For those that have been following along, the obvious question after last week’s post about Baxter’s baking attempt is why was the dog in the house instead of the dog run? Wasn’t your plan to let him stay outside when you’re not home?

Well, that was the plan, but you may have heard the saying about the best laid plans…

The dog run was not a hit.

We started slowly in the summer, trying to have Baxter spend just a few minutes in the run.

The first time he didn’t even make it a minute. It turned out the gap between the gate and the fence was big enough, and our dog is strong enough that he could push his way out.

I adjusted the hinge, tightened up the screws and closed the gap.

It didn’t work. Bax braced his shoulders and still pushed his way out.

Plan B was a second latch at the bottom of the gate. The result of that was a tunnel.

Look at the happy dog, free at last.

Plan C was a mesh base that Matt and his Dad wired to the fencing along the perimeter of the run.

I buried the mesh in dirt and then covered it all with a layer of wood chips. The result of that was more excavation and another demonstration of Baxter’s strength–this time in his teeth. Look at how he tore the mesh.

Moving on now to plan D. I added patio slabs over the mesh in front of the gate where Baxter most liked to dig.

This worked for a little while and we managed to make it up to about 3 hours in the run at a time.

But as we headed into the fall, neither of Matt nor I was really comfortable leaving Baxter alone in the run all day when we weren’t there. He loves being outside, sniffing all of the smells and watching all of the birds and animals, but he hated the run. We weren’t confident that he’d still be in there when we came home at the end of the day, and, most importantly, we didn’t want to stress him out all day.

We tried leaving him alone in the house, and he seemed to do okay, so we decided to go with that plan.

We did revisit the run on the Day of the Skunk. I’d given him a bath and kept him on his long leash outside all morning, but I had to come up with a better solution when I couldn’t put off going in to work any longer. I chose the run. I took the long leash and snapped it onto the fence just in case, gave him his kong full of kibble and a big dish of water, latched the gate and drove away.

I came home to definitive evidence that the run was a big fat #fail. The mesh was completely torn, the fencing was bent, the rocks that I’d used to fill previous holes were exposed and a new tunnel was dug.

Because of the long leash, the dog was still in the run, but we decided it was for the last time.

Now, Baxter is completely an indoor dog. He spends most of his time snuggled in his bed.

Although he does occasionally take advantage of being home alone to bend the rules.

What do you mean dogs aren’t allowed on the furniture? Matt gets the couch. You have your chair. This one’s mine.

We haven’t tried a crate, and our fingers are crossed that Baxter continues to do okay on his own in the house. If his baking urges return, we do have a separate mudroom where he could spend the day.

Does anyone else have an escape artist dog?

I lost the dog.

So an alternate title for this post could be Matt’s and Julia’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

We’d had an amazing week last week. He’d been to lots of new places, had lots of new experiences and been a shining star in all of them. The Canine Good Citizenship test was seeming much more attainable than I originally thought.

Saturday, he’d walked off leash with us, back over the fields out to the woods. I snapped the leash onto him when we headed into the forest, but once we were done with our hike, I let him walk freely back to the house. He trotted around and sniffed, but followed us home with no problem.

Buoyed by his stellar behaviour, on Sunday morning I grabbed the leash but decided not to put it on him for our morning walk. He waited at the front door until he had permission to come out. He took two steps down the driveway but turned around and followed me when I headed in the opposite direction. He ran past me and part way down the lane to the back field, but changed direction when I called him and he saw that I was going across the other field. He ran into the field, but quickly settled into his usual trot, looking back over his shoulder every so often to see that I was still there.

As we neared the end of the field, I called, “Baxter, wait.” And he stood still like he usually does and waited until I caught up to him. I said, “Good boy!” and he headed off trotting again. At the corner, we came to a junction where three fields meet. He waited for me to find out what field we were going to, and then he trotted off on his tour of the perimeter.

I was ecstatic. He was the best behaved dog ever. This was exactly what I envisioned when I thought about getting a dog. I was so happy that he was able to range freely and sniff as he wanted.

