This is an article I recently wrote for my village magazine The Heron (https://theheron.info/), and with it being Mental Health Awareness week I wanted to share some of my experiences, and also highlight an ancillary benefit to adopting rescued dogs, and that the someone you need to meet at the right time, isn't necessarily human.
I’ve always wanted a dog, but I’ve lived on my own for most of my working life, and also rarely been home long enough each day for it to be fair to the dog. I’d also battled depression and some serious suicide attempts over the past 30 years which culminated over two years ago in finally reaching out for the professional help I really needed to try and fix things.
As part of that process, I identified that I needed something more to life, a reason greater than work to motivate me. Sometimes there’s a synchronicity to life that binds the right events together. This first came from work when they indicated that I could work from home on a more permanent basis. They’ve been incredibly supportive throughout the years and I can never thank them enough for that. I’m very happy in my job, and they made changes to reduce stress where it made sense to do so. I made other smaller changes, and with these in place, a slightly less broken man continued repairing himself by looking for a dog.
Initially I searched for puppies and soon realised that not only had lockdown driven prices up to ridiculous levels (the lockdown also caused an ongoing crisis in dog welfare, you can read more here - https://gsdwelfare.blogspot.com/2022/04/the-pandemics-impact-on-our-resources.html), but also, I didn’t really know what I was looking for. Once again, a friend in the village came to my aid, and Ray put me in touch with Debbie.
Debbie lives in Marshland St James and is the chairman for the German Shepherd Dog Welfare Fund - a name that many of you who know me are now familiar with. We talked and she assessed a likely candidate from the dogs in their care who'd be a good match for me. And so, within a few days, I drove up Stamford near Peterborough to meet Wellington. In that first meeting I immediately grasped two things - the first that Debbie knew how to match a person and a dog together, and the second that I would do whatever was needed to bring this dog into my life.
On our first meeting Wellington was nervous, and understandably so, considering the life he’d suffered. He’s food motivated, and that helped immensely. Before adopting a rescue, you have to visit the dog a few times to try and make sure you’re compatible and the kennel owner Lawrence provided useful tips for taking care of him. You aren’t told much about the dogs’ lives before their rescue, but they do provide enough information to understand the life they’ve led and the issues we’ll face trying to give him a better life. Without expanding on the details (I did learn more about his past over time) of the abuse he suffered, I know that he’d lived in hell for most of his life. Without papers we weren’t sure how old he actually was, the best estimation was 8-9 years old, and almost all spent in the compound he and a number of other GSDs have been rescued from.
Over the next month I drove up every weekend to the kennels and walked him in the cold and we got to know each other. I prepared the house and garden, in particular ensuring a secure garden, ready to provide Wellington with a new home. My house and garden were duly inspected, and a few changes were needed as they’re smart and dexterous dogs and can escape in ways you wouldn’t expect from such a large breed.
As well as checking the home environment I also needed to demonstrate that I could identify what the dog would need, but also assessing my ability to work with the dog to provide training and support. Positive reinforcement training was emphasised, the days of dominating or fear-based training belonged in the past along with many dog-related myths (again a juicy subject for a future article).
Finally, the day arrived - a warm Saturday morning and Tony delivered Wellington. He remained extremely nervous for a few days. He had the roam of the house and made full use of it as he hid from me and I had to search and find him to give him food, or to take him into the garden. At that early stage he was kept on a lead even for just going for a toilet in the back garden.
Wellington (or more commonly now called ‘Wellie’, or ‘Little Dog’) remained nervous over those early weeks, and there were accidents to clean up. Sometimes I can be slow witted, and by the time the easy clean rugs arrived I'd taught Wellie how to let me know he wanted to go out and the accidents quickly ended!
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| Wellie still doesn't have any concept of toys, except for the one blue and white ball, but I keep trying different things, like this giant toy lion. |
I still have to walk through strange doors first - I’m his bodyguard, not the other way round. He has problems with his back end, which the breed can be prone to, but in Wellie’s case it was more directly caused by humans and their tool using capacity. Watching him dream can be heart breaking, so much so that if he was human, I’d have said he suffered from PTSD.
My life experience for the most part was nowhere near as traumatic as what Wellington’s suffered. Yet another’s worse experience doesn’t invalidate your own, but between us both we’re more comfortable with life. It’s a long journey, and far from over, and one we’ll walk together.
Michael Brookes
Thanks in advance for your generous support!
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