(This blog post is a
joint effort between Mr. Cush and myself … he’s a crucial part of Riley’s
story, and it’d be regrettable if he couldn’t tell his side. Everything in
black font is mine … anything in blue is his
[and his edits are in strikethrough].)
In April 2012, Mr. Cush and I found ourselves in the market
for a dog. Our beloved labradoodle, Maggie Doodle, had passed away following
surgery to remove a blockage. (The Doodle always had a penchant for socks and
undergarments.) When we found out that Maggie wouldn't be returning home and
Mr. Cush started walking around the house picking up the toys that she would
never play with again, I broke down into tears and told him to stop … those
toys needed to be left out for a new dog to enjoy.
That's how we ended up on Craigslist on the evening of Good
Friday. We decided that we were too busy for a brand new puppy (ain't nobody
got time to potty train again), and it would be best if we could rescue a pet
that was maybe already a year old, spayed and house trained.
So we had a wish list in mind as we scoured Craigslist and
various adoption and rescue sites in the Austin area … female (Mr. Cush has a
thing for female pooches) (I just prefer to not have to see/deal with a male dog’s man parts - mostly his 'lipstick'), around a year old, medium-sized, plays well with cats
(we have two of them, too). We stumbled upon an ad that matched our wish list …
we pretty much fell in love with Riley (Jasmine, as she was known to the rescue
group) based on her description and picture. eHarmony.com couldn't have made a
better connection if they tried.
Riley, the Craigslist puppy. We think she's part Basenji (what the hell is that? click here), maybe part chow and lab, and probably a lot dingo ... so keep your babies away from her.
Mr. Cush picked me up on his way home and we headed to the
home of my hairstylist/dog fosterer. I could not have been more excited … I
truly thought there was a moment or two where Mr. Cush was going to pull over
the car and give me a tranquilizer. I carried that same excitement into my
meeting with Riley, and as I reached out to pet the puppy for the first time,
she snarled, backed away and peed in a corner.
I was
pretty disappointed at first because of that.
I was still in deep sorrow from the loss of Maggie and I really wanted
Riley to be a happy and playful pup, filling in the void that Maggie had left.
That's when we realized we had fallen in love with just met
a special needs puppy.
We joined the puppy fosterers on a ride to a local dog play
park and spent some time with Riley in her comfort zone of other puppies and a
home she was familiar with. After a few hours, Mr. Cush decided we should take
her home for a night and see how things progressed. She willingly jumped in our
car, and we were a happy family of three for the 20-minute drive home. It's
when we got into our driveway that the real problems began …
Mr. Cush and I spent about 30 minutes trying to coax the
growling fur beast out of his backseat … she snarled and growled at us, and we
couldn't even get close enough to grab her collar and try to gently nudge her
out. I think she eventually grew tired of the heat in the car and she jumped
out on her own and made a run inside our house for cool air … where she
immediately backed herself into a corner of our kitchen. We sat on the floor
and held food in our hands, hoping she would stop growling, maybe approach us
and give us a few good sniffs. In her eyes, we were simply evil demons with
bacon, which is
contradictory because the possession of bacon makes one an angel.
After an hour of this, I gave up and went upstairs to our
bedroom, resigning myself to the fact that this simply wasn't going to work
out. Just as I fired up my computer to start looking for a new puppy, Mr. Cush
and Riley came bounding up the stairs together, and Riley jumped up on the bed
next to me. Apparently Mr. Cush had discovered her 'magic leash' (we used our own
retractable leash when we left the foster home, but they gave us her leash
also) … as soon as he reached for it off the kitchen counter to put
it away in our dog toy basket, Riley warmed up to him and became a different
dog. It must have sparked some memories of her last family, and it was like an
instant transformation with her.
From what we were told, Riley was rescued out of the foster
group when she was about eight weeks old. She went home with what should've
been her forever family - a family with two or three children - but after a few
months they returned her to the rescue organization because she was scaring the
kids' friends when they would come over. She's an overly protective canine,
apparently. (Some people speculate she was abused at some point in her life,
but I've never bought that theory - she doesn't display typical symptoms of
past abuse.) (She shows no signs of flinching when playing with her or petting her and no
marks/scars).
For the first week, it was like the movie 50 First Dates
with Riley. Every morning when we'd wake up, she'd growl at first, and then
realize who we were. “GRRRRrrrrrr, oh it’s
just you guys. I guess you may remain on
my king-size bed with me.”
She still has some major issues … not a single trip to the
park goes by where she doesn't growl at the neighbors. (Not really true. I’ve walked her many times
without a growl). Not a single visit to the vet goes by where she
doesn't have to wear the Hannibal Lecter muzzle because she's scaring away the
vet techs (She
didn’t wear a muzzle last time because I discovered that if only one vet/tech
is in the room, Riley is totally fine). Not a single visitor can
come to our home where she doesn't growl at them for the duration of their
visit. (FWIW, she has never once bit or attacked a person, she chooses instead
to growl and appear intimidating.) For whatever reason, I'm ok with all of this
because as I get older, I, too, have trust issues with most new people I meet.
I can relate.
After a year and a half with her, we're a happy little family.
She's an amazing, loyal dog with an adorable, lazy left ear that is constantly
folded halfway down, and without a doubt she's my bestest (beastest?) friend in the world
(sorry, Mr. Cush). I couldn't ask for a better dog that is constantly by my side
when I'm home. I feel like not enough of Riley’s positive
traits were addressed. She has not
chewed/destroyed anything that was not a rawhide bone, she barks only once in a
blue moon, and she loves to cuddle, even if there is no room for her where you
are sitting.
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