At the bottom of the field, there’s a marshy spot and the perimeter does a bit of a jig-and-jog. Baxter, who was trotting ahead, disappeared around the corner, hidden by the tall grass. I had a moment of, “I wonder what my dog is doing. I hope he doesn’t find a trail to follow and take off when I can’t see him.”

I came around the corner, and he was standing there, looking over his shoulder waiting for me to catch up.

We continued on, making our way around the second and third sides of the field. There were lots of areas where I could see that a deer or a turkey or some other animal had walked through the long grass between the fields. Baxter sniffed most of these trails but kept up his patrol, sticking to the mowed area inside the field.

Then, at the last corner, he didn’t. I had made the turn and was walking along. He stopped to sniff. Our routine had been that I’d keep walking, he’d sniff his fill and then come trotting along passed me. This time, he followed his nose into the long grass, trailing whatever delicious scent had captured his attention.

I called him, but as soon as I realized he wasn’t going to come, I headed after him. He was in my sight… and then he wasn’t. There was a fence. I had a minute to puzzle over how he’d got through, but I couldn’t find a gap, so I quickly climbed it (tall wire fence + short woman wearing shorts = not a good combination).

On the other side of the fence, I plunged into the woods behind our closest neighbour’s house and found nothing.

No sight of a sleek red-brown dog. No jingle of his tags. No paw prints in the mud. It had been maybe 10 seconds, and he had disappeared.

I circled through the woods calling his name in my happiest voice. I headed up to the neighbour’s house thinking he might have returned to civilization. Nothing. I headed back through the woods and discovered an open field where a turkey was having his breakfast. Given how placidly he was munching until I barged in, I concluded Baxter hadn’t come that way.

I thought I must have misread Baxter’s direction and maybe he headed north instead of east or south. I cut back over to our front field. No sign. The dogs across the road were barking. Maybe he ended up over there. No. Just people looking at a calf and dogs ticked off that they weren’t getting the same attention.

I went home, trying to figure out what I’d say to Matt.

“I don’t have him. He went into the woods. I couldn’t find him. I don’t know where he is.”

“Are you joking?”

“No, I mean it.”

With speed rivaling any fireman, Matt pulled on his boots, grabbed a leash and headed out.

I changed into long pants and grabbed my car keys. My plan was to drive down the road and if I didn’t see Baxter hike into the woods and work my way back to Matt. We did that, and when we met up we were both still dogless.

Matt came up with a new plan. I would head back to the house in case Baxter came back on his own. Matt would keep looking.

I drove home, scanning the trees alongside the road for any sign of Baxter. Back at the farm, I headed out across the fields again, retracing our steps from the morning and calling his name. I found the end of the fence line where he must have gotten through, heard a few barks that I thought might be him (although he’s a very quiet dog, so they were likely just wishful thinking on my part) and that was it.

I headed home, hoping that a furry fellow would be curled up on the front stoop as he likes to do. No such luck.

Deciding that it was best to stay outside, I went to work pulling weeds on the turnaround. I kept calling his name and scanning the fields, hoping that I’d see him happily trotting along. Ralph came out to offer her comfort. She doesn’t like Baxter, but she still likes me, so she saved her happy dance for the privacy of the barn and gave me cuddles and purrs.

I pulled weeds and kept repeating my mantra, “Matt will find him. Matt will find him.” I envisioned Matt and Baxter walking together, Baxter safely on a leash. I castigated myself for my arrogance in walking him off leash when I know he’s lazy about coming when I call him. I envisioned telling my family, friends, coworkers and you guys that he was gone. I wrote mental blog posts. I pulled weeds.

After two and a half hours, I looked down the driveway and saw Matt and Baxter, walking along just as I had envisioned them (reenactment below).

I ran down the driveway, threw myself into Matt’s arm (the other one was busy holding the leash) and burst into tears.

My husband is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Many times, this annoys me. However, when you need someone to walk around for hours and hours searching for your lost dog and not give up until he finds him, Matt’s stubbornness is his best quality.

