I debated long and hard about whether to write this. In the end, I decided it's important to let…read moreother dog owners with sensitive or shy/fearful dogs, know about my experience.
I researched dog training and day care programs for quite awhile before deciding that the "little dog resort" with what is termed "small batch care" might be a fit for my recent rescue, a 20 pound, sensitive mix, who came from an abusive background.
I worked with Bocce diligently, daily, even taking him through the Human Society's six week course for rescues and their people, before considering a dog day care. I thought perhaps one afternoon a week, two or three hours max, would provide him with socialization. He seemed ready for this next step after three and a half months of our daily work.
I was attracted to the on line description of the care they take. The few reviews were positive. I talked on the phone with one of the owners. It all seemed positive.
I took Bocce in for a 45 minute "assessment" after which we would discuss an action plan. Bocce went willingly into the facility with me, which seemed a good sign. A huge step forward for him.
A friendly young woman greeted us. I expected to be shown the facility, have a bit of time to discuss what they would do. But no. She took him from me, explained they prefer to do a quick separation from the owners. Removed his collar and leash in front of me as she took him into a small room where there were no other dogs.
"We'll introduce him, one at a time, to a couple of our calmer dogs," she assured me.
Bocce looked anxious as I made ready to depart.
"I want to remind you that as I mentioned in my notes, Bocce is a very sensitive dog. He's also a bit of an escape artist. He jumps fences with ease."
"We'll be fine," she said, "Come back in 45 minutes."
I left, feeling discombobulated. Thinking it was weird, but perhaps that's how it goes. I went directly to the grocery a quarter of a mile away to do a bit of shopping.
Ten minutes later my phone rang.
"Shit. He was too fearful," I thought. "They're calling to tell me to come get him."
I answered.
A woman spoke, "This is not a call an owner ever wants to make," she began.
My heart dropped
"Bocce has escaped," she continued. "He bolted out the front door when our staff was talking to someone who was lost."
"I'm sorry, but I don't need to hear another word from you," I interrupted, "except where was he last seen?"
"He crossed 42nd Avenue and headed down the street. I have staff out looking. I'm going myself but we don't know which direction he went."
I hung up and drove back to the 42nd street location, then began creeping along, with my windows open, calling his name. I got out every block, looked around. I spoke to two people but neither had seen a little while and red dog.
To cut to the chase, after nearly an hour of frantic searching, crossing Alberta, then Prescott (both also busy streets) fearing he'd be hit by a car or worse, I caught a glimpse of something white in some shrubbery on 36th Avenue heading into Alameda Ridge.
I slammed on my brakes. Jumped out. Called, "Bocce?"
And that little dog raced across the street toward me, jumped into my arms. A scene straight out of the Incredible Journey.
He was panting heavily, breathing rapidly, stressed greatly. I got back into the car holding him, finally allowed myself to cry.
It was a miracle that I found my dog.
So, this program supposedly specializing in fearful, sensitive dogs allowed one to escape within ten minutes of intake. You need to know that.
I emailed them after I calmed down to share suggestions for how to avoid this in the future. More than one staff person. Perhaps an intercom on the door rather than holding it open to hold conversations while dogs are in a holding area with a fence barely four feet high. Make a higher fence.
They were polite. They said, "Such things happen," which dismayed me. But then honorably offered to comp me into two classes with a private trainer of theirs who specializes in working with anxious an sensitive dogs.
I was grateful for that though the classes were two weeks away.
In the meantime, my dog showed serious regression in his confidence, trust, and didn't eat for 24 hours. He was that traumatized. Or, re-traumatized, I should say.
I wish I could tell you that the trainer was wonderful, the classes, too. But the truth is that due to some kind of "confusion" the trainer never showed up.
Three dogs (counting Bocce) and their owners, one a disabled older man, waited in the facility for 23 stressful minutes with no one telling us anything. I finally had a poor groomer, alone in the building, make a call.
"He'll be here in about 20 minutes, "she said.
We all left.
And again, the owners said, "These things happen" as part of their explanation.
I don't think they should.
