Why We Can't Keep Mabel and Why We Need Your Help

Not one person has inquired seriously about adopting Mabel in eight weeks. Not one. (There's a whole other post on that topic sitting in draft form.) But I have received 3 e-mails from total strangers telling me I should keep her, asking me to keep her, or suggesting that it seems like Mabel already has a home, offering that insight as "just a thought." And I've seen posts on at least one bulletin board in which people have talked about how much they hope I'll keep her. A couple friends have asked about whether we might be permanently adopting her too, and those questions haven't bothered me; they've been asked politely, and when I've explained why we can't, the friends have understood immediately, knowing what our lives were like before Mabel in addition to hearing what our lives are like now. But when strangers write elsewhere about how I should keep her or write to me to suggest I keep her, as if strangers could have any idea what life is like here or have standing to comment on it, I'm bothered.

I want to be clear that the guilt and anguish we feel over not being able to keep Mabel is very real and very painful. Last month, when the first stranger, in response to one of my mailing list messages, sent me the note saying, "maybe she already has a home . . . just a thought," despite my having just explained why we couldn't keep her, this short message bothered me to the point of tears. Today's e-mail from a stranger, telling me that he respected my "decision" not to keep Mabel while simultaneously asking me to reconsider, given how much she loves us and we love her, elicited both tears and anger. Please, please, understand, readers--there is no decision. We just can't. And this is hard enough without strangers telling us what they think we should do.

How could anyone believe that in a whole two months of loving and caring for Mabel, we haven't considered keeping her and wanted to keep her and tried to find a way to keep her? How can someone who has no idea what our day-to-day lives are like here, who has no firsthand knowledge of us or of Mabel or of any of the other animals here, make a judgment about how we're handling this--how could anyone possibly think that the idea of keeping her is something novel and new that needs to be suggested to us, something we haven't already pondered and agonized over? Knowing that we have to let Mabel go is not something that's easy for us. My heart is going to feel like it's being shredded by razors when she leaves.

But at some point, she has to leave for another home, despite how much I don't want her to. I love Mabel, more each day. But folks seem to forget that we ended up fostering her not by choice, but by default. We knew, the moment we found Mabel, that keeping her--even fostering her--was completely unrealistic, perhaps even impossible, given our own current situation and Mabel's likely needs. We desperately tried to find her another place to live. But when it became apparent that all the places she could go were already full, we were faced with a decision: take her in and do our best for as long as possible or take her to a mainstream shelter and her almost certain death. We didn't have a choice. We couldn't let this sweet dog languish or die in a shelter.

In the first couple weeks, we were overwhelmed in more ways than I can count, but a large part of the difficulty of those first weeks was our constant--constant--guilt over how the other animals in this house were suffering or not having all their needs fully met because of our decision to foster Mabel. Before Mabel, there were already 3 dogs and 2 cats in this essentially one-bedroom house (with a mostly finished basement). Day-to-day life was already enough to sometimes leave me barely hanging on to sanity. Beyond much else going on in life, our dogs and cats have their own issues, and caring for all of them every day, all day and all night, while also trying to work from home full-time and also meet gobs of other responsibilities and deal with gobs of other time- and energy-consuming life issues, was almost more than I could handle before Mabel.

And in those first couple weeks, we decided this: yes, we were overwhelmed, and yes, we were guilt-stricken over what our animals were going through while Mabel was here and in need of so much attention, but this wasn't permanent, and after Mabel recovered and had a home (which I naively thought would take only a few weeks to a month), we would make it up to them; we didn't want them to be sad or for their routines and lives to be so disrupted, but Mabel's entire life and future were at stake, and we couldn't deny her the chance for a full and happy life, for another decade of living, just because the other animals' lives would be inconvenienced or more stressful than usual for a month.

Since Mabel's arrival, the animals in this house have had to be broken up into 3 pairs (it used to be just 2 sets--dogs and cats) that are kept completely separate at all times during the day. I spend half my day just finding ways to move the different sets to different areas of the house or outside without their paths ever intersecting or any animal (cat or dog) ever being in danger from another. I am constantly aware of and stressed about which animals are not getting enough time and attention. I am constantly worried that I'm going to screw up. I have been constantly behind in work since Mabel got here, not able to work at all the first week or two she was here (and when freelancers don't work, freelancers don't have income). People who can't imagine that daily life with these 6 animals could really be that hard or that stressful don't know these 6 animals or this house--and wouldn't last a day here.

