Calvin: The Life of a Rescued Dog

I could wait until Calvin is no longer with me to write about him, but I don’t want to do that. I want to focus on his life, not his passing.  He has had a very full life, worthy of focus. This is a story worth reading if you've ever wondered why people choose to adopt someone else’s rejected leftover dog instead of getting their own shiny new puppy. If you want allegory, you can call it a story of realizing potential, or fresh starts, or redemption, or being seen and understood for who you are. Or it’s just one story about the life of one dog.

I don’t know much about Calvin’s early life.  Most of what I know is what he didn't have. He didn't have a house. He didn't have training. He didn't have play dates, or any socialization. He didn't have toys. He didn't have food that was good for him. He didn't have training, or walks, or friends. He was just another cute, fluffy white little puppy that grew up into a large dog, stuck in the backyard when he got too big and started shedding and got into things because he was bored and untrained, and was always sick.

The best thing that could have happened to him was that his owner decided to move to California, and “thought he wouldn't like it there.” She never knew what she had, or maybe what she could have had if she’d paid attention, put in a bit of effort. That was my win, though. I did the work, and got an amazing animal to share my life.

It was not easy at the start. He came to me at age 3½. This was his fifth home in about 2 months, including 2 failed adoptions and an excellent foster home in between them - thanks, Cynthia. Yes, two failed adoptions. Not for the best of reasons, but he was not an easy dog at the time.I was pretty much his last hope. I knew he was going to be a “project dog” and the initial plan was I’d foster with the option/intent to adopt.

I remember when his second adopter brought him to my house. He came in the back of their SUV, crated with the 2 dogs he was accused of fighting with (hence the failure). I remember him getting out of the truck, and the palpable relief coming off him, to be out of that crate, out from between those other 2 dogs. He didn't look back. I knew that evening that he was staying, that he needed to stay. I knew the name that was going to belong to my dog, and when I met Calvin (Climax’s Luckie Shamrock, Luckie, Wrigley, Laika) I knew he was the dog that belonged to the name.

Calvin had a lot of work to do in those first few months. Cynthia taught him some basic commands, and how to go for walks, and how to coexist with other dogs - though that last was undermined a lot in the second non-adoption. He had serious resource-guarding issues, and we had to work on something other than bark/growl/snap/charge when someone went too close to his toys or treasures.  Food was never an issue - not surprising since he was allergic to pretty much everything he’d ever eaten. I worked on making clear what was not acceptable behavior, reinforced pretty much everything else, and eventually he showed me what he was most comfortable with to protect his stuff. It took months, lots of practice, and willingness to get it right from both of us, but it worked. He learned that when someone got too close to his stuff, he could calmly walk over, pick it up, and move it to a place he felt was safe. That was the specific of what we were working on, but what we were really doing was getting to know each other and trust each other. Calvin liked me pretty much right away, but he didn't trust me for at least 4-5 months.

The food issue was initially a major hurdle, but once I had enough information to figure out that he had a food issue it became a way to build trust. I didn't get any veterinary information with him, but once I talked to Cynthia I learned enough to understand that he had a food allergy. Fortunately, I already had grain-free food, and fortunately the most common food allergy in dogs is wheat. So the first thing I tried worked for him. He started putting on weight (he was way underweight), he stopped itching and stopped scratching himself raw, his eyes and ears cleared up, his chronic diarrhea cleared up, and his coat started coming in thick and long and beautiful. He felt better, he had more energy, and he knew I did that. My food and treats were safe. To this day, more than ten years later, he only takes treats from a select few and places all others discreetly on the ground.

So, those things out of the way, it was time to work on social skills, talents, manners. Basic obedience was easy. Calvin will work for garlic summer sausage, and he’s smart enough to understand what I’m asking, and learn it quickly. He’s also independent-minded enough to evaluate the situation and see whether he cared to do as I asked or not. For many years, when I called him in from the back yard, he’d look at me and either come or turn his back and walk to the farthest corner of the yard.

After that we tried some agility classes. He was great with the equipment - not afraid of anything, got it all right the first time, except the weave poles with I suspect he just thought were dumb. Choose a side and stick with it. Agility 1 was great. In Agility 2 we started working on sequences, and he had to do the things I asked in the order I asked.  That didn't go so well. When released to run his course, he would go to the things he liked best and do those, then maybe return happily to me, or maybe go exploring. So very much was still new to him. We stopped agility after that, since it wasn't a good fit. He saw it as a game, which is fine, and he enjoyed it, but he had trouble doing what I wanted over what he wanted, had trouble waiting his turn, and had trouble not trying to convince the other dogs in the class to play with him.

Calvin used to play hard, and then make himself comfortable to rest and recharge.

Which brings me to the single best illustration of Calvin’s character. The story of his life wouldn't be complete without the Great Butter Theft. Calvin used to be, in proper Samoyed tradition, quite the counter surfer. I knew that. I knew to put things in the microwave to defrost, whether or not I turned it on. I knew not to put anything remotely appealing within 5 feet of the ground. But sometimes I get a bit lazy.

