Chaya and Polly - the story continues

Perlina shortly after arriving from Mexico

The next day, no surprise to me, my clients, Deborah and Paul, call. "The dogs are not right for us," they explain. "They need dental work, they need grooming and Perlina is mean." I tell them, I will take the dogs back right away. I thank them for keeping them overnight and let them know I will find them new homes quickly. It won't be a problem, I hear myself saying. But really, I am thinking, what an idiot I am to take them sight unseen. They will be so hard to adopt out and Tom's going to kill me when I walk in with two little street urchins and tell him they will be our new house guests for a while.

Paul meets up with me a few hours later and before he unloads the dogs I wait while he carefully dons a pair of oven gloves. He sees my surprise and explains that he uses the oven gloves to handle the dogs in case they bite him. He passes the dogs to me, one at a time, holding them gingerly at arms length. and I can sense his utter relief as I load them into my car and slam the door.

Soul Mates - Kim and Chaya

I take the dogs home and put them in my laundry shed. They are just too unstable to bring into the house with my dogs. I make a bed for them inside a dog crate. They huddle together, afraid and confused; Chapis in the back and Perlina, her daughter, in the front.

I feed them and watch them for a while. Chapis will be the easiest to home, I decide, she is the cuter of the pair and has the sweetest nature. I manage to untangle her from Perlina and bathe her in the kitchen sink.

Tom comes home from work, sees my new project and gives me the "look." Poor guy, even I know I screwed up with these two. Luckily, as I am out of options, he doesn't turn us all out on the street. I promise him I will find homes, and as quickly as possible, but we both know this will not be easy.

Happy Chaya in her new life.

The next day I take Chapis to the office and she sits behind me on my office chair while I work, she is quiet and well mannered. Wherever I go, I take her with me and ask everyone I meet if they want a sweet little terrier. Just one day later, this strategy pays off. Right outside my office I ask a woman I have never met before, Kim, if she wants Chapis and she answers one incredible word - maybe. A few days later Chapis is miraculously homed, and not just any home. Chapis, (now called Chaya) and Kim are soul mates. Seeing them now, it is very hard for anyone to say who has rescued whom.

Polly in her new life, running in the snow!

Perlina on the other hand fears for her life and this make her mean and unpredictable. She is in no condition to be re-homed so we decide to simply ignore her. Without Chaya for companionship, surely she will seek out the company of people. I move her dog crate bed into a corner of the living room and for the next three months that is her home of choice. She ventures out of the crate only when it is quiet and safe.

Living with her like this, tucked away in her crate while life goes on around her, is like having our very own Mrs Rochester in the house. Everyone knows she is there but nobody mentions her or gives her any attention. She is so little trouble, in fact that it is easy to forget her entirely. Slowly she begins to trust, first with Tom and then me and our dogs and lastly with our family and friends. It takes about six months before I finally move the dog crate back to the shed for storage, and Polly, as she is now known, becomes a happy, loving member of our pack.

Chapis and Perlina

When people ask me how many dogs we have and I answer four, I always say it with a rather sheepish expression. I am familiar with the shocked looks or the rolling of eyes that follow this honest admission. In my defense, I have the decency to look embarrassed, as I should, since the legal limit in LA county is three dogs per household and if my flagrant disregard for the law doesn't offend someone, the vision of a home knee deep in dog hair will.

Perlina

Our third dog came to us from Mexico. She would definitely qualify as one of my more impulsive rescues. Three years ago I signed up to receive an email newsletter from a little town in Baja, Mexico, called La Ventana. I am particularly fond of this area and wanted to keep up with the local news. The newsletter would appear in my inbox every few days and over the course of a month I saw increasingly more desperate pleas from a woman begging for help with two dogs she called Chapis and Perlina. Apparently, she had found them tied to a tree and had been feeding them and caring for them, but now she was leaving Mexico to come back to the states and was worried that without her protection they would not survive.

Chapis

I email her for a photograph of the dogs and ask her what city she will fly into when she comes back to the States. She sends me her only photo, an out of focus shot of both dogs from the rear and tells me she was flying to LAX.  I suggest she bring the dogs and I assure her I will find good homes for them. In fact, I already have a home in mind, as clients of mine are actively looking for a small, female terrier.

I persuade my clients to take both dogs on trial and arrange to drop them off on my way back from the airport, which I  figure will probably end up being about ten in the evening. A week later with flight details in hand, I arrive at the designated rendezvous: a busy airport hotel. I pace the lobby nervously for a good 45 minutes and pester the staff at the front desk for news, when finally two dog carriers appear amid a good deal of luggage. I know right away these are the dogs and peer into the cages at a couple of disreputable creatures. I immediately understand why she sent me a photo of their butts. Besides dental issues, the animals are filthy, and one of them, Perlina, is very overweight and not the least bit friendly.

