Tag Archives: Giving her up

How Can I Give Up My Dog? part 2

Posted on by
16

Note: If you haven’t already, read part 1 of this post here.

Taking Seva to training classes at Helping Paws each week has been a big part of my life for over 2 years. Besides classes at the training center, we train in public several times a week. While it would be an exaggeration to say Seva has been my constant companion, I do work from home and take her places, so we see a lot of each other.

A few weeks ago, Seva spent the weekend with S., a woman in need of a successor dog who used to be a vet tech.

I spent the weekend convinced S. was falling in love with Seva. How could she not?

I’ve gone on vacation and left Seva with other Helping Paws families. It’s a nice break, like when the kids have a sleepover and you get to go out or stay in, grown-up style. This weekend was different.

I must have told myself 50 times that S. would say “yes” to Seva, and I would soon be saying “good bye” to her.

Waiting for life-changing news is never easy. (Sure, on the spectrum of life-changing news, learning whether or not I’ll get to keep a dog is relatively low, not like getting test results from a doctor. I do have perspective, but this is a blog about the Wonder Dog so bear with me.) The thing is, most news you wait for is one of two things: good or bad. Whichever way Seva’s weekend with S. went, I would be torn.

I want her. I’ll miss her. I would never stand in her way. I love her. I don’t need her. She should be with someone who needs her. S. will love her as much as I do. What if Seva misses me? I might never see her again.

And around and around I went.

When I picked up Seva from Helping Paws, I let her out of a crate and she leapt on me, all tongue and paws and uncontained joy. She’s a kisser. Always has been. The moment she was first placed in my arms, I looked down and she lifted her chin and licked my face. She was barely 8 weeks old.

 

  • A tired puppy.

 

Turns out, S. didn’t love her.

Seva had done well during the pre-matching, but didn’t want to retrieve for S. at her house. And she was a little bit naughty. Seva found some duct tape serving a purpose she couldn’t see, so she gnawed at it till she got a corner lifted and pulled it off.

She does have a naughty streak. Her new thing is to bound over while I’m working at my desk and stare me down. If I tell her to go away, she runs off and finds something to shred, like a piece of mail. My next move is to leash her to furniture. Hers is to whine. It’s a dreadful, high-pitched sound. My final move is to capitulate. We take a walk.

Besides not retrieving, some barking, and tearing of duct tape, S. reported that Seva’s allergies are bad.

Bad as in pull-her-from-the-program bad.

I heard this from one of the trainers when I picked up Seva, so it was almost official, but not quite. E. has the final say. I went to the following Big Dog class as though everything was normal, except it wasn’t.

We went to Centennial Lakes in Edina. As I walked Seva around the lake, I started thinking, this is it. Toward the end of class, I had Seva in a Drop-Stay on the sidewalk and E. came over to talk.

E. told me they couldn’t place Seva due to her allergies, and I almost cried. I admit, that’s kind of weird. I knew it was coming and had been thinking about it for 2 days. Still, when you hear it from E., it’s final. It felt like the closing of a door.

All those great reasons I had for getting into the program, all the effort put into training this dog, the classes and field trips and other training teams…done.

We agreed that I’d go on the next couple of field trips as though nothing had happened, giving E. time to make an announcement to the class. We also agreed the news could go public after the Foster Family Recognition Ice Cream Social.

 

The Big Dogs at Union Depot--our last class.

The Big Dogs at Union Depot–our last class.

 

Last night, Seva and I made our final visit to Helping Paws as a training team. I received a certificate for the work we’ve done, and E. announced that Seva is having a career change.

That’s what it’s called, a career change. I’ve heard that only about 60% of dogs graduate. Problems with the training, personality, health, even odd quirks like a phobia of stairs can prevent a dog from graduating. Seva actually had 3 strikes against her: her hip sockets are only “fair,” she’s an indiscriminate eater, and she has allergies. The hip sockets concern is minor compared to the others. She is getting better about eating everything in sight, and I don’t expect this to be a problem for long. It’s the allergies that determined her fate–and mine.

 

Recognizing Seva's Career Change

Recognizing Seva’s Career Change

 

Seva is now my dog.

What’s more, we’re going to be a demo team for Helping Paws. That means she keeps the blue pack and we will answer calls to show the world what a service dog can do for a person. In a year or two, when she’s mellowed even more, I’ll probably look into a therapy dog program as well.

 

I’M SO GRATEFUL TO E. AND S. FOR GIVING IT A GO.

