Mr. Goodbar Adopts Us Before we Adopted Him

The last dog I fostered was so weak, so little, so waif-like, my heart poured forth and I think I probably knew the emotion first-time mom’s have; I’m needed.  Happy to report Layla is now doing quite well with her new foster mom who is taking longer term care of that precious little angel.  So if one dog was easy to foster, another will be easy too, right?  Meet Ferdinand.

Some may know Ferdinand as Mr. Goodbar, that lovable American Pit Bull Terrier Mix from the third row that was incredibly kind, sweet, loving, gentle, and full of ‘I just want to be loved’ eyes that everyone fell in love with.  Returning him to the kennel broke our hearts each and every time.  Knowing I couldn’t keep volunteering or working at the shelter because real life called me back to my career I wanted to foster again.  Mr. Goodbar seemed the logical choice because a) he was a long-timer and needed to get out, b) he’s a Pit Bull Mix which makes him harder to adopt, c) my dog seemed ok with him, and d) he told me to bring him home. 

I’m not a DogTalker, but I’d say that’s pretty much how it happened, his eyes met mine he called me ‘Momma’ and that was it.  So as of that Sunday we started fostering Mr. Goodbar.  Several of my Volunteer Friends (other volunteers who have become friends, not people who think I’m a charitable cause) know and love this little dog and applauded me immediately as I made their guilt a little less that this little guy was not in a kennel one more night of his life.  Bringing him into our home was the first chapter in a thus far amazing story.

As you may expect the first day went cautiously both for Mr. Goodbar and for us and Denali, our Lab.  Mr. Goodbar wasn’t sure of the territory, wanted to explore everything, but was overly cautious and respectful to the point we had to prod him through doorways, to eat some food, to go outside where all the other dogs go.  It reminded me of a made for TV movie from my youth when a family of missionaries bring home a young Asian girl who was wholly unfamiliar with modern conveniences.  However, in that movie the young girl preferred to use the bathroom outdoors as she was intimidated by the violent flushing of a toilet.  Mr. Goodbar, well, he wasn’t so hesitant to relieve himself inside.

He is a boy-dog, so we knew some ‘marking’ is part of his nature.  We kept him on a leash inside the house so he couldn’t wander around and mark at will.  And that worked rather well until we thought he as comfortable, and we dropped the leash to allow him to simply follow us around, and we discovered Mr. Goodbar can hike and mark much faster than we can turn and say “Whatchyou talkin’ bout Willis?!”

First it was the kitchen peninsula, seemed natural I guess since it was prime territory to mark.  Then it was the partial wall which separates the office from the hallway, then Mike’s guitar case which (admittedly) is propped enticingly near that office wall.  Then it was both legs of our bed, and unfortunately the down comforter that hangs over those corners – but luckily not the mattress itself.  Then came defacation – also lightning fast – on the dining room carpet (2x), the living room carpet, the bedroom carpet, and the guest bathroom.  Obviously, Mr. Goodbar had forgotten his housetraining and we’d forgotten what it was like with a dog who doesn’t know to scratch at the door when they need a break like our Denali does quite like clockwork.

Now, Mike and I have set our internal clocks to take Mr. Goodbar out every time we ask “When was he out last?” If we can’t say it was an hour or two ago then we assume it’s been longer and we take him out them.  We’re working on a longer schedule, but for right now we’re up to about four hours in between potty breaks, not including nights when he pretty much sleeps throughout.

Sleeping is a whole new experience as well, although I’d be amiss to say it did anything less than totally and entirely endear Mr. Goodbar to us.  The first night we brought him into the room and had him on a leash.  When I said ‘Go to bed’ and pointed to the dog bed, he obediently crawled onto the center of the massive cushion and just looked up at me with sad but submissive eyes.  Denali took her usual position at the foot and middle of our king size bed, and Mike and I took our sides.  When we turned out the lights I heard the smallest sound from Mr. Goodbar’s collar, a slight jingle of the city license and as my eyes were still adjusting to the dark a soft but decided plop of fur was beside me, in the middle, and cautiously but ever so cutely laying his little head down, eyes gazing upward with a small but pronounced reflection of light.  He was looking for approval, perhaps looking out for a swat, but telling me he wanted to be with us, near us, and sleep in the bed with the rest of the pack.  Mike and I chuckled and figured it was inevitable and maybe even a good sign he wanted to be this close to us this soon.  Then as Mr. Goodbar rolled into my side to lay heart to heart, I knew at that moment fostering may not work for us after all, we just may have to adopt this little guy who appeared to adopt us already.