I had a stick of butter that needed to soften for something I was going to bake. I put it on the kitchen counter, and Calvin ignored it completely for half an hour. It wasn't quite softened, and I needed to wash my hair, so I pushed the stick of butter way to the back of the counter and headed for the shower. After about 10 minutes, Calvin poked his head around the shower curtain, I said hi and gave him a quick wet scratch, and he left.  He’d never done anything like this before. A few minutes later he was back for another scratch, and gone. Fine. This was new, a bit weird, but fine. I didn't think anything of it until I finished, and came out of the bathroom to find Calvin sitting in the hall outside the bathroom door, very gently and carefully holding the entire still-wrapped stick of butter in his mouth. It was really quite impressive how huge a grin he could manage while holding onto his prize. He gave it to me when I asked for it, and it was perfectly fine except for 4 little dents from his teeth.

That was so him. He took it just to show me he could, and had to show it off. He was so proud of himself, and was gentle and careful and did no harm at all. If you don’t think a dog can have a sense of humor, you don’t know Calvin.

During all this, we were also working on social skills with other dogs, and with people. The dog skills were at the dog park, for the most part. There was a lot to work on. Calvin always wanted to play, but he just didn’t know how to play with a dog. He thought the way to play with a small dog was to run full speed at him, and then jump over him at the last minute. He loved it. Just him, unfortunately. large dogs, on the other hand, tended to see him as a pushover, and do various things to dominate him. He really was a pushover, too. He’s probably the largest dog who has managed to get his head lower than a Westie.

We worked on greeting small dogs gently, and on having him come to me if he didn't like the way another dog was behaving around him. He gradually learned to play with dogs, and lost the big “victim” sign. He was a good fast runner on the straightaways, playing chase, but he couldn't corner any better than an Isuzu Rodeo. He always tried to play whatever game the other dog was playing. That meant when he was running with a bird dog, I’d see both of them popping up from the tall grass every so often to spot birds, and when he was with a boxer he’d stand up on his hind legs (for a little while, anyway) and try boxing.

He did love the mud hole at the dog park. Then one year they filled it in.  That was sad.

Let me just say that we spent a month of walking past the local elementary/middle school every day, with consistent commands and natural consequences, and he learned to greet children as well as adults gently and happily, with no barking or facelicking. It took him months of consistent dog park visits, consistent commands and  feedback and praise, but he learned to relax and see the signals of other dogs, and give the right signals himself. It was about that time that his best girlfriend Nell came along.

Nell. The single most important dog in Calvin’s life. She’s an Australian shepherd from a working line - could not have a more different temperament. They met the very first day she loved into the neighborhood, at about 10 weeks of age. The first time she came over for a play date she couldn't even walk over herself (big tummy, short legs). Calvin played with her just so sweetly. He let her climb all over him, and even played chase with her - the funniest chase I've seen. Calvin would walk very slowly, looking back over his shoulder every couple of steps to be sure that tiny Nell was keeping up.

That set the tone for their lifelong friendship. He has always protected her, and she has always let him do thing no other dog was allowed to even consider. Now that Calvin is old and less able, Nell is starting to be protective of him. But Calvin can still unfailingly find Nell’s urine and cover with his own. In fact, Calvin has an amazing nose that is utterly wasted on flawless detection of useless things - Nell’s urine, and dead rabbit - the drier and crunchier the better. I’m sure he would have been an amazing cadaver dog if only I’d known and he’d been younger. That was not his destined career, though.

When Calvin was about 5, we started working on his therapy dog skills. He passed his test on the first try, though I have a feeling he’s the only dog who had trouble with both Come and Stay, and still passed. There are things about Calvin that I have to explain every time we test or retest, and requests I have to make of them that have to do with the test and not the work, but it’s because of Calvin’s complicated past. I always have to explain that I know he’s not good around small animals, but that’s because he hunted rabbits in the back yard - a perfectly normal canine activity. I always had to ask that we use a toy that doesn't belong to him for the “leave it” test, because he’s smart enough not to leave one of his toys in a strange room that smells like other dogs. He will, however, completely ignore someone else’s toy if I ask him to - and that’s the skill they really want to test for.

This was Calvin’s real job. He worked at St Marys Hospital for 5 years, visiting patients, family members, people working at the hospital - anybody who wanted a few minutes of his time. He had some regular friends that we had to see every week we were there, and of course made new friends every time. From not long after we started there, I’d periodically run into someone that he’d visited - sometimes years before - who would remember us, ask after him if he wasn't there, and tell me how much his visit had meant. I have no doubt people enjoyed seeing him, but the reason Calvin did this job so happily is because he enjoyed it. Just before Calvin retired from his work at the hospital, he got his 500 hour pin for volunteering. He was even invited to the luncheon and award ceremony. Of course we went.

After he retired from the hospital - it was a lot of walking - he started another 3 years of volunteering as a READ dog. It’s a great program where early or less confident readers come to the library and read to a dog. It was easier work, lying on his special blanket while kids sat next to him and read him stories. He liked it, and it really felt like we were doing something good for the neighborhood kids. He retired from that once he got to be 13 and lost some of his energy.

