8 great reasons to adopt an adult dog

August 15, 2015 Kristen Carr

Puppies are impossible to resist. For that reason, they rarely have trouble finding a willing family to take them in. Once they are past just a few months of age, they start to loose their desirability. Are they tainted? How come nobody wants them? What did their previous owners do to mess them up? Are they aggressive? Are they ill-behaved? Adult dogs find themselves in shelters for as many reasons as there are dogs in shelters. The bottom line? When you adopt an adult dog, you'll have a much better idea of what you're getting into.

8 great reasons to adopt an adult dog

1. You'll know if you have an introvert or extrovert on your hands. Knowing what you're getting into in terms of personality is a great thing, in my opinion. Though when you meet a dog at a shelter, he may not show his full personality to you right away, you can get a pretty good idea as to whether there are any major deal-breaking issues so that you can figure out if the animal would be a good fit for your lifestyle and family. Puppies are all pretty much cute lumps of fluff, ready to be molded. That molding is a time-consuming task that doesn't always work out as planned. When you adopt an adult dog, you'll know if he gets along with kids, needs a great deal of exercise, or is fearful of loud noises, for example. You can choose your new family member based on what works for you. No surprises!

2. Potty training–check! Adult dogs are usually potty trained. It's true that some have not been properly trained in this area, but you'll know that going in. Rescues and shelters will generally know which dogs are potty trained and which aren't. If you don't want to go through the grueling process of potty training, an adult dog may be for you. No puppy comes potty trained.

3. Size matters. Unless you get a pure-bred puppy, the size your puppy may eventually be is pretty much a mystery. I can't tell you how many times a pet sitting client says to me "yeah...we didn't realize he'd be this big when we got him." Size may not be as important as temperament and activity needs, but if you are expecting a chihuahua and end up with a pony, it might make a difference to you.

4. They might know some stuff. Chances are, your rescued adult dog will come home knowing at least a handful of commands. Even if they don't, they have a longer attention span than puppies, so they will catch on quicker when you want them to "sit" and "stay."

5. Adult dogs aren't the time-suck puppies are. During the first year (and sometimes beyond) of life, puppies require near-constant supervision to make sure they are safe and behaving themselves, which is usually not the case, if left to their own devices. All that potty training and training training can be exhausting and can take up a ton of time. Adult dogs become acclimated to the house rules much faster.

6. They won't eat your couch. Teething puppies tend to gnaw on anything they can sink their teeth into. If proper chewing toys are not provided, they will resort to things you probably find valuable, such as your Jimmy Choos or your couch. Puppy proofing is often a trial-and-error process, and there may be casualties along the way. Though adult dogs still like to chew (and should for dental health), they typically know what is appropriate and what is not.

7. Health isn't a mystery. It is expected that senior dogs may come with a health issue or two, but when you adopt an adult or senior dog, you have a better idea of what you're getting into. You may choose to adopt an ill or disabled dog (extra hero points for you), but if that's not your thing, most dogs in rescues and shelters have been checked over by a veterinarian, so any health issues present are known. With a puppy, it's more difficult to determine because of the limited health history.

8. You get to rock a dog's world. Adult dogs aren't considered as cute as puppies, as far as the general population is concerned. Puppies go like hot cakes, because, who can resist the pudge and innocent eyes? But if you take time to think about what you might mean to a dog that is already grown up, well, you'd be a rockstar. They want homes. They want families. They want a rock star like you to make that happen for them.

Adult dogs in rescues and shelters come from varied backgrounds. They come in all ages, all shapes, and all sizes, and they have different needs. The common thread is that they all need homes. When you adopt an adult dog, you at least have a fairly good idea of what you are getting into, so there's a greater chance you'll find that perfect match–that BFF for life.

Have you ever adopted an adult dog? Will you please share your story?

