Kathy Callahan - 101 Rescue Puppies: One Familys Story of Fostering Dogs, Love, and Trust

Contents

Of course, it was because of a dog that Tom and I got married.

It was also because of a dog that we almost did not.

I had taken my puppy, Ben, to our happy place, Lincoln Park on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC, when Tom came walking through. He was heading to a Rolling Stones concert, but he couldnt ignore the gorgeous Bernese mountain dog bounding over to him. He looked up, we recognized each other from college, and he asked for my number.

That summer, my dog had been my sole trusted companion. I was feeling skeptical about the human race, after one of its males had let me down rather dramatically. Puppy Ben and I were living in a fantastic little carriage house in the Eastern Market neighborhood of DC, and that dear dog was coaxing me joyfully back into the world. Our walks took us to the lawn of the Supreme Court, the gardens of the National Gallery, the steps of the Capitol. Back in our cozy house-for-two, he was never more than a foot away and always meeting my gaze. I was utterly content.

A few blocks away, Tom was living with... wolves.

How does a guy end up living blocks from the Capitol with two wolves as pets? It starts with an ad in the Washington Post offering a wolfy-looking pup. That drew Tom to visit the litter out in Virginia, where he was intrigued by the pitch about the wolf dad and German shepherd mom. Yes, he later learned that wolf hybrids are not a good idea, but at the time he was all in. He brought little Shadow home.

The next year, amazingly enough, Tom wasnt the only clueless, single thirty-year-old guy on his block with a wolf hybrid. Right across the street was Dave and his beautiful Mojo. (Our current Mojo is named in part for her.) In a move that makes us shudder now, Tom and Dave enabled Shadow and Mojo to become parents to nine adorable pups.

All of this explains how, when I ran into Tom, he was living with two wolf-dogs: Shadow and his puppy daughter Kela. On our first date, I thought it was odd that Tom kept saying, We should get our dogs together to see how they get along. After all, my perfect little Ben had always gotten along with every dog he met. Tom and I were both inexperienced owners at the time, and it showed.

Date number three was to be a frolic with our dogs at Stanton Park, where locals brought their dogs to play off-lead. I arrived early with Ben. Then came Tom, with his two jet-black wolf hybrids. In one instant, shocking to me, Shadow made a beeline for eight-month-old Ben. There was yelping in fear (my boy) and fur dangling from a mouth (his boy).

I remember no details only my fury. Tom, however, recalls me glaring at him as I stomped off, seemingly forever, saying, Well, it could have been nice. That sounds about right. Sure, Tom was a tall, dark, handsome athletic charmer who was scary smart. But the choice was clear: My loyalty was to my dog.

The next day, Tom and Shadow had the Talk. Based on expert advice at the time, Shadow ended up at the vet to be neutered. Two months later, Shadow and Ben still couldnt comfortably be in the same place. Toms gesture had brought him back into my good graces, but the reality was that we had a big problem.

Tom and I had only just started dating, but we were already in counseling: dog counseling. We worked with a trainer, walked as a pack, and took the dogs on controlled expeditions together. It was my first serious foray into dog training, and I was hooked. It was interesting, it was fun, and it was rewarding. After months of careful interaction, it worked.

So, Tom and I got married.

Thats us on our honeymoon with Kela, Shadow, and Ben. (What? People dont take their dogs on their honeymoon?)

We wanted to start off on an adventure, and Toms career gave us the perfect opportunity. He took his African affairs expertise from Capitol Hill and turned it into a job with an American NGO supporting the new democracy under Nelson Mandela in South Africa. Our honeymooning little family Tom and I, plus Ben, Shadow, and Kela moved to Johannesburg for an experience that turned out to be extraordinary in just about every way. (Since this book is about dogs, I wont digress into stories about lions, elephants, and baboons, but boy, could I.)

It didnt take us long to notice that our house was just a few miles down the road from the South African Guide-Dogs Association for the Blind. Of course we visited, and we learned they were looking for puppy raisers. We met the latest litter of squirming, jumping, cuddling yellow Labs. We figured that kind of charity work socializing puppies, getting them ready for the training center was right up our alley. We agreed to take a new baby, Piper, figuring there was no way this extra pup would feel a part of our own pack, so it wouldnt break our hearts to send her on her way later on.

We figured wrong.

Adored by all five of us, Piper quickly became a happy focus and a glue for our fledgling blended pack. A year later, when the Guide-Dogs Association lady came and took our darling, mystified Piper away, Kela howled for hours at the gate. It was devastating. With Piper gone, it was just so quiet. We tried to rest in the good shed be doing, but we couldnt help but think about how happy she was surrounded by our big pack. In my darker moments, I let myself picture the worst-case scenario: Piper sad and lonely, spending long days with a blind guy who didnt really care if he had a dog or a cane...

Two months later, out of the blue, the Guide-Dogs Association called and left a cryptic message. My heart leapt. I called back, and the woman explained that Pipers mom had developed epilepsy, and in case it was genetic, they had to remove the entire litter from training. Then came the delightful shocker: Since Piper couldnt be a guide dog, they were offering her to us, since wed been her puppy raisers.

Glee doesnt even begin to describe our reaction. I should note that in the intervening months, I had given birth to our first human baby, Grace, and still Pipers absence had loomed so large that it all hadnt felt quite right until just that moment.

With that magical phone call, the last, key ingredient to our original pack was delivered to us.

Ben, my soul-mate dog: my rock, my protector, my joy. Always at my side, both of us happy with just that. Even as our pack grew to include so many others, we both knew that he was mine and I was his.

Shadow, who took only a quick twelve years to mellow into a wonderful dog. During those first dozen years of barking and escaping, Toms constant, loyal refrain was, Even when hes a bad dog, hes a good dog. I was so busy with the kids in those years that I think I failed to notice much of that good. However, in what we thought was Shadows twilight, we adopted a new puppy, Zoe, and Shadows positive side blossomed. Challenged with guiding the future of the pack, Shadow was reenergized. As he tutored puppy Zoe, he emerged as a calm, wise, dare-Isay deep leader. I will be forever grateful that he lived to be seventeen. Those extra five years utterly transformed my understanding of that beautiful soul.

Kela: Ethereal, wild, incredibly feminine Kela was out of this world. As Tom tells the story, when a dog trainer came to evaluate Shadows puppies, he picked up Kela, took a moment, and finally said, I cant rate her. It sounds nuts, but the guy was on to something. She was all-knowing. Whenever youd glance at her, youd notice she was already looking at you, with impossibly intelligent golden eyes. When shed run through the woods, I swear she didnt touch the ground. When our babies were on a rare crying jag, Kela would give us a piercing stare: What is wrong with you that you cannot soothe this pup?