Probation? Are you kidding me? My foster mom and rescuer talked to me in the car the whole way down from Burbank to Huntington Beach. “You’re going to live with this nice man and woman, and they’re going to take good care of you,” they said.
Okay, that all sounded good.
“But you’re on probation for two weeks. That means if you don’t work out, they can give you back.”
Huh. If you look up the word in the dictionary (hey, we dogs can do anything), you’ll find probation means a trial period, a test. So were these new people saying they didn’t know if they wanted me? I looked at my foster mom with the most pleading eyes I could muster.
“Don’t give me that sweet look,” she said. “I know what a little crapper you can be.”
I looked away. I knew it was true. I’d been in my foster home for four months and I’d put them through hell. Now I was being given a chance to prove myself worthy of adoption. Could I do it? Could I behave?
When we got there it started out okay, except that they have this really big dog. I wanted to show him I was going to be the boss (I know, I know, I should have let him retain his resident top dog status, but I’m feisty and wanted my own way), so I snarled and growled at him. He snarled and growled back. Everyone was standing around us and they seemed a little uneasy about what had just happened. That big dog has like 65 pounds on me, but I don’t care. I’d take on anyone.
Anyway, they pulled us apart. The new peeps said they’d watch us closely and would work with me. They said they knew it would take time to adjust. The foster mom and rescuer left after that. I could tell they had misgivings.
These new peeps watched me like a hawk, especially that first day, so I sucked it up and put on my best behavior. The home looked nice enough, and the people were nice too. But the second day, I’d had it with being good. I barked in my crate and reverted back to my tail-chasing ways, growling and snapping at my rear end as I spun around in circles. It actually looks and sounds pretty scary. The new people were told I did it when I was stressed. Hey, doesn’t everybody have stress? Wouldn’t you if they plunked you into a new environment and then walked out the door and left you there?
I don’t do well with change. Now I know why they said I was on probation. For some reason it’s so hard to be good. But if you knew my history, maybe you’d understand.