Blog the Change for Animals: Lost Our Home Pet Foundation

April 15, 2013 Kristen Carr

Phoenix is one of the cities hit hardest by the real estate and economic crisis. The many who have lost their homes here can't always bring their animals with them, wherever they are going. Pet owners may be unable to support their animals, financially, and are at risk of surrendering them or abandoning them. Lost Our Home Pet Foundation has come to the rescue. "Our mission is to be a resource for real estate professionals and other members of the community who discover an abandoned pet, and to provide options for pet owners faced with difficult economic circumstances while promoting the spaying and neutering of pets," stated Jodi Polanski, founder of Lost Our Home (LOH) Pet Foundation. The organization was founded in 2008 "as a grassroots response to the thousands of pets in need as a result of the economic downturn in general, and the Phoenix-area foreclosure crisis in particular." Thousands of dogs and cats have been abandoned in yards and homes, surrendered, or underfed. Lost Our Home is the only organization in the Valley of it's kind. Not only do they focus on the animals they rescue from foreclosed homes or after evictions, but on the owners and the human-animal bond, as well.

LOH's programs include:

Food Bank: In these difficult economic times, sometimes even providing food for your pet can seem impossible. LOH understands the trouble pet owners are going through and takes pet food donations to individuals in need of assistance.

Temp Foster Program: Foreclosure or a forced move can prevent people from keeping their pets. The LOH Temporary Foster Program provides care for pets whose owners need to stay somewhere temporarily so that they can be reunited.

Pet Friendly Rental Program: LOH's realtor-volunteers help pet owners find pet-friendly rentals so they can keep their pets when they need to move. 100% of the commission earned (usually $200-$300) is donated to cover pet deposit fees.

Rescue Assistance: If pets are in need of immediate assistance, LOH helps to place pets whose owners are in crises up for adoptions or consider them for other programs.

To keep these programs up and running, LOH relies on the help of incredible volunteers and and donations of money and supplies for their shelter or food bank. The foster volunteers are one of their most valuable resources. The more foster families the organization can rely upon, the more animals they can save.

I asked founder, Jodi Polanski, to tell me about one of her most memorable adoption success stories. Though she had many tales to draw from, one recent adoption, in particular, was very dear to her: Shea.

Shea is a gorgeous male cat who has been through a lot. He was found as a newborn cowering under an oleander bush in Phoenix. Jodi explained, "his eyes and body were infested with fleas, and he was extremely ill. He was so young that he had to be syringe-fed, and it was not certain that his eyes–or life–could be saved."

Shea pulled through, but his chances of being adopted seemed slight. One of his eyes had to be removed, and he had limited vision in the other. "And he is black," said Jodi. "Black cats and dogs are often the last to be adopted and, if they are not adopted, they are often euthanized for space."

Shea beat the odds.

Shea's strong will to survive and loving personality won over everyone around him, and, finally, won over Travis and Michelle, who adopted him two years after he was brought to Lost Our Home. "I dreamt about him after we visited the shelter," said Travis, "so we knew we had to adopt him."

Shea is now happy and healthy, loving life in his new home with Travis and Michelle. But if not for the tireless volunteers, vets, and supporters of LOH, Shea may never have made it out of that oleander bush.

It's about compassion for animals, first and foremost, which is sometimes difficult and contested in such a time and place of economic crisis. When a family is struggling to feed themselves, and survival is the stress they hold every minute of every day, tough choices have to be made. Some families give up satellite TV. Some don't have electricity. Some are so desperate that they surrender or abandon their pets–their family members. Lost Our Home Pet Foundation has recognized a desperate need in our community and has taken action to help furry family members stay with their pack. And when that just isn't possible, they help the animals find new forever homes. The organization is an advocate and miraculous resource for so many animals and people.

LOH needs your help, and there are many ways do donate. Please consider helping. And if you're looking for a new addition to your family, consider pets who, through no fault of their own, are tragic victims of this crisis in our economy. Think about adopting a Lost Our Home pet.

This is a Blog Hop!

