Project Peanut

Project Peanut

I’m strolling through new holding, (this is the “newer” part, of the 76 year old animal shelter), and where most of the dogs reside, as they wait their turn to go up for adoptions, and catch up on their vaccinations, and spay/neuter.

The dogs are up-in-arms about something.

A new arrival, I assume.

As I pass NH9, I see movement.

NH9 and 10 have screens half-way up the steel door, for protective purposes, so I can’t really see the dog clearly.

As I approach to kennel, he darts to the back of the kennel and has a panic attack, a total freak out.

“It’s cool man,” I say, “take a chill”.

Whatever the opposite of “chill” is, that’s what this dog was.

Stay away from me!

His posture spoke for him.

I’m scared.

“Don’t worry man, this is a good place.”

How do I know that?

“You just have to trust me.”

But I don’t know who you are.

“That’s fair, but I don’t know who you are either.”

Good point. Stay away!

He cowers in the corner.

“Have some water and rest up, you’re safe now.”

I sure hope so.

“Be back soon,” I say, and promise to return.

When I did return, this sneaky little Beagle would play the ‘jack-in-the-box’ game.

I’d approach the cage, he’d dart to the back, panicked.

Stay away!

“It’s okay man, it’s just me.”

Stay away!

“Okay then,” I’d say, and walk away.

Slam! He slides into the cage door.

Don’t go!

“What’s that?”

Don’t go!

“Okay,” I’d say, and approach the kennel.

He’d dart to the back, and freak out.

“It’s okay man, you’re fine.”

I don’t know you!

“Sure you do, it’s me.”

Who are you?

“I’m here to help you, help you find a home.”

(Seemed quite doubtful at this point)

Stay away!

“Okay, but I’ll be back.”

I’d go to leave, and he’d come to the front of the cage again.

We’d play this game for a bit, eventually I’d go, because there is always more work to be done in kennels.

“Next time I’m petting you.”

Good luck!!

Petting him?

Good luck is right.

You touch the kennel door, he’d freak out.

You let him outside, through the sliding door, and he’d never come back in.

Became a more frustrating version of the ‘jack-in-the-box’ game.

“Peanut, get in here!”

He pops his head into the kennel, grabs the blanket, and pulls it outside.

Eventually I found a trick where I’d grab a large Kuranda bed, and use it to guide him inside the kennel, then use it to cover the door so he couldn’t come back out.

Worked like a charm.

Then came the time to take him out, see what he was like outside the kennel, and in the pen.

Are you nuts!

“Come on out, it’s great out here.”

No way!

“It’s cool, come on out, you can eat some grass.”

I’m not coming out!

“You sure? Maybe next time,” I’d say, and grab the blue Kuranda bed, and put him back inside.

The trick to getting him out became, me opening his kennel door, walking away, then opening the pen door, and using a rock to prop it open, and then at the opposite end of the pen, sit in a chair and wait.

He’d scramble out from behind the gate, pinned to the ground.

He’d sniff a bit, notice me, freak out, and run back to his kennel.

I’d wait.

He’d come back again, sniff more, see me, back he goes.

At this point, I start discussions about Peanut with our Canine Trainer, Mel.

I take her to the back pen, and show her the Peanut trick.

Works like a charm.

He works his way up to sniffing my hand, before freaking out, and back to the kennel.

Problem is, at this time we lose Chico (Chico had been nicknamed google, because he had google eyes like a puppet), when he escaped from outside Adoptions. 

The gate had shifted and a space had formed big enough for the little white rascal to escape, and out he went, onto the train tracks.

How did Chico survive those days and nights out in the swampy train yard?

I believe he survived because no one ever gave up on him, and he didn’t give up on himself.

Chico inspired me to not give up on Peanut, because though the progress with Peanut was slow, it was gaining momentum, and with Mel, and the other kennel staff working with him, he started getting more confidence and attention, and he loved it.

Turned out he was a total attention hound.

Well, really just a silly beagle, but a goofy, lovable dog, and a warrior who overcame so much fear to where he is today, available for adoption.

These animals are so inspiring, every day, so I just try, in my own little way, to make their day better, every time they see me.

Play, walk, kisses, treats, repeat.

Most shelter dogs are happy with this routine, and it helps them become more adoptable as they become more social, and more comfortable with us.

Peanut did the hard work, we just helped guide him, by showing him that he could trust us, and that he was loved.

My theory was that if he could bond with one person, he could bond with two people, five people and so on.

Project Peanut was a group effort, and I’m so thankful for everyone who helped him along the way. 

Peanut is a silly little beagle, who puts a smile on my face, every time I see him.

Thanks to everybody who cared, and to those who continue to care about all the shelter animals.

Every animal has a brighter future, thanks to you.

Here’s hoping for a happy, forever home, with lots of love and snacks, for this sweet little dog.

To be continued...

January 14, 2013