Crunchy Parents, Crunchy Pets

Zoe the day her neighbors showed her
to us. 

Two years ago on July 4th, we welcomed a new member into our family. Today, we highly recommend pet ownership if you can do it in the greenest way possible. Having a dog is like throwing your own welcome-home party every day after work. Nowadays if she spending the day with our friends, it is lonely to come home without such an enthusiastic pal to greet us. But it wasn't always such.

Zoe- our special-blend canine- was about three months old then and had been abandoned, tied to a fence, when her family moved to Tennessee. A pack of problems, having spent a few days there without food and water only as neighbors brought it to her, Zoe had come to us a mess. Found on the fourth of July with no place to hide from fireworks and in a bad neighborhood, she was scared to death. She was not sick or hurt, instead, Zoe was an emotional wreck.

Our landlord had nearly panicked when we told her about Zoe, but she met her before approving our decision and Zoe was still absolutely shell-shocked and panicking. Having a Native American husband, she seemed to have a very respectful view of animals in general and believed the pooch may have been "sent" to us. This did not stop her from dropping off her dogs old kennel on our stair case with a command from on high, "use this, or all three of you can find a new home!"

Zoe and I the day after she came
 home with us. 

Our intentions were for obedience. But, Zoe would not be kenneled, as some dogs grow to love. Each time we left her she would embody the goddess Kali and destruction would ensue. Friends, pet store owners, and websites told us different ideas to try.

Just put her favorite toy in the kennel. (She actually forced the toy out of the kennel, so bent on liberation she was.) Leave her a small bowl of food and she'll be distractor. (She knocked over the bowl, managing to leave almost all food underneath it, as if to say, I don't NEED this!) Cover the kennel with a blanket, so it doesn't look like a fence. (We came home to an apartment filled with shredded blanket strips.) Place a shirt you have worn in the kennel for her to smell. (Same fate as the blanket.) Put it near a window so she can see outside. (She chewed the window sill off and got a splinter in her face.)

She would spend the entire time of our absence reeling in emotional despair, unable to cope with the unfair nature of her rescue, and thoroughly annoying our downstairs neighbor. And the worst part was, even with all of these measures, she was still escaping the kennel (after destroying things only, of course.) We tied it shut with rope, then her thick leash, then clamped it with carabiners, then with chains. Each day, we would return to an open kennel and an absolutely-thrilled-to-see-us puppy. Each day, she seemed to put herself at more risk to get out than ever.

We had tried everything hippies might try as well, Rescue Remedy flower essences, aromatherapy, even a mother-dog hormone scented plug-in. And we'd spent countless hours sitting in the kennel with her. Mark and I would demonstrate sitting properly in the kennel, placing each other in it for her to watch. Each time she just looked at us with a look that said- better you than me.

Weeks had gone by. The crying had upset the landlord and downstairs neighbor, and Zoe had injured herself every day trying and succeeding in getting out of the kennel. Finally the day arrived. We knew it would. Our landlord had needed something from our apartment and come in to find a closed kennel, an excited dog (who instantly peed at her feet), and a chewed windowsill.

Cue the phone call.

Next we tried a kiddy fence, which served only to momentarily confuse the dog. I swear she still looks at it like an algebra problem.

Then we tried something a little bit unreasonable. We put the kennel away. We stopped listening to pet store owners and friends and websites and even landlords. And we let Zoe be herself.

Zoe and Siena, our new kitten, near the Mac book. 

Sure there have been a few moments since when Zoe has made us regret our decision not to kennel her, but we have made a decision to accept some things as they are. She will never be allowed to beg at the table, pee on the floor, or chew up garbage or underwear. But she's never going to be forced into a cage again. Any body who ever said animals don't have a personality is insane. Zoe is her own canine, and to exist with any living creature with unbending rules seemed unfair.

And it turns out it is true- the evil puppy years do end at 2 years old- almost exactly.

Thankfully.

Zoe at two, full of emo-sass.