IT MEANS THAT SEVA’S DESTINY WAS OUT OF MY HANDS.

AND NOW HER FUTURE IS IN THEM.

 

 

How Can I Give Up My Dog?

Posted on by
4

The number one question I’ve been asked since the beginning is, how can I give up my dog? Everyone wonders about the bond formed between trainer and dog and what happens when your time together comes to an end.

Seva is almost 2 1/2 years old. That means she’s in the Big Dog class at Helping Paws. We’ve already seen 2 groups of dogs go through placement and leave their trainers and fellow service dogs-in-training to begin their lives as full-fledged service dogs. The process is best described as bittersweet–even if that is a cliche. We’re so happy a dog has been placed with a person who has a real need, and we’re sad to see the dog leave our ranks. Our dogs form friendships in and out of class. Many of the trainers get to know each other. Dog class is no longer on that person’s weekly agenda. It’s kind of like becoming an empty nester, only your kid at college will probably call home once in a while. The dogs never call and they never write.

I’ve thought about that question more as Seva has aged. My public answer is always that I went into the program knowing I’d have to give her up. That is the why behind the last 2 1/2 years. I became a foster home and trainer for Helping Paws, because I wanted to help change somebody’s life in a meaningful way.

In fact, Scott and I had more than one conversation about how significant this would be. I mean, you can donate time or money to good causes, but how often do you make an investment this significant in terms of personal commitment? And we mused about the magnitude of the impact this dog would have on someone’s life: greater independence, greater social connections, constant companionship. It might sound like we were getting full of ourselves, but really we were weighing the value of this decision. It was a big one. We had to consider the impact a puppy would have on our lives, including our kids’, and what it would mean for all 5 of us to give up the dog one day.

 

 

My first time holding the Bear.

My first time holding the Bear.

 

My private answer is more complicated than “It’s what I signed up to do.”

We have all bonded with Seva to different degrees. I, naturally, am most bonded to her. I spend most of my waking hours in her presence (I work from home). I am her mama. Scott and I have a joke that Seva thinks he’s her littermate. I am the clear alpha, but during Seva’s adolescence her play with Scott looked like vying for beta!

Play time!

Play time!

Now the time is approaching, and I am asking myself, “How can I give up my dog?”

This is surprisingly complex. I love her like any pet I’ve ever had. And I know she doesn’t belong to me. I realize that while I have allowed myself to love this dog, I have not allowed myself to imagine her in my future beyond a certain point. It’s like there was a countdown timer on our relationship.

Seva has a destiny. She was born into this breeding program to bring her special Retriever gifts to a special person. I’m just an intermediary. I would never stand in the way of her destiny, which is why I haven’t let myself imagine her as mine.

A few weeks ago, E., the Director of Helping Paws, talked to me about Seva’s allergies. We’ve been watching them for a while. E. said she’d be sad to lose Seva, because she’s got some good skills and is a nice dog. The “but…” was implied. Nothing was decided that night.

I went home with that “but…” resounding in my mind. I thought Seva was about to be pulled from the program, which often means ownership of the dog is transferred to the trainer. I spent the next week imagining Seva in my future. I was careful to remind myself that nothing had actually changed, yet I couldn’t help picturing us on long walks, throwing balls in the park, and having cuddles in front of the fireplace.

After class the following week, E. took me aside again. She was going to tell me Seva was out of the program. I was going to leave the training center as Seva’s permanent mama.

E. asked me to bring Seva in for pre-matching. Pre-matching is when a dog meets applicants to see if the dogs will work with them.

Suddenly, my expectations were reversed. Again. I spent the weekend a little heart broken. And I blamed myself. I never should have started imagining her as my own dog. After a few days of mental gymnastics, I decided that Seva was again on her way to fulfilling her destiny and that after she graduated, I would get a cat. Cats don’t require long walks and love to cuddle by the fire. All would be well, and not only for me and Seva.

 

IMG_1865

The happiest dog.

 

Seva did really well for both people she auditioned. Or did they audition her? It’s like speed dating, but instead of impressing your date with wit and charm, you pick things up off the floor and turn on the lights.

I was glad she did well. I also had the blues that night.

The following weekend, Seva went to visit S., one of her dates at pre-matching. She spent 3 days with S. and her cats. This trial run isn’t normal, but S. used to be a vet tech and needs a successor dog, so she knows the program.

I spent the weekend convinced S. was falling in love with Seva.

How could she not?

 

(To be continued.)