When a Dog Asks to be Adopted

You’ll never forget that one special dog who asked to be adopted.

Especially if you turned him down.

 

Happy is the dog with a home and master. If only every dog could have one.

Christmas is a very long season in the Philippines. As soon as the “-ber” months start (September) I start hearing Christmas songs on the radio (worse, at the malls!). That’s marketing gimmickry, of course, a reminder for shoppers to start piling up their gift stock.

 I watch the TV news regularly and they start a countdown to Christmas starting from 100 days away.

 Highlight of the season starts two weeks before Christmas Day. December 16 is the start of what they call Misa de Gallo. This is a novena series of 9 days, a lineup of 9 Masses said at dawn until December 24. Foreigners are surprised to find all Catholic churches in the Philippines nationwide packed to overflowing at those early morning Masses.

 These dawn Masses start the feeling of excitement upon the coming of the much-awaited Big Day. Amidst the glitter of twinkling Christmas lights small foodstalls surround the churches and it’s become a tradition for families to proceed to these stalls for the native cakes, hot chocolate, and other pre-breakfast treats after the Mass.

 I was at the local park when I saw the sign that there would be a Misa de Gallo there. It will be an open-air Mass, to be held in one of the gardens. This appealed to me since I will not be jostling with a crowd of churchgoers. I love that park in the early mornings. In 2007 when my dog school used to be there I would appear at the park every morning to see it come alive with activity.

Thus, that early morning of December 16, I arrived at the park to find it still lighted by street lamps because the sky was still black. The rays of the dawn had not yet appeared. I had awakened Spot to come with me because I looked forward to having a walk with him after the Mass at the crack of dawn, and enjoy a leisurely breakfast in one of the outdoor cafes with a newspaper and my dog beside me as I watch the joggers go by.

 At the garden, I noticed a young stray dog befriending the Mass goers as they arrived. Still of juvenile age, he wagged his tail when he saw Spot and invited him to play. I remembered the park rules during my time with the dog school and wondered why the dog had no collar or leash. But I commanded Spot to stay with me.

 The dog disappeared then re-appeared among the crowd, a charming guy and still very young. In the end, he elected to stay around Spot and me. Before the Mass was over the dog disappeared so I had my walk with Spot, had a leisurely breakfast afterwards, then I drove home.

 The next dawn morning as I arrived with Spot at the park, the dog was there again at the garden. We were a loose crowd of Mass goers so I elected to sit apart because I had Spot. But that stray chose to stay with me again.

 I could not forget that friendly fellow and wondered if anybody owned him. He was young, healthy and open to strangers. He was very adoptable. I even wondered if I could bring him home. Whenever he saw Spot and me, the dog would gravitate to us.

 After my third dawn Mass and breakfast, I headed to my SUV and packed Spot in the back. I was getting ready to put the gear in reverse when I saw the dog try to reach for me from the passenger side of my vehicle and whine. Was he trying to follow me? I stopped the engine and got out of the car intending to coax the dog to enter the SUV. I was resolved to bring him home.

 But the dog fled when he saw me approach him.

 That set my thoughts into action. The dog wanted to go home with me. I decided I will get him if he tries to do that again.

 Yet at the same time, my mind was in conflict. I had other dogs at home. How will they take this stranger? I remembered the ritual of introducing dogs to each other. I didn’t know enough about it because I’ve never done it. Theoretically, it would be best if I brought all the dogs to meet each other in a neutral place. What neutral place, I wondered. My dogs walk all over our neighborhood twice a day that they could stake as their territory several blocks of it. So where is that neutral territory? And who can I mobilize at home to help me  -- to haul off all our dogs to that neutral territory to meet the new member of their specie who wants to live with them?

 Regardless, on my fourth morning at the park, I had an extra leash with me. The friendly youngster was there again and I coaxed him to stay with Spot and me. He willingly obliged. After the Mass I had a short walk with Spot and the dog followed us off-leash. I chose a café where I could have breakfast and with Spot on my right side, I guided the dog to join me at my left outside a low railing. After we had all settled, I looped a leash around the dog’s neck. The dog accepted it.

 But my inner tumult arose. Though the dog wanted to be with me I didn’t know if I was ready for him. I kept remembering my other dogs at home and how I will have to set up this elaborate canine ritual of getting-to-know-you.

 By strange coincidence, I saw one of the park maintenance crew who still remembered me. I mentioned the stray dog that I kept seeing at the dawn Mass and pointed it to him. The man remarked that he knew the dog and that nobody owned him. He was just a stray that walked into the park from nowhere. I mentioned being not sure if I could bring him home. The man said he knew of another maintenance crew who would want him.

 Good, I said. Are you sure he will take care of this dog well?

 The man assured me the dog will be taken care of. He disappeared for awhile to look for some rope. A few minutes later, he returned with a length of straw which he looped around the dog. I slipped my leash off. When the man tugged at the rope to pull the dog away from me, the dog fought and protested. I had given him away.

 My conscience gnawed at me terribly as I saw that youngster hauled away against his will. After breakfast, I made one last attempt to find that maintenance man just to assuage my guilt pangs. A fellow worker pointed me to the old skating rink which was now walled off for renovations. I went there. I pushed the gate open and in the distance I saw the dog, tied to a rail, fighting his leash and protesting loudly at what had befallen him.

 I turned away quickly. I wish I had known what to do at that moment.

 

A happy Toby beside his caregiver. I adopted him from an abusive home.

I stopped going to the dawn Masses after that because the early morning chill had gotten to me and I got sick for several days. When I recovered, the Masses were no more. I never went back to the park. I never saw that dog again.

During my long talks with our local dog whisperer, Fred Alimusa, I once mentioned to him that dog that wanted to be adopted. Some 3 years had passed – and I still could not forget the incident. A dog had approached me asking me to adopt him.

But I had turned him down.

“I now know what to do if ever a dog — any dog — should come to me asking to be adopted,” I said. “Bring him home.”

Fred agreed and said he knew how I felt. He recalled a similar incident when he was still living in the United States. A German Shepherd had come to him while he was mowing the lawn. Busy with work, he could not be bothered. But that dog kept coming back to him every morning while he was fixing the garden. A week later, he realized what the German Shepherd was trying to say to him and decided the next time he sees that dog, he will take him in.   

That next time never came because the dog stopped coming. The city pound had caught him.

Seldom do we get approached by a homeless stray asking to be adopted. I realize now as a lost dog tries to survive the streets looking for a place to stay he sees countless humans everyday and qualifies who among them he would like to live with. If he’s chosen you, it’s because he knows you have that touch that can give him a forever home.

Don’t turn him down.

 

Happy is the dog with a master and caregiver. He grows up healthy, secure, and fulfilled.