Happy Anniversary, Kathleen Frances “Hoover” The Brave

It all started with the question, “Do you want to foster a fearful puppy?”

The short answer should have been “No,” because a.) Puppies are a lot of work, b.) Fearful puppies are even more work and c.) with my children and husband away for three weeks, I was looking forward to a quiet house with just my animals for company.

Instead, I asked for more information.

Five month old Jolly (yes, a wildly inappropriate name, or maybe just wishful thinking) had been brought to our shelter as part of a transport of puppies from the south. She went right into foster with a very experienced senior volunteer, whom I met several weeks later while walking dogs at the shelter. The volunteer was understandably concerned, because Jolly wouldn’t leave the back of her crate until the wee hours of the morning, when the house was silent and the family was asleep. Despite being on behavioral medications, Jolly’s severe fear wasn’t abating, and the volunteer thought that a quiet house with another dog for companionship might help Jolly out of her shell.

The good news was that Willie, my big, goofy Rottweiler boy, was a good candidate to foster a puppy. We lost our first fearful dog, Gracie, eighteen months earlier, and Willie missed the companionship of another dog in the house. I had accrued a lot of “fearful dog experience” because of Gracie and Willie, and thought that I could apply some of that hard won knowledge to help a fearful puppy. And although my house would never qualify as quiet, with the children away for three weeks, a short term foster would be a fun way to spend my vacation.

When I arrived to bring Jolly home, she lay shaking, curled in a tight ball in the back of her kennel. It looked as if she was ignoring me, but her averted head and wide staring eyes told a different story. Since she was literally frozen in fear, we gently picked her up and carried her to the car, and she promptly urinated all over me. I tried to maintain my dignity and remain calm while warm urine ran down my leg and into my shoe, but it was a challenge. We finally made it across the parking lot and to the car, and Jolly lay quivering in the back while I drove home wondering what I had gotten myself into.

Since the kitchen had an easy to clean tile floor and direct access to the back yard, we set Jolly’s safe space up, tucked in between cabinets. We draped a blanket over her crate and attached an x-pen around the sides so she could come into the kitchen, but the resident animals couldn’t directly meet her.

Then I waited.

Jolly stayed pressed against the back of her crate as I went about my daily chores, while the cats clustered around the outside of the x-pen, hoping to snack on her food. Several days went by, with only wet wee wee pads to show that she was moving at all.

I spent countless hours sitting on a stool in the corner of the kitchen reading quietly or out loud to her, and whenever I passed by her crate, I would throw a treat into the back for her and keep moving. Jolly still wouldn’t budge from her safe space, but she started watching me as I walked back and forth, which although small, was a step in the right direction. The real heroes, though, were the cats, who would sit staring at Jolly as if she was an engrossing TV program. Two weeks after bringing her home, Jolly finally took her first steps in daylight to investigate the cats at close range.

Once Jolly could move between her crate and x-pen, I would sit inside the enclosure with her food scattered around and read my book. I didn’t acknowledge her, pet her or feed her, but I did feed the cats on the other side of the x-pen. She became brave enough to walk around me and would stand in the x pen when I walked into the kitchen, instead of hiding in the back, so I decided that it was time to “unleash” my secret weapon. Willie had been walking by Jolly’s enclosure to go outside, but because I had the X-pen draped with sheets, up to this point, Jolly and Willie never actually laid eyes on each other. When I say that it was love at first sight, I am not exaggerating. Willie would play bow and make himself as small as possible as Jolly wiggled her way around him and followed him everywhere. With Wille’s help, we introduced her to walking beside him to the fenced in yard, which allowed us to slowly expand her world beyond the kitchen.

Needless to say, weeks turned into months, and I kept telling myself that there was more work to do before Jolly could be adoptable.

Besides her growing confidence was the change in Jolly’s name. We couldn’t live with the irony that Jolly was anything but jolly, so the children lobbied to name her after a beloved teacher plus our favorite saint’s name for good measure. And once we named her, Kathleen Frances “Hoover” The Brave McCarthy LePage, a.k.a. Katie, was here to stay.

Five years have gone by in the blink of an eye and we adore Katie for who she is and how far she’s come. She continues to grow in confidence and maturity every day, and with special accommodations can participate in much of our family life. We accept that she is comfortable with only our immediate family and a handful of close friends, and that’s ok. She does not like to be accosted by strange dogs off leash, so we make sure we keep her safe by going to quiet, on leash venues. Novel situations can be overwhelming, but if we are selective and give her lots of distance and time, she can enjoy new experiences in small doses. She has been my best teacher and has challenged me to expand my world as I have expanded hers.

Would I do it all over again? The answer is a resounding “Yes!”

Happy Anniversary, Kathleen Frances “Hoover” The Brave.