As I park in front the Oakland Animal Shelter in this warm and sunny November day, I have a doubt. We want to resolve the behavior issues of our dog by getting a second dog. What if this doesn’t work? By the way, how did it come to this?
Our four-legged friend, an American Eskimo named Biela, suffers from separation anxiety. It manifests itself as destructive actions in our absence, from the chewing of various items when we leave her inside the house (furniture, wedding shoes, and even a cell phone) to the rampaging of flowers and the digging of escape tunnels when she stays alone in the garden. Although we love this white fur ball very much, her propensity for mischief is causing too much stress in our lives. We need to do something about it. We’ve experimented various training methods to curb her compulsive urge to destroy: all of them failed miserably. There is only one thing left to try: getting Biela a friend to keep her company when we are not at home. Our solution for reducing collateral damage is to give her a sidekick. In gambling lingo you call this ‘double or nothing’.
Before pushing the door to the kennel area Mai turns to me and repeats her non-negotiable criteria: “No pitbulls. No big dogs.” I nod and we step into a world of barking, whining, wagging and jumping. The strong perfume of industrial detergent doesn’t quite hide the scent of canine hair, urine and feces. Even emotions bring their own smell: fear, entrapment, craving for love… “Pick me! Get me out of here!” shouts every animal. Some yap, some howl, some hop, some stand-up on their hind legs, all try to get the visitors’ attention as if their life depended on it. The truth is: it does.
Mai stops and points at a cage: “Have you seen this one?” Lying on a cot, a massive mastiff-like hound seems impervious to the surrounding ruckus. Mai kneels down. The dog’s large head rises slowly. He looks at her with the soft eyes of a gentle giant. She touches the metal bars of his cage. He leans forward and licks her fingers.
She melts.
A shelter volunteer takes the big dog out to the yard for a private encounter. His adoptive name is Bongo and the Oakland Police found him wandering in the streets of city during a night patrol. When the cops dropped him off at the shelter the animal was a bag of bones, he had probably gone many days without food. Patiently the staff nurtured him back to health and put some meat on his bones. He still has sharp protruding hipbones and I can count the ribs on his wide and skinny chest. Perched atop this weakened body, Bongo’s massive head seems out of proportion.
As a kid I grew up with a French Mastiff called Orloff. This dog was buffed, heavier than me and almost as tall. Despite a grouchy and rebellious attitude with adults, he was my gentle and caring guardian angel. I sometimes would feed him a piece of kibble, holding it between my tiny fingers, and he would pick it up delicately with the tip of his lips. No wonder I have a special place in my heart for big dogs.
I’m ready to take Bongo home right now but before making a decision we need to introduce Bongo to Biela… to check if they get along well. At the dog park our little Eskimo likes to play with males bigger than her so I’m hopeful.
The next day we return for the ‘play date’. A shelter volunteer takes Bongo out to the meeting area. The two dogs totally ignore each other. They walk around, sniffing the grass, oblivious to each other’s presence. I feel the weight of disappointment: I wanted them to get along, to play together. The shelter woman explains that this behavior is actually a good sign: it means they accept each other and neither of them feels the need to assert dominance. Blessed be canine psychology!
A little time and lots of papers later, Bongo is officially part of the Brehaut family. Mai proposes to name him ‘Manly’ because his color reminds her of the sands of Manly beach, Australia. It’s so appropriate for a dog whose chest and shoulders evoke a very masculine character. On the way back home I ask: “Didn’t you say ‘no pitbulls and no big dogs?’”
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It’s been two weeks since we adopted Manly. When we come back home after work we sometimes find both dogs fast asleep on the lawn chairs. They spend hours wrestling playfully in the backyard. Of course Manly is physically stronger than Biela but the hunk often pretends to fall on the floor, flips over on his back and lets his girl have the upper hand.
Manly the gentle giant has won Biela’s heart, and ours.
Cedric, 12/24/12 (Biela met Manly in winter 2007)
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