Did I mention I was adopting a dog?
What I really meant was renting.
I’d been warned that some of the rescues are… optimistic about the dog’s temperament, and this (nameless) rescue did just that.
It all started out so well. The foster person brought the dog over and we sat and chatted while the dog explored. The dog seemed friendly – tail wagging and everything. While said dog was wandering around my apartment sniffing everything, the foster person said she was going to sneak out since everything seemed to be going well.
And everything did, until the dog realized that she was in a strange place with a strange person. She was sitting next to me chewing on some bit of animal carcass, and then she jumped away and bit me.
Not snapped. Bit. Hard.
Lucky for me I pulled my hand away and only got grazed, but the dog started growling, snapping and baring her teeth.
Look, I get being scared with a new person, but I didn’t sign up to adopt a miniature hell-hound.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t enjoy being bitten. Or potentially sued.
“Oh, what a cute little.. OUCH!!!! I’m calling my lawyer!”
I’ve had enough experience with trying to get cats into carriers that I know the oven mitt trick – you sneak up behind the animal (WAY easier with dogs, BTW), grab them with the oven mitts and then deposit. In this case, a roomy crate that the dog was happy to enter.
I draped towels over the crate to make her feel more secure, and then decided to sleep on it instead of calling the foster person and telling her to turn around and come get the fucking dog.
In the morning, I lifted up the towel to check the dog’s food and water and she bared her teeth and snapped.
That was it.
I called the rescue and told them to come and remove the beast.
They sent the same foster person back to get the dog, and upon arrival, she blamed me for getting bitten. Apparently, it was all my fault because I put the dog in the crate.
When I mentioned that the dog bit me before I put her in the crate, she just turned her back and told me that they were going to have to board the dog at a vet where they’d keep the dog in a very small cage and force her to listen to Justin Bieber. Or something. At that point, I just wanted the dog and the crazy lady out of my place.
Oh, and don’t even ask how I found out the dog wasn’t potty trained.
Cat people have a reputation as being crazy, but I have to say my experience with a dog rescue makes me think that dog people take the crazy cake. And the candles.
Since it’s Friday, here’s a photo of a calm blue ocean: