other times, as in Heidi’s case,  where a searching of the soul finds a silver lining. Though we thought back in 2020 we were adopting/ rescuing Heidi,  we turned out to essentially be foster parents. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, job well done. As proof, I present the following photos shown below:

It took a dog from Alabama to do what neither my wife, I nor an excellent canine obedience school could. And, he brought about Heidi’s metamorphosis in record time. My hat’s off to Salem.

Sometimes, you just have to wing it when writing a blog post:
First, in a bit of shameless self-promotion, here's the cover of what will be a young reader's book about dog rescue. I admit the image would look better if the back cover had a blurb. That's the fault of yours truly. Simply haven't come up with something catchy enough yet. If you have some ideas, please let me know. The story is loosely based on Lance's story but as seen from the eyes of a ten-year-old. Those who have read Lance: A Spirit Unbroken will recognize that Jimmy gets into some of the same predicaments with Lance  that the author did years earlier. My purpose in writing Jimmy, Lance and a Second Chance is to give younger readers  a child and a dog to root for.
         
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Here's something I found on the Internet. There's a some truth sewn into the humor:

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Last but not least, here's a photo a lady was kind enough to send me. It shows her husband engrossed (naturally!) in reading Lance's book, while his dogs are engrossed elsewhere. P.S. I'll get back to Heidi next post.

Following our ill-advised attempt at re-homing Heidi, Clara and I did our best to adapt to our dog’s at times nerve-wracking presence. I took Heidi for two walks daily (she reminded me if I was behind schedule for either of them). Using the training sheets from Sit, Stay ‘n Play, I refined the basic commands with Heidi. One thing didn’t change: Heidi remained unfriendly to all other living creatures except for Clara and me.

One morning, following a walk, I inadvertently left the fence gate open. I didn’t realize I had until I heard Heidi barking at the top of her lungs off in the distance. When I hustled out onto the street, I saw her lunging at a neighbor’s dog, one that was leashed and being walked by his owner. After a few scary moments, I was able to corral my dog by the collar. I apologized profusely to my distraught neighbor and sheepishly walked my dog back to our property. Shades of living with Lance. ☹😊Clara was still sleeping so I spared her the details.

In December of 2021, Clara underwent knee surgery. She had only been discharged a few days when she began feeling extremely ill. EMT transported her to the hospital. I drove to the ER to see how she was doing, not feeling so great myself. When I got there, I found Clara had been diagnosed with COVID and admitted to the hospital. I was also diagnosed with Covid (moral of the story: never go to the ER, even as a visitor!). I was given a series of shots and discharged from the ER. An ER Doctor told me, “We are overwhelmed. If you have COVID but you’re walking and talking, you get to go home.”
I was released but I felt like death warmed over. Heidi didn’t get her second walk that day.

The following morning, Heidi pestered me for her morning walk. I dragged myself out of bed, hooked her up and outside we went. I literally staggered like a drunk down the street. Our walk was cut short, and I spent the rest of the day convalescing. The following day I felt quite a bit better and the day after that it was as if nothing had ever happened. Clara was not so lucky. She had been admitted to the hospital on a Wednesday and came home that Saturday. The aftermath of her knee surgery combined with the lingering effects of Covid was so severe that, for all intents and purposes, Clara was totally disabled. She spent the remainder of December, all of January, and the early part of February stuck in her recliner, experiencing physical pain in a way she never had before. She was too weak to rehab her knee, which greatly complicated matters. Only later did we find out that she was also dealing with the scourge of what came to be called Long Covid.

We faced a dilemma. I could take care of things when I was at home, but I had two part time jobs. During the hours I was outside the house, Clara was unable to get to the door to let Heidi out to do her business. She also wasn’t able to feed our dog. Heidi, an active dog, was also being deprived of exercise. We couldn’t let Clara’s daughter—or anyone else, for that matter—into the house because Heidi wouldn’t allow anyone—apart from that single time with Dave and Mario—to enter.

I called off from work several days in succession in order to deal with things at home. Clara and I both realized that was a temporary solution to a long term problem. One of my employers let me know she wasn’t happy with my continual absence from work, letting me know my job was in jeopardy.We were faced with the distasteful possibility of having to surrender Heidi to a shelter.

A neighbor suggested that, while Clara was convalescing, we try boarding Heidi at the Pocono Bed and Biscuits Dog Hotel in Stroudsburg, PA. I checked and found this enterprise had excellent reviews.  I made a call and set Heidi up to be checked in the following day. Per my calculations, my salary would just about cover the cost of boarding Heidi while I was at work. The things you do for a dog.

The next day, while I was at work, Florence, the lady who had recommended the doggie hotel, came to our house to retrieve Heidi. Despite being fearful she’d get bitten, Florence bent down, picked Heidi up and carried her out to the car. Her daughter Alexis, previously threatened by Heidi, held Heidi in her lap while Florence drove. The entire drive went without a hitch—or bite. For the second time in her life, Heidi had been docile with strangers. Inexplicable, at least to me.

Upon arrival, our dog was turned over to the Bed and Biscuits staff. Though it was costing us financially, both Clara and I took comfort in knowing we had left Heidi in better hands than Dave’s ( see A Tale of Two Re-homings Part Three).

We signed Heidi up for a week’s stay. That gave both Clara and me a week’s reprieve to rest up and brace ourselves for Heidi’s return. We had found a solution, albeit a costly one. Unfortunately, it was not a permanent solution—or was it?