If this story had gone a different way, this post would have been a picture of an empty collar that we bought over the weekend for Baxter’s birthday. I was going through the adoption paperwork the other week, and I found a note that Baxter’s birth date is September 5. We decided that we really should replace his dirty and faded foster collar with something that could measure up to his own handsomeness. We hadn’t put it on him when he headed out on Sunday, and while I was searching one of my thoughts was, “If somebody finds him, I hope that awful collar doesn’t make them think he’s not cared for and loved.”

Happily, this post can still be a birthday post… albeit in a very roundabout way. Here is Baxter, safe at home and handsome in his new collar.

Happy birthday, fellow. The second part of your birthday present is a flexi-leash to be used only on field walks. The third part will definitely be those training classes I was planning on.

Today is one month since Baxter came to live with us. Even though he’s obviously hoping that his natural ninja skills have rendered him invisible, I wanted to put the focus on him today to write about how we’re adjusting to our new lives together.

I’ve read that it sometimes takes a few weeks with a rescue dog to see their true personality. I’m not sure if we’re there yet with Baxter, but I have seen some changes since we first adopted him.

Food: When he first came to us, Baxter was not what I would call food motivated. He scarfed down his breakfast and dinner, but he really didn’t care very much for treats. When I gave him a kong the first time, he was pretty disinterested. It was just too much work to get the kibble out of the toy. I persisted, giving him a kong full of kibble before giving him the rest of his breakfast, and after a few days his enthusiasm increased noticeably, and he emptied the entire kong–a momentous occasion. He’s a little more enthused about treats and even his kibble now. He’s also extremely enthused about hotdogs, which we’ve been using for some training.

Training: I wish I knew more about his background, because Baxter has obviously had some training. He knows he’s not allowed on the furniture and aside from a couple of weak efforts the first couple of days doesn’t try to climb on the couch or chairs. He’s housebroken. He knows sit and will now plop down when we snap our fingers. He’s very good on the leash, sticking by our sides when we walk. He does like to follow his nose sometimes, but usually the slightest tension on the leash as he falls behind or pulls ahead moves him back to our side. He’s pretty good at stay too. He doesn’t seem to know down, and come continues to be a problem. I think he knows it, and we’ve practiced it lots, but he likes to amble and sometimes he has better things to do altogether. Occasionally he seems a bit stubborn or disinterested in obedience, even for commands he knows. We’ve gone back to basics working on eye contact when we say his name, which I think will help.

Energy: Baxter is a low energy guy and tends to spend his days dozing as much as possible. I take him for a 20-30 minute walk in the morning, and then Matt usually does a long walk in the afternoon. In the evening we’ll sometimes do another short walk or a ramble in the fields. Depending on his mood, we may do “zoomies” dashing and chasing around the yard. Whether it’s zoomies or toys or a ball, Baxter usually loses interest after a few minutes and goes back to lying down.

The run: The outdoor dog pen is not a hit. So far, it’s been an opportunity for Baxter to demonstrate his determination as he comes up with yet another way to escape. He doesn’t run away. He just comes looking for us. Dude does not like to be alone. He’s fine if one of us sits in the run with him or even if he can see us puttering around outside, but once we’re out of sight, the whining starts and the escape follows soon after.

The cats: Ralph, Easter and Baxter are getting along… like cats and dogs. More than anything, Baxter wants to be friends. However, Ralph has declared them mortal enemies. She’s also obviously told Easter a few big bad wolf stories. Our playful little kitten, while slightly more curious, is no more warm and fuzzy than her mother. Easter came close the one day, but rather than letting Baxter sniff her (and okay, a big, wet tongue may have been heading her way too) she chose to hiss and claw. And as soon as the cats take off running, Baxter is compelled to give chase, even if he’s been sitting quietly up to then.

Social skills: So far, Baxter has not met a person or a dog he doesn’t like. We take him to the park when we play baseball, and he lays quietly on his long lead while we’re on the diamond. We go on group walks with our vet clinic, and he’s very friendly with all of the other dogs and people. We’re very vigilant around other dogs still, but so far he’s been very polite. He meets everyone, but he’s usually not that interested in playing, so he just sits down by himself once he’s sniffed enough. I would like to see him be a bit more playful, but a more important next step is working to help him understand that just because there’s a new person or dog around, he doesn’t automatically get to meet them.

