Kim Kavin - Little Boy Blue

Copyright 2012 by Kim Kavin.

Foreword copyright 2012 by Jim Gorant.

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means without the written permission of the copyright owner.

All Inquiries should be addressed to:

Barrons Educational Series, Inc.

250 Wireless Boulevard

Hauppauge, NY 11788

www.barronseduc.com

Some names have been changed in this book to protect the privacy of the individual/organization involved.

ISBN: 978-0-7641-6526-9

eISBN: 978-1-4380-8350-6

First eBook Publication: September 2012

Library of Congress Catalog Card No: 2012012685

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication

Kavin, Kim.

Little boy Blue : a puppys rescue from death row and his owners journey for truth / by Kim Kavin; forward by Jim Gorant.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7641-6526-9

1. Dog rescueUnited States. 2. Animal sheltersUnited States. 3. Euthanasia of animalsUnited States. I. Title.

HV4746.K38 2012

636.08'32dc23 2012012685

For the ones who can still be saved.

Our values are defined by what we will tolerate when it is done toothers.

William Greider

Nothing is inevitable unless our inaction makes it so.

Ronald Regan

Contents

Foreword

The first time I walked in on my wife I think we were both a little embarrassed. I had arrived home early from work and stepped into the kitchen without making much of an entrance. When she finally heard me, she turned quickly, a shocked look in her eyes and a forced smile on her face. She used her body to shield the computer screen from view, and I had the creepy feeling that Id just walked in on someone surreptitiously surfing for porn.

I had, although there was a twist. This was doggy porn. The URL on the browswer was that of Petfinder.com and on the screen was a full-body shot of a coquettish little Labradoodle who looked back over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye. Isnt she cute? Karin said, and I nodded in a way that signaled assent without commitment. Wait, she said. Look at this one, and began navigating across the site with an ease that made it clear shed been at this for a while and it wasnt her first time. At that moment one thing became abundantly clear: We were getting a dog.

The possibility didnt exactly come as a surprise. It had been a topic of conversation around our housesometimes relentlessly sofor going on two years. Upon turning nine, our daughter had embarked upon an all-out campaign to bring a little furry enthusiasm to our family. The program consisted of continual asking, alternating promises of both doggy upkeep and household diligence, bartering, pleading, stomping, and the occasional moment of used-car-lot dissonance when she would look across the table and say, Okay, whats it gonna take to make this happen?

When we had recovered from the image of our little girl some day hawking Gremlins and Pacers in a gravel lot next to a strip mall, Karin and I could empathize. We loved dogs. Wed each had them growing up, and part of us wanted to get one now. Part of us didnt.

We both have busy jobs, we live in an old house that requires a lot of attention, and our two children have active lives that demand our participation. Its a great life (no complaints here), but its a pretty fast-spinning carousel of train schedules, car pools, pickups, dropoffs, laundry, dinner, practices, games, Home Depot runs, doctor, dentist and orthodontist appointments, book reports, and so on.

As much as we liked the idea of a dog, we knew the reality of it would only add to the insanity. The kids insisted that they would take care of everything, walking and feeding and cleaning up the poop in the yard. Friends of ours suggested that it would teach them responsibility. We werent buying that. For starters, wed both been on the other side of that exchange. Wed made those promises as kids and the dogs that our parents had bought us suffered at our lack of follow-through. We knew that if we got a dog, we were taking the responsibility. If the kids helped out great, but we werent going to count on it.

Our conversations on the topic always led to a place where we agreed it would be nice but probably not smart. If you really wanted to, I would do it, Karin would say. To which I would say the same thing. And there the issue sat.

Except for one thing. At the end of 2008 I wrote a story for Sports Illustrated, the magazine for which I work, about the dogs rescued from Michael Vicks fighting operation. The story wound up on the cover, and I was soon approached about turning it into a book. I finished the manuscript in January 2010 and let Karin read it before turning it in. The book, The Lost Dogs: Michael VicksDogs and Their Tale of Rescue and Redemption, exposed the brutality of dog fighting but was largely an account of resilience and compassion that highlighted the connection between dogs and people.

It was shortly after Karin read the rough draft that I started to catch her looking at dog listings online. Our daughters campaign hadnt abated, and sometimes Id come home and find the two of them sitting in front of the computer together looking through the listings. Have I shown you the pictures of Fluffy or Lucky or Baby or Stumpy?became a regular question around our house. Somehow, though, our debates about the topic led to the same conclusion.

Until they didnt.

Finally, in early spring Karin admitted what had already become increasingly clear to me: She wanted a dog. After the book I had written there was no doubt we would get a rescue. But if my research and talks with so many in the animal-rescue community taught me anything, it was that most adoptions go wrong at the start, because people either set their heart on a breed that isnt right for them or they devote one day to the job and come home with the first dog that touches their heart.

For us, the process wasnt about finding a dog, but about finding the dogwhich meant the one that was the best fit for our family. We made up a list of ideal attributes: adult, housebroken, low- to medium-energy level, and ideally a non- or low-shedding breed. And while we didnt want a big dog, we didnt want one of those bedroom slippers with legs, either. I felt a bit like the Goldilocks of dog rescue, but I figured that was better than being Little Red Riding Hood.

We started looking in earnest. We attended adoption days at pet stores within a thirty-mile radius. We visited shelters. We continued to comb Petfinder, filling out applications and sending e-mails about dogs that seemed like they might be right for us. We came close a few times, but for one reason or another we couldnt make a connection. With our daughter heading off to camp and a family vacation to follow, we suspended our search for the summer.

In September, my book came out and became a New YorkTimes best seller. The flurry of interviews that came along with the success inevitably included the question: So what type of dog do you have? An awkward pause followed while I explained that we didnt have a dog, but we were working on it.

About a month later we identified a spunky-looking Schnauzer mix at a rescue called For the Love of Dogs about an hour away in Westchester County, New York. He had a lot of the qualities we were looking for, although at six he was a little old. Karin and I filled out the online forms, and after wed been approved we drove up to visit.