When Brandi is home in the evenings, we do sometimes have all 4 dogs in the same (small) room, but there is never a fully relaxed moment during these interludes. Mabel is always on a leash, but the room is too small, and there are too many things and beings in it. And there are too many distractions outside that regularly send the other dogs barking and running to the windows, and there is always a greyhound on the other side of the room who both dislikes and now fears Mabel.

And here we have reached one of the primary reasons that Mabel can't stay here permanently. Neither Mabel nor Ella the greyhound is fully comfortable or safe here right now, at least or especially when they're in the same space. Ella has disliked Mabel from the start, and she has shown it. Since a bad first meeting, Mabel has tried to be friendly with Ella, and Ella has alternated between ignoring her and snarling at her. A couple weeks ago, when I accidentally let them both into the yard at the same time, Ella came charging at Mabel full-greyhound-speed from across the yard as soon as Mabel jumped off the bottom of the deck steps into the yard. We'll never know if Ella's initial intent might have been playful, but the situation ended with a traumatized Ella at the vet's office getting stitches down her side and with Mabel upset and scared and curled up at my feet, refusing to even eat her dinner. Mabel likes Ella. Mabel likes and is liked by Sara the black lab. Mabel loves and is loved by Chance. But Mabel and Ella cannot live together. They are not safe together.

Mabel, for many, many reasons, will be better off in the long run in a home that is better suited for her, in a home where there are fewer animals and where she can get more one-on-one attention and where there is not tension or danger for her.

There are other reasons we can't keep Mabel, reasons that I won't go into in a public post, but please trust that they are real, valid reasons.

Please understand too that some real sacrifices, with long-term consequences in some cases, have been made and will continue to be made during this time in which we're caring for Mabel. Please know that we are doing all that we possibly can for her--more than we really can for her, as other parts of our lives and ourselves, our families, our animals, our relationships, and our work pay the price. Personally, the addition of Mabel to our home this summer has prevented me from doing something that I desperately needed to do, something that was vitally important to me, something that I may very well be missing my last chance to do--because I chose to keep caring for Mabel. Even as I write this, I may be permanently losing pieces of my family's history and pieces of myself because I am not where I intended to be this summer, because I am here with Mabel instead, because when it became clear that she was not going to be adopted as soon as we'd hoped, we did not just give up on her. I do not for one moment regret taking Mabel off the streets that night--I love her with all my heart, and I would do it again without hesitation--but the decision has not been without consequences.

So please, if you have a home for Mabel or you know someone who does, don't think that just because we love her so much, we should or can or will keep her. I want to be her buddy for the rest of her life. I want to help her adoptive family in any ways I can as they get to know her and make further progress with her. I want to dogsit her when they go out of town. I want to visit her or invite her over to see Chance. And I want to keep her; I just can't. Her departure is going to be more difficult and painful for us than I can put into words, and the thought of how it's going to confuse and upset her breaks my heart even more, but there truly is no other option.

We love Mabel tremendously. But in this case, much as we wish it were, love is just not enough.

Francis Park, Round 2

In the car, leaving the park

Last night, on our second trip to Francis Park, Mabel was just perfect. Her fear of humans seems to be turning into a fascination with them. I wondered if, despite her progress Saturday night, she might at least start this venture nervous again, huddling in close to my legs or trying to move to the other side of my body, away from people when they passed, like she did at the start of her first trip to the park. She didn't. From the beginning of the walk, instead of turning away from passersby, she turned toward them, turning her head all the way around to watch them pass (she has to turn her head because as we walk down the right side of the sidewalk, people pass on her left, on her blind side). She slowed down ever so slightly a few times, but her tail did not tuck--it stayed up and several times even wagged. A couple times when people passed us from behind, she behaved as if she wanted to catch up with them, tail wagging away. She tried to sniff at least one person's shoes. Because we arrived at the park later than planned, and dark was catching up with us, our walk was much shorter than the previous one, but it was also hot and humid, so the half-hour stroll was just about right. We sat on a bench again at the end, and Mabel watched curiously but calmly as walkers, joggers, cyclists, and dog-walkers passed. Near the end, out of the blue, she barked at one jogger who passed (after having been completely unbothered by a dozen others), and we're not sure why she did it--it's possible that something else in that moment (e.g., a noise, a flash of car headlights) startled her or that Mabel wasn't paying attention, and because the woman came from her left, Mabel didn't notice the jogger until she was right in front of her. But whatever the reason, it was one bark from a sitting position, and then she was fine.