As hard as it is to believe, when I first got Calvin we could walk through the neighborhood, and walk past people. It didn't take long before the neighbors taught him that he was supposed to be petted and scratched and spoken to. This was quite the revelation to a formerly-ignored dog, but he sure took to it. And working as a therapy dog just reinforced the lesson that he was to be noticed and admired. He’s never forgotten that and never will.

Another of Calvin’s activities was welcoming foster dogs, and setting a good example for them. I’m pretty sure his favorite was Simba. The two of them were close in age, and just got on well. They would play and play until they were too exhausted to stand, and then they’d lie down in the living room, heads towards each other, and mouth wrestle until one of them fell asleep. While Simba was here I just got used to, every time I came home, putting the living room furniture back where it was supposed to be. They were just a well-matched pair, and had a good time together.

Another foster dog that Calvin had a big impact on was Shaka. Shaka was actually Calvin’s little brother - same backyard breeder, same parents, different litter. Shaka’s early life was loving but isolated, so he wasn't comfortable with strangers and almost everyone was a stranger. Since my entire neighborhood was used to fussing over Calvin, I spent Shaka’s first 2 weeks asking the people we met on walks to greet Calvin as they wanted, but please ignore Shaka and let him choose what to do. He started out just standing unobtrusively behind me, but Calvin set such a good example that Shaka started cautiously approaching people and getting his own scratches and attention. One woman who met Shaka in his first week with us next saw us all walking about 3 weeks later. She asked where the shy foster dog was. My answer: “The dog standing on his hind legs right in front of you looking you in the eye - that’s him.” It was such a transformation, and all because of Calvin’s example, and his friends throughout the neighborhood.

As long as he’s been here, Calvin has always lived with cats. Some have merely tolerated him, same have actively competed with and teased him, and one has been his friend and companion. Natasha in particular used to tease Calvin as much as he teased her. Throughout Calvin’s first winter here, Natasha would pounce on, attack, and rub all over Calvin’s plush toys. In return, Calvin would sneak Natasha’s glitter ball toys out into the back yard one by one. Once I caught on I tried trading a treat for the glitter ball, but that quickly resulted in Calvin picking up a glitter ball and walking straight over to where the treats were, to make it easier for me to trade. The trading didn't last long. That spring, after the snow melted, I was more than a little surprised to find a neat pile of a couple dozen glitter balls near Calvin’s spot in the yard.

Calvin's cat companion is Frankie. Frankie made himself known at the adoption center in the pet food place Calvin used to go to with me. Calvin likes the smell of the horse stuff - the saddles of course, but also the food and treats - so we have to visit that area. The adoption center is right next to it, and we’d generally walk by. The other cats retreated, hissed, arched, or puffed up. Frankie came over to the door on his 3 legs and stood up to get as close to Calvin as possible and look at him. It was clear he wanted to join us. I adopted Frankie, and set up his own room for the first few days so he could adjust slowly. Calvin, however was having none of that. The first night, Calvin insisted on visiting Frankie in his room multiple times, and would not leave him alone all night. The picture is from that first day. The 3 of us ended up sleeping on the floor that night. The two of them have always settled next to each other, respected each other’s space, and generally had a nice buddy relationship. Frankie will even share the fruits of his hunting with Calvin - once he’s eaten his fill.

Now Calvin is old. He can’t really see anything, the teeth he has left are in bad shape but he’s too old for more dental work, his breathing isn’t great, and his mobility has really declined. He doesn't always sleep well at night, and will sometimes spend hours wandering the house. I have to block off the stairs to the basement to keep him safe. We still go for walks, but they are short and very very slow. So much of my thinking about Calvin these days is filled with the used-to’s, and that’s not an easy thing.

Having an old dog is hard. I want to do what’s best for him, but it gets harder. I miss the therapy dog work we did together, and then feel guilty because I can’t do that again until Calvin is gone. If he doesn't sleep well I have to work not to get frustrated that he’s keeping me up all night too, and if he does sleep then I wake up in the middle of the night to check that he’s still breathing. Every time I walk in the house I can’t really relax until I see Calvin moving. I know that when it’s Calvin’s time it’s going to destroy me. No, that’s melodramatic. It will be very difficult and I will mourn and grieve, and I will handle it. I will have dogs after him. How could I not, with everything I've gotten from Calvin?

I tried to adopt another dog last fall. Partly it was selfish, so I would have another canine companion when Calvin was gone. Partly it was for Calvin, though. I hoped he’d have company, a friend, someone to reassure him when I was at work. It didn't work that way. The young fellow, as he bonded with me, couldn't tolerate having an old sick dog around. He was just trying to do what he thought was best for me and the pack, but it wasn't going to work. I couldn't even get mad at him because I knew he was trying to help me. So now it’s me and Calvin. And the cats of course.

Calvin is still eating well, he still likes a good scratch under the chin or behind the ear, asks for treats regularly, loves walks with Nell, and has a lot of friends of all ages and several species in the neighborhood. As long as he has more pleasure than problems, we’re good. But I will not allow him to go on until every pleasure is gone and all he has left is the hope that someday he can stop.

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Calvin, born Climax's Luckie Shamrock. March 17, 2000 - August 8, 2014