The issues: The one issue that I’ve seen develop over the past month is a bit of an attachment disorder. We’ve left him alone a few times, and he’s been fine on his own in the house. However, he’s a little bit anxious about us leaving. Gathering keys or opening the front door often makes him get off his pillow to investigate, and occasionally he lays on the mat at the front door making sure no one sneaks out on him. Even staying on his pillow in the basement while we go upstairs to get a snack in the kitchen is hard for him. He seems to be slightly more attached to me than Matt, but company in general is most important to him. We don’t want to create any separation anxiety, so we are trying to not make a big deal out of comings and goings, trying to help him realize that if we leave we will come back, and trying to help him learn that he’s okay to be on his own.

The biggest thing that I’ve learned over the past month is that I am absolutely a dog person. Matt and I have been waiting a long time to bring a dog into our family, and I’m glad that it finally happened. Baxter seems to be a good fit for us. I just hope that we’re good for him too.

You all heard from Baxter himself earlier this week about what life has been like since he came to live at the farm. Now it’s my turn to talk about his life before and how he came to be ours. (Brace yourself for another long post).

Here’s his story as we were told by the woman who fostered Baxter:

Baxter lived in Kentucky. His neighbour’s chickens started disappearing, and they blamed Baxter. They threatened to sue Baxter’s owners unless they got rid of him. Baxter’s owners also kept chickens, which he never bothered, but his owners got rid of him anyways. They surrendered him to a high kill shelter. I don’t know how long he was there, but when that shelter was over capacity, it put out a call to rescue organizations in the U.S. and Canada asking them to take some of the dogs before they were euthanized. Baxter was one of the dogs who was rescued. Apparently, when dogs are shipped, they usually ride in crates in the back of a truck. Baxter arrived sitting up front beside the driver, which tells you about his good nature.

For three weeks, Baxter lived with his foster family, which included other dogs, cats, bunnies and kids. He got along great with everybody. His profile was posted on Petfinder, and that’s where we saw him first.

Matt and I started looking for our dog at the end of June. We went to the local SPCA and Humane Society and didn’t find anyone who was going to be a fit for us. We knew we wanted a rescue dog, but we didn’t want someone who had a whole lot of issues or was super hyper. This is not too much to ask when adopting a rescue dog. There are lots of great dogs out there, so make sure to take your time and find the right one for you. Our biggest debate was on size: I wanted a bigger dog and Matt wanted a smaller one.

Searching online through Petfinder worked really well for us because we could specify what we were looking for. For those that don’t know, rescues and shelters from all over North America post adoptable animals on Petfinder, so in one central place you can see hundreds of dogs (or cats or other animals) who need a home.

When I was looking for Baxter, I never searched by breed or gender. Age (young or adult), size (medium or large–hey it was me doing the searching) and the “my household has” section (cats, kids and dogs–not that we do, but I wanted a dog who was good with all three) were my usual criteria.

When Baxter showed up on my screen, he sounded perfect for us. I emailed the woman who was fostering him, and she wrote me back right away and confirmed that he was easy going and “a really awesome boy.” She encouraged me to submit an application through the rescue, so I did.

The application process was pretty involved. The form was very long and asked lots of really specific questions: What type of food were we going to feed him? Were we going to take him to a trainer? If so, what was the trainer’s name? Under what situation would I ever get rid of a dog? Why did we want a rescue dog?

I was completely honest on the application, talking about our barn cats, how long we were at work during the day and that we don’t have a fenced yard. Since our application, I’ve read a lot about how many rescue organizations are very strict and won’t adopt dogs to people with outdoor cats or without fenced yards, but I found our rescue organization to be very reasonable, and fortunately my honesty did not result in our disqualification (more on that later).