1. Targeting MD's Breed Specific Law - GoPetFriendly	2. Peggy's Pet Place- awesome teen volunteers	3. Blog the Change for Greyhound Rescue
4. Be The Change for Animals from Rescued Dogs View	5. How to Change the World in 30 Seconds	6. Bunny's Blog
7. Dead Dog Walking - Heart Like a Dog	8. Spine of the Continent	9. Pooch Smooches: My 1st Shelter Love
10. Stunning Keisha: Blog the Change 4 Animals	11. Blog the Change for Animals: Lost Our Home Pet Fou	12. Tails from the Foster Kittens
13. HumaneWatch reports on HSUS spending	14. FiveSibes™: Operation Roger Truckers Pet Transport	15. Dog Leashes: Be Aware of Dangers
16. Blog the Change: Volunteers Make the Difference	17. Save the Bees to Save Our Food	18. The Doney Memorial Pet Clinic
19. No Tail Left Behind - Tail Docking Truths Revealed	20. The Awesome Volunteers at Paws For Life, Inc.	21. Sunshine Coast Animal Refuge

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N.A.S.H.A., a profile

April 7, 2013 Kristen Carr

My husband, (Big) Brennen, is thankful that I am a professional pet sitter because it satisfies my craving to bring all strays home. Before caring for animals was my primary vocation, I wanted to adopt and nurse every living thing I came across, the canine variety being my biggest weakness. Although I still love to help animals, I have become a bit more practical and can now survive without making each one of them mine. In September of 2005, just two months after we relocated to Phoenix from California, I found a little dog. B, my then-eight-year-old step-son, was my willing accomplice in acquiring her. We entered a local pet store innocently enough. All we needed was food for our dog, Kermit. A rescue group had set up shop, so I couldn't resist checking out the goods (I've since learned not to go to pet stores on adoption days). They had only pit bull terriers, as far as I could see, all sweet as could be. The rescue volunteer explained that all of them had come from the gulf coast area, part of the Hurricane Katrina aftermath. During that time and for many months afterward, homeless and displaced animals were sent around the country in search of homes. B and I soaked it in.

There was a sharp, quiet scratching sound that didn't seem to belong. Something coming from a small crate on the floor. I bent down and was startled to see an adult rat in the crate. A very active rat...bouncing around in a blur. "She came from the gulf, too, with these bigger guys," explained the volunteer. "She can hold her own, but we have to keep her separate, just in case. She seems to really like you. Would you like to hold her?"

B and I looked at each other. "Okay." We were unified.

What she pulled out of the crate was not actually a rat, but the smallest, poorest excuse for a dog we had ever seen. She had golden wiry fur and needle claws. She wiggled so much I could hardly hold her. After a brief exchange, we put her back in her crate and thanked the volunteer. Off we went, in search of kibble.

Neither of us could resist one more peek before departing. It was a bit like a circus freak show. Such a tiny little devil, she was. As we approached for the second time, the scratching started again. "She really just sits there, usually," said the volunteer. "She really likes you." We observed her, but didn't take her out again. "It's like she's chosen us," B said.

I told the volunteer that we were interested in adopting her. What? Did that just come out of my mouth? I called Big. "No. No. No. Let's stop and think about this. No," is what he said.

I've never been one to take no for an answer. On Sunday, I called the volunteer, and she said she'd be back to the pet store on Tuesday, and she'd bring the little rat.

On Tuesday evening, we selected the tiniest collar and thinnest leash (so as not to drag her neck down), and then collected our new dog. "THAT'S IT?" Big said when he saw her for the first time. "No. No. No. That is not a dog. It's a rat. No." I reminded him that he'd already said yes. "But that was before I saw it," was the excuse he gave. "This is insane. No way."

Yes, way. We drove her home in my lap, Big shaking his head and sighing in disgust the whole way. "Fine. But I get to name her," he declared. Whatever.

He was decisive. "N.A.S.H.A."

"No, that's too princess-y," I argued. "You want a sissy name for such a little dog?"

"That's just the point," he said. "It sounds like a Russian princess, but it means something more. It's an acronym."

