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Fanciers of Akitas were among the first groups to realize
that shelters and humane organizations needed help. They organized to rescue
Akitas that needed additional help to find new homes. The term "rescue"
has now come to encompass any group that specializes in placing one breed
of dog, and the dogs they help have become known as "rescue dogs."
Some regions are fortunate to have dedicated
rescue workers who have a network of foster homes or boarding facilities;
others may have only one person who provides information and works with
local shelters. The one thing they all have in common is that they always
have dogs to place. Many more are listed with local
Akita rescues.
Except for puppies which are seldom available,
rescues may have Akitas of all ages, males and females. Many people are
afraid to adopt an older dog because they think the only reason people
give up a dog is because it has some terrible problem, like a lemon used
car that gets traded in at the dealers. Nothing could be farther from the
truth.
The reasons for people giving up their
dogs are as varied as the dogs themselves. Many families relocate and are
unable or unwilling to take their dog with them to their new home. A divorce
may have the same affect, with both parties moving into apartments that
may restrict the size of pets. Another common reason dogs end up in rescue
is the owner who buys an Akita the same sex as a dog he already has. When
the dogs don't get along, the one that goes is the newer one.
The decision to buy a dog is often a very
emotional one, so that people who buy a cute puppy on a whim don't always
give much consideration to what life will be like with an adult dog. They
don't think about the fact that dogs, like children, need education and
experience to cope with life. When their cute puppy turns into a 100 pound
dog that sheds all over the house or jumps on them every time they go out
because he's bored and lonely, they decide that he's too much trouble.
Through no fault of his own, the dog ends up in rescue.
These are the lucky dogs. The unlucky ones
are abandoned at their former homes, left tied in a yard, or dumped out
of a car and left to fend for themselves.
Some of these dogs have gone through training
classes, almost all are housebroken, and most will have been sterilized
by the shelter or rescue. They have had health checks, temperament evaluations,
and vaccinations. Rescue workers often know something about the history
of the dog and can tell you about his virtues and any problems he might
have. In fact, adoption may be contingent on your meeting certain conditions,
such as no other pets, only female dogs, no cats, etc.
Rescues do have adoption fees but these
are usually much less than you would pay for a puppy, and since the rescue
dog is grown, you can tell a lot about him. Very few have papers available,
but if you are interested in participating in AKC performance events like
obedience or agility, you can obtain an indefinite listing privilege. AKC
will provide the information on how to proceed (info@akc.dog).
One of the saddest types of irresponsible,
heartless owners is the one who decides to solve his unwanted dog problem
by dropping his dog off somewhere in the country. Babs Land of Cedarbrook English Cockers, said in a post to Showdogs L, "I assume
the owners go home and imagine the dogs cavorting across the fields, playing
happily instead of the true picture of a dog either killing or being killed
by other pack animals, being run over by a car, or dying of hunger, thirst,
or disease.
"I was given this poem many, many years ago,
and over the years I have placed copies of it in feed stores, vet
offices, humane societies and even the grocery store bulletin board. I
don't know the author, but am certain that anyone who felt so strongly
about this subject would be pleased to know their work was being shared
and perhaps saving one dog's life.
The Waiting Dog
by K Flood
A dog sits waiting in the hot midday sun;
too faithful to leave, too frightened to run.
He's been there for days now, with nothing to do
but sit by the roadside waiting for you.
He can't understand why you left him that day,
he thought you were stopping to go with him and play.
He's sure you'll come back and that's why he stays.
How long can he suffer? How many more days?
His legs have grown weak, his throat's parched and dry,
he's sick now from hunger; he falls with a sigh.
He lays down his head and he closes his eyes,
Oh, I wish you could see how your waiting dog dies.
I Found Your Dog Today
I found your dog today. No, he has not been adopted by
anyone. Most of us who live out here own as many dogs as we want, those who do
not own dogs do so because they choose not to. I know you hoped he would find a
good home when you left him out here, but he did not. When I first saw him he
was miles from the nearest house and he was alone, thirsty, thin and limping
from a burr in his paw.
How I wish I could have been you as I stood before him.
To see his tail wag and his eyes brighten as he bounded into your arms, knowing
you would find him, knowing you had not forgotten him. To see the forgiveness in
his eyes for the suffering and pain he had known in his never-ending quest to
find you...but I was not you. And despite all my persuasion, his eyes see a
stranger. He did not trust. He would not come.
He turned and continued his journey; one he was sure
would bring him to you. He does not understand you are not looking for him. He
only knows you are not there, he only knows he must find you. This is more
important than food or water or the stranger who can give him these things.
Persuasion and pursuit seemed futile; I did not even know
his name. I drove home, filled a bucket with water and a bowl with food and
returned to where we had met. I could see no sign of him, but I left my offering
under the tree where he had sought shelter from the sun and a chance to rest.
You see, he is not of the desert. When you domesticated him, you took away any
instinct of survival out here. His purpose demands that he travel during the
day. He doesn’t know that the sun and heat will claim his life. He only knows
that he has to find you.
I waited hoping he would return to the tree; hoping my
gift would build an element of trust so I might bring him home, remove the burr
from his paw, give him a cool place to lie and help him understand that the part
of his life with you is now over. He did not return that morning and at dusk the
water and food were still there untouched. And I worried. You must understand
that many people would not attempt to help your dog. Some would run him off,
others would call the county and the fate you thought you saved him from would
be preempted by his suffering for days without food or water.
I returned again before dark. I did not see him. I went
again early the next morning only to find the food and water still untouched. If
only you were here to call his name. Your voice is so familiar to him. I began
pursuit in the direction he had taken yesterday, doubt overshadowing my hope of
finding him. His search for you was desperate, it could take him many miles in
24 hours.
It is hours later and a good distance from where we first
met, but I have found your dog. His thirst has stopped, it is no longer a
torment to him. His hunger has disappeared, he no longer aches. The burrs in his
paws bother him no more. Your dog has been set free from his burdens, you see,
your dog has died.
I kneel next to him and I curse you for not being here
yesterday so I could see the glow, if just for a moment, in those now vacant
eyes. I pray that his journey has taken him to that place I think you hoped he
would find. If only you knew what he went through to reach it...and I agonize,
for I know, that were he to awaken at this moment, and (if) I were to be you,
his eyes would sparkle with recognition and his tail would wag with forgiveness.
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