I finally track down their owner by following the porter and the dogs to a hotel room. I introduce myself and within a few moments she gives me both dogs but minus the carriers, which she explains are borrowed and must be returned. I am too tired to argue, so I grab the dogs and load them into my car and drive to the Venice canals to a stunning architectural home on the water. My clients graciously take the dogs in without fuss. It is very late and everyone is anxious to get to bed. I head home exhausted and with a bad feeling. Both dogs were clearly filthy, stressed and in poor health. This doesn't seem like a good fit to me. All I could do was hope and cross my fingers.

Samantha Longboard

After the dust finally settles on the Topanga Days Parade, we have just one dog left; funny Dora, the one that Tom predicated isn't going anywhere. Perhaps he is right, I worry; maybe nobody will want such an odd-looking creature. I load her up in the car and take her home with me. I assure Tom that I will have her a homed in a matter of days and I get to work at once, making calls and sending emails. I upload her funny mug to Facebook and beg everyone to share.

Sammie in the snow.

In the meantime, Dora makes herself comfortable in our house with Tom and our other dogs. She is an alpha in a calm way. No need for growling or scene- making. This dog gets what she wants with a minimum of effort. My dogs move over and make room for the pushy newcomer, although Maggie is not very happy about it. She is clearly a little put out by her sudden demotion from top dog, and for some reason she blames Tom for this and gives him the cold shoulder for several days.

Sammie at the Beach

In our house the pack has figured out that Tom is the one to impress. I feed them, walk them and pick up the poop, but if Tom and I should come home together they practically knock me over in their efforts to greet him. In their minds I am merely the help, and, actually, I am fine with that. Dora is no different, she locks onto to Tom at once, shamelessly throwing herself at him at every opportunity and making it clear in her quiet but forceful way, he is all hers.

Tom is flattered and amused, but mostly struck by her similarities to his beloved Jack. The personalities, body language, and even their body shape are so alike it is uncanny. We decide the name Dora just doesn't suit her and Tom suggests we rename her Sammie, I like it, and add that her full name should be Samantha Longboard, which we agree suits her very well. We are both starting to fall in love with her and find it hard to resist her demands. So naturally, we end up giving her whatever she wants which includes sleeping in bed with us.

Saturday morning, five days after the parade, I get a call from a neighbor, she tells me excitedly that she has a friend that really wants Dora and can take her today. I hang up the phone, look at Tom and say bleakly, "Sammie has a home." We stare at each other, knowing we should be happy, but we suddenly realize how much we will miss her if she goes. Tom looks at Sammie, looks at me, and says, "Too late, we're keeping her; Sammie isn't going anywhere."

Kinzie Goes Home.

Our little group heads enthusiastically up the parade route. Our destination: the community house about four miles ahead. People wave and cheer and the energy is thrilling. The dogs are having fun and are enjoying the walk. They are all being very well behaved except little Theo, who has a very big attitude for such a little man. He makes it known to the other dogs that he would prefer to be leading the pack by nipping at everyone as they try to get past him.

We stop again and again to talk to people that want to meet the dogs and know what we are doing and why. I do my best to "sell" the dogs, and shelter dogs in general. We hand out our flyers and take phone numbers. Time seems to fly by and I can't believe how quickly the miles disappear. Curly is getting a lot of interest, but my friend, Skye, thinks he would be perfect for her mother's housekeeper in Santa Barbara. She wants to take him up there right away if he is not adopted out of the Parade.

The list of back-up owners for Knut Knut grows ever longer as he rides in style, looking ridiculously cute in a little red wagon pulled by my nephew, Luc. I can't help worrying about Kinzie, especially as we come up on the last half mile. Suddenly, a women runs after us and says that her husband wants Kinzie!

Richard Thomas and his wife, Patti, are locals and have brought their big male dog, Bodhi, with them to watch the parade. Bodhi is there by their side, calm and well mannered as they all greet Kinzie for the first time. I hand over the leash to Richard and, just like that, she is not my dog anymore. Melissa and I say an emotional good bye, but I know our beautiful girl has found a forever home. I am ecstatic. Four or maybe even five dogs homed if Curly goes to Santa Barbara. That just left Dora and she had one person that was quite interested. We exchanged numbers at the end of the parade and she said she would call me and let me know.

All in all it was a very good day.

Richard with Kinzie and Bodhi on a hike in Topanga. 

In Patti's words: I saw Kinzie's paws as the two of you approached in the parade, and knew she was an extraordinary dog - saw her face, and fell in love. My jaw dropped when I found out she was available for adoption. I pointed Kinzie out to Richie, told him she was up for adoption, he said, "I'm open," and I scurried up the hill to take her back to meet him and Bodhi (our other dog) to make sure they got along. It was love at first sight for them, and we all knew we were hooked. We took her right there and then and came over to your office a couple of hours later for the paperwork. She's been a joy ever since."