"For what?"

"Not A Siberian Husky Again." You see, all my husband ever wanted was a Siberian Husky, and I keep bringing home just the opposite. The uglier and more freakish the dog, the more I like it.

"Okay," I agreed. "N.A.S.H.A. it is."

N.A.S.H.A. did have a little bit of the devil in her. She was actually, truly, an ankle-biter. And she actually, truly, drew blood with her needle teeth. So we all went around sopping blood up off the carpet behind us. You could hold her sitting in the palm of your hand, yet she could do more damage to the veins in your feet than a knife attack could. Big hated her, but he bought her a little pink furry coat as winter approached.

And she then acquired a vital accessory: her forever collar.

We were living in a furnished apartment, waiting for our home to be built, when N.A.S.H.A. became part of our family. She was relatively potty trained, thank goodness. Despite this, a few weeks after she came, we kept smelling the very distinct aroma of dog poop in our master bedroom. We searched closets, corners, and under the bed. Sometimes the tide would swell, then fade again, but to some degree, it was always present. Big and I each accused the other of having a medical issue that needed attention, and each of us denied it.

One afternoon while we were making the bed, we lifted the box spring and it sort of fell back down onto the bed frame. We noticed a bit of dried poop under the bed. Unfortunate as it was, we had a sense of relief. At last, some evidence. We weren't nuts! Big went to dispose of the pile and noticed that there was a small tear in the fabric in the bottom of the box spring. Hm. Odd. He investigated to see how badly it was torn. When he did, another pile of poop appeared on the carpet below the tear. "What the f(¢%?"

He tossed the mattress and turned over the box spring (insert horror movie climax audio track). Our Russian princess had deposited her droppings inside our box spring, climbing up inside through the hole she created each time she felt the urge, then dropping back out, an innocent, for weeks. We both gagged. Words were said. The entire bottom fabric from the box spring was removed. We soon. Moved. Out.

Since that most develish and plotted act, N.A.S.H.A. has improved. In fact, you'd never believe it, but now, at nearly eight years old, she's become almost angelic.

She was spayed when she came to us, but she's still a mama. She has the heart of a mother and probably should have had her own litter. Several years ago, she nursed a family friend's tri-colored Collie. Mr. Shane. He travelled to see us for Thanksgiving, but he couldn't quite navigate the stairs to sleep with his mom. Though N.A.S.H.A. had never spent the night out of a human bed since she came to us, she chose to stick by him on the lower level, on alert. Whenever Shane tried to get up, she was right there, ready to break his fall, should his comparatively gigantic body falter. She accompanied him outside and to the water bowl. She didn't leave him alone for a moment. She knew the end was near.

She also attended to the babies when they were born, creating a bolster on their sides so they wouldn't roll off the couch before they could roll, and making sure they got their share of french kisses, helping to build their immune systems.

And for Kermit, she was a hero. Her older "brother" fell quite ill with Addison's Disease. She could sense if he was going to pass out, and she'd let us know by frantically scurrying around him moments before. And when Kermit developed a non-specific seizure disorder, she would lick his eyes for about forty-eight hours before his seizure cycle would begin. Her mysterious diagnostic abilities have amazed us.

In general, she's a ten-pound seven-year-old puppy of unknown terrier lineage. She's scrappy. She's yappy. She'll bark at the wind. She loves sprinklers, waterfalls, and water gun fights, but will only swim if her life depends on it. Her favorite toy is "sock toe," which is literally a sock toe that was cut off B's soccer sock for some long-since-forgotten school project. She throws it up in the air to herself and catches it, and the whole family protects it for her as one would a toddler's blankie. She punches me in the leg when she wants a treat. She always looks dirty and tangled, even if she's just been groomed. She loves to kiss on the mouth. If you come over, you will be hers. She will insist on laying in your lap or up against your leg, and she will demand to nuzzle in your neck. She prefers males. Especially Big. The guy that got her that furry little pink coat and the forever devil collar.