Velcro Beau

Reprinted with permission from Chicken Soup for the Soul.

When I first saw him, he looked worried. His furrowed brow and uncertain eyes gave his regal face a haunted look. I would come to know that this was a dog who was spooked by change until he got his bearings. And that day his world had been turned upside down.

The large German shepherd had been running away on a regular basis. He always showed up at a neighbor's house where they played with him and fed him--and eventually called his family, asking them to come and get him. Sometimes when the family showed up to retrieve him, they were rough with him. The neighbors noticed that the dog never seemed too excited about getting into their truck. And lately he hadn't been looking well. His coat was rough and he was losing weight.

One day, when they called the dog's family to report his whereabouts, the family said they weren't coming to get him. They'd had enough; the dog was on his own. Fortunately, the neighbors called a friend who was a volunteer at the shelter where I also volunteered as dog-intake coordinator and breed-rescue liaison. She took him home and then called me.

As I drove up to my friend's house, I saw her sitting on the porch with her children. The dog was sitting on the porch, too, but wasn't interacting with any of them. Instead, he was scanning the street and sidewalk with nervous eyes.

He was a stunning dog, in spite of his worried expression, rough coat and emaciated frame. I was told he was a little over a year and a half, still a pup by German shepherd standards. He was very tall and would be an imposing creature once he filled out. I had never handled a dog his size and was intimidated at first. But, aside from being agitated at the strangeness of his surroundings, he seemed perfectly friendly and readily jumped into the back of my car.

My plan was to take him to the vet for an exam and then take him to the shelter or arrange for him to go to the nearest German shepherd rescue group. But first I thought I'd stop and show him to my husband, Larry, as he'd grown up with German shepherds and loved the breed. (Over the years, I'd heard many stories about his favorite dog, Marc; none of our rescued mutts could compare.)

When I opened the back door of the car and the shepherd leaped out, he immediately loped over to my husband. After a cursory sniff, he lost interest and began exploring the parking lot where we stood. We watched him, and I could tell Larry was impressed. He turned to me and said, "I want him."

I was surprised. We already had three dogs - an occupational hazard of volunteering at an animal shelter--and Larry often complained that the household dog population was too high. Plus, this dog was huge--it would be like adding two more dogs to our menagerie! But I didn't argue; I was pleased that Larry wanted a dog for himself.

So Beau joined our family. It wasn't easy at first. He had physical problems that made it difficult for him to gain weight. He was too skinny, yet couldn't digest any fats. His digestion was, to put it mildly, finicky. All that was certainly difficult, but his behavioral problems were even more troubling.

Continued on page 2: Would Beau stay?... »