We don't think she's at the point yet where a stranger could approach her directly and interact with her without initially scaring her, but that day may not be far off! Watching this change in her--and seeing how quickly it's happening--is just astonishing.

Mabel Tackles Francis Park--and Succeeds!

Don't worry--we didn't let Mabel off-leash in the park. This was taken at home. Park pictures still to come.

Really, she just impresses the hell out of of me sometimes, this dog. Saturday evening, armed with a water bottle, a water bowl, treats, and Chance, who we're hoping provides Mabel with more comfort in these situations and who can show Mabel through her own interactions with humans that they're OK, we took Mabel to a busy (and beautiful) park--busy was good for Mabel; beautiful was good for the humans.

With lots of cars going by on the street to our left; lots of people walking, running, and riding past us on the sidewalk; and lots of activity (e.g., tennis matches and playing children) going on inside the park, we expected that Mabel might get anxious to the point of not being able to get comfortable and feel safe again early in the walk and that we might need to make this first venture into Francis Park a short one and then proceed to increase our time there on future visits. Instead, halfway through and a couple dozen people into the 1.25-mile walk around the perimeter of the park, Mabel was doing just beautifully. By the time we were halfway through the walk, adults, children, and dogs could walk or jog past her with barely an acknowledgment from Mabel (well, almost--the sight of another dog always elicited a wagging tail, and that's the kind of acknowledgment we want!). Aside from the treat and/or abundant praise Mabel received after every instance of walking unfazed as we passed someone, she looked and acted just like any other dog out for an evening stroll.

Two different scenarios made me especially proud of Mabel. First, in the last fourth of our walk, a woman and small girl were approaching us. The girl stopped to pick at something on the sidewalk, and when she was done, she started to run to catch up with her mother. She wasn't running at Mabel by any means, but I could see that she was going to run close to us as she passed, and I thought for sure that this was going to startle Mabel and lead her to bark. But what did this sweet dog do? She stood there, watched the girl prance by, and wagged her tail. This, my friends, warranted buckets of praise.

At the end of the walk, we sat down on a bench just off the sidewalk, to see how Mabel would do when we just let people pass us, as we sat there stationary. She watched with calm but alert interest for the first couple minutes, but then--and this is key!--she not only sat down but then also proceeded to lie down next to and in front of the bench, and she remained in that position, calm and comfortable, as groups of people walked by just a few feet from where she lay. She knew they were there--she looked at them without getting up--but she just didn't care. This is the same dog who a week ago was barking in fear at people standing in their very own yards, fifteen feet away from her, while we walked by. This is big stuff!

We did have one easily manageable barking incident near the end of the evening, but it wasn't a surprising result. A group of three or four (I can't remember now) talkative older adults were approaching us with two excited, fast-walking dogs, and they were spread across the whole sidewalk. I could see that they were going to have to pass very close to Mabel, so I held on tight to her, despite the fact that B. was convinced they would move over a little bit once they got to us. They didn't, and they let one of the dogs come right over to Mabel and Chance, and all of this was fine, but then in addition to the whole big group getting very close to Mabel, one of the men very sweetly remarked, looking at Mabel, on how well-behaved she was. The combination of so many bodies passing her at once, so close, and one of the people slowing down next to her, looking at her, and talking to her was enough to make her nervous, and she backed away and barked. But they kept moving, and Mabel quickly returned to a calm state. When subsequent people and dogs passed, she remained just as unbothered as before. This is a big deal. A week ago, if something or someone had scared Mabel, then everyone else following would have scared her and sent her barking too. But this time, she was able to experience a moment of anxiousness, get over it, and encounter subsequent people with a clean slate.

We didn't go to the park yesterday morning because of prepping for an afternoon family gathering or last night because we had training class (more on that later), but if the heat is bearable, we'll try again tonight. This kind of experience and exposure is proving to be even better for Mabel than I'd hoped. When she has these kinds of breakthroughs, I feel like my chest will explode with happiness for her. This isn't just about making her more adoptable; a life with less fear is simply going to be a far better, happier life for her.