The rescue also asked for three personal references, contact information for our vet so that they could confirm how we take care of our other animals, a phone interview and a home visit. Not every rescue follows this process. This was simply what ours required. It may seem like a lot of hoops to jump through, but I respect their requirements because I do feel that they wanted what was best for Baxter.

From my initial email to the rescue to completing the preliminary screening took just three days, and then on Saturday, day four, we got word that we’d been declined.

I was extremely upset.

The only red flag that was raised through the whole screening process was the outdoor run that we planned to use for him when we weren’t home. The people at the rescue were adamant that they do not adopt dogs to be outdoor pets, and they were concerned that Baxter could not tolerate cold winter days outside.

I felt like Baxter was the one for us. So I asked to be reconsidered. I promised that Baxter could stay indoors, and we wouldn’t subject him to severe weather. All Saturday afternoon and into the night, I had to stop myself from obsessively refreshing my email–I limited myself to checks every half hour. Sunday morning, we woke up and we still hadn’t heard back. Finally, by late morning, I found a phone number and called the rescue. They had just approved us. There will be follow up visits to make sure Baxter isn’t outside when the weather is inappropriate, but he was going to be ours.

The afternoon was spent again obsessively checking my email, waiting for word from Baxter’s foster family that we could come get him. Finally, late in the afternoon, he was ready. Matt and I hopped in the car immediately.

Our first meeting with Baxter at his foster home was very brief, which in hindsight may not have been the best for determining that we were actually meant for each other. But in that brief meeting he was everything we had been told. We saw him with very little children. We saw him with a very little kitten. We saw him with the family’s other dogs. He met us and was very polite, if a little reserved. He definitely knew something was up. We signed the adoption agreement, handed over our cheque and took all of his paperwork and vet records. The woman who fostered him gave us a box full of food and treats and walked him out to the car. He hopped into the backseat, and he was ours.

Since then, Baxter has lived up to his easy going reputation for the most part. At home, in the car, on walks, on outings, inside and out, he’s pretty well-behaved. He’s still adjusting and wants to do things his own way sometimes. He’s gotten pretty attached to me, so we’re working on helping him realize he’s okay being on his own. We’re still adjusting too, and I know we’re making some mistakes. I’m sure my desire (obsession) to make this relationship work is contributing to his attachment disorder. We are all working hard together to overcome our issues. I am pretty confident that the three of us are very happy that we found each other–I know the two two-legged ones are.

A couple of notes:

• About chickens: Yes, Matt and I want to get chickens someday. However, that day is probably a few years away still, and I’m not going to pass on Baxter on the chance that he might have issues with chickens. If it turns out that he does, we’ll deal with it then.
• About the outdoor run: Yes, we are still hoping to use the outdoor run when we’re not home. It’s my opinion that the run is a better place for him than a crate or shut in a room in the house. We’re working slowly with him, making him spend about an hour a day in there by himself so that he can get used to it. He’s turned out to be a very stubborn, dedicated escape artist, so I cannot say he’s used to it yet. The good news, I guess, is that he doesn’t run away once he gets out. He just comes looking for us–the attachment thing again. The run includes a fully insulated dog house, which as the weather gets colder will be filled with straw and have a sturdy flap on the door. If the weather is very severe or the run ends up not working out, we will have a place where he can safely spend the day indoors even if we’re not home, as I committed to the rescue.

During the screening process with the rescue, we were asked a few times why we wanted to adopt a rescue dog. I find that a really difficult question to answer. I can tell you we’re not picky about what breed we have. I can explain why we didn’t want a puppy. I can say that we’re prepared to invest the time that it takes to help Baxter adjust to his new life. I can give you the pat “we feel like we can give a dog a good home” answer. All of those things are true, of course, but I don’t know as they sum up the answer of why adopt a rescue dog? I guess I would say, “Why not?”

Who else has adopted a dog? What was your experience with your shelter or rescue organization? Any tips on helping a dog adjust to his new home? Anyone have advice on dealing with separation issues or training a dog to stay in his kennel (big or small)? Baxter (and Matt and I) appreciate any wisdom you can share.