Friday, August 7, 2009


Sometimes, I just can't figure out why a dog ends up in a shelter. Okay. All the time. I can never figure it out, but with Chase, I really don't get it.

Chase is a sweet Sheltie who really isn't cut out for shelter life. The noises, the people, other dogs, cats - what are cats?! - it's just not for him. He'd much rather be at home with his doggie siblings, a few kids, a ball or two to fetch, and maybe a comfy dog bed to curl up on at night.

But not a shelter. Oh, noooo.

The first few days were awful for this poor fellow. He didn't eat a thing, he huddled in a corner shaking, and he wouldn't approach anyone. Every little noise sent him jumping and shaking more - if that was possible.

Sweet as can be, he never acted aggressively towards any of us. But he wouldn't take any kind of food from us, either, which was concerning us. Eventually, he took turkey from one volunteer that he recognized after seeing her for a few days. Then, one night, he greeted me with a tail wag - big improvement from huddling in a corner - so I went into his room, closed the door, and put his food bowl right in front of him. I started whispering sweet doggie nothings (nonsensical gibberish to calm him down a bit). He ate! I was thrilled beyond repair!

Chase is typical of his breed; my Aussie would react the same way under the same circumstances. But that's part of the beauty of his breed. They're always watching and learning, waiting to see who's around the corner, who can be trusted, and who will be a friend.

UPDATE! Chase hits it big!

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