When I packed up for my first year of college, I left two adorable and brilliant Aussies at home (Moose and Sadie, oh how I miss you guys) and had felt the absence of a puppy at my feet every day since. So! For me, buying a home was 50% about home ownership and 50% about dog ownership. When our offer was accepted, I went straight into dog-adoption mode. My search was a little premature – I started making phone calls to rescue organizations well before our closing date. People were very accommodating until I mentioned my circumstance… I was moving into a new place in 5 weeks or so, and could I bring the dog home then?
The answer was no. These pups needed homes NOW and I wasn’t in a position to bring a dog home until we moved into the new place. Call after call, I had been forced to eliminate most of the dogs on my short list, except for one. “Non” (pronounced Noan), a 2 year old female Shiba Inu mixed breed who had been rescued from the streets of Okinawa and brought to New Hampshire, was looking for a home with an experienced dog person. She had a lot of fear and trust issues, but had a sweet spirit and was, for a dog, exceptionally pretty. Her picture reminded me of my first dog, Juno, so I emailed the point of contact on the listing. It took three weeks for them to get back to me … apparently, the email recipient was on a tour of Europe when I emailed her, so my email fell upon a silent inbox. But for some reason, I decided I would follow up with “Non”. There was a home visit, which we passed (no doggie torture apparatus in the house – we are fit parents, yay!). Then we got a chance to visit the dog at the kennel facility where she was living since her arrival from Okinawa. When we arrived, the facilitator cautioned us that they would bring her in with another dog, because she was really far too shy to be around new people alone. We were handed baggies of turkey hot dog pieces and told to use them liberally (read: this is when we began to buy her love with food).
“Non” came into the room, desperately scanning the four walls for the exit. Emergency! Emergency! No exit in sight! Her body language was painfully obvious – she was scared. The other dog, whom we were not interviewing for our family, ran right over and demanded hot dogs. Eventually, we were able to get close enough to “Non” to toss her some hot dog pieces, which she quickly scarfed, never letting us out of her sight for fear an attack was imminent.
My husband wasn’t so sure … he was a dog owning novice, and expected more from a pet than the wild-eyed fear he saw in “Non”. I saw her spirit, though, and I thought I could help her get over her fears.
“We’ll take her!”
And so, 16 months after we'd gotten married, 15 months after we'd moved to MA, 3 weeks after our closing date on the condo, and 1 week after the turkey-hot-dog-interview, “Non” came to live with us. We renamed her Nellie, since her Japanese name meant nothing to her (she was a 2-year old stray who had never truly had a name, or a family for that matter). It wasn’t easy at first. Her trust was purchased with swiss cheese and turkey and bacon and gravy. Her love was earned with time and patience.
After one week, she wagged her tail at me (VICTORY IS MINE!!).
After one month, she let me pet her and scratch behind her ears.
After three months, she was clicker trained and would joyfully sit or lay down upon request.
After six months, she was trained on recall and was trustworthy off the leash at the dog park.
After one year, she was beginning to trust newer people, like my mom, my friends from work, and the guy at our favorite BBQ place (hey, he smells like brisket, how bad can he be?).
The (ongoing) experience of rehabilitating her has been amazing, and I think I've learned just as much from her as she's learned from me.
Years later, I can safely say I’m her person and she’s my dog.
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