Adopting Elsie: Finding Dog Love on the Internet

           
I received her picture in mid-July 2006. It was emailed to me by a true angel; a dog rescuer who had plucked my future companion from what is essentially the pound of New York City, also known as Animal Care and Control, also known as the AC&C. One hour before certain death, one hour before scheduled euthanasia the rescuer soared up East 110th Street on the tires of an old blue station wagon and gave my love another chance at life.
           
Her current alias is Elsie. Of course this was simply the last in a list of epithets she had responded to throughout her different lives. The most wonderful thing about adopting a rescue animal is daydreaming about her rich history. This dog had been born somewhere I will never know; named something I will never know; lived among people I will never know.
 
Judging from her physical appearance (captured by a photograph taken at the AC&C) when snatched up from Manhattan’s streets as a wandering stray, Elsie had given birth to at least two litters. It is only conjecture, but the sad truth is this beautiful girl was probably bred and then tossed out, like a chewed-up piece of gum.
           
The picture was intended for a friend. He has a wife, a 10-year-old stepson, a nice house, and a good job, and was looking to add a dog to his family. So I forwarded Elsie’s picture to him. Within hours I got the gut-wrenching reply. His wife said plainly, simply, unwaveringly, "No." They had been anticipating the image of a soft, fluffy retriever or golden lab, which Elsie certainly is not. I double-clicked on the jpeg again and stared at the image of a red brindle /pit bull/ [breed link] posing with a giant toothy grin, big pink tongue sticking out like a teasing child, daring someone to adopt her, to love her.
 
Over the next couple days my attempts to find this beautiful dog a home via mass emails went unfulfilled. With every negative response I would reopen that file and stare at her picture, wondering what she was like and where she would end up. My mother had written, "She looks scary." I admit that back then I could see what she meant. I had no experience with pit bulls and that ignorance bred a fear stemming from media generalizations. Yet Elsie was so pretty and the wide grin seemed just that - a happy, friendly face.
 
Her dominant nature over other dogs (of which her rescuer had quite a few) made finding Elsie a home an urgent priority so I offered to foster her until a good home could be found. The face-to-face meeting was arranged for the next day. Hours before I would meet this special pup, I knew I would be keeping her. I had looked at the picture one too many times; stared into those eyes; examined every detail of that face. Even discarded gum has a way of sticking.

On July 19, 2006 we met. The rest, as they say, is history. Elsie is a special dog, like all those who survive shelter life. I wish I could take more credit for her well-behaved persona, but alas, she came that way, a complete package. She’s housebroken like no other; never going to the bathroom inside, yet never asking to go out. She barks enough to make people aware of her presence, but it’s a deep, healthy voice that’s easy on the ears and never overused. She’s never chewed on anything in the apartment and never takes food off the coffee table. She never nips, bites, or growls. After years of being a mom, she has reclaimed her puppyhood; bringing toys to anyone who enters and having a special affinity for squeaky plush and stuffed animals, which amazingly she never destroys despite her massively strong jaws.
 
Through her love of all people Elsie has affected not just my life but many lives. A homeless man gave her his scarf in front of the bus station (while I ironically worried about her catching fleas). The guy at the bank never hesitated to come out from behind his desk to romp on the floor with her, mindless of his suit and tie. So touched was he that through email with a teller he has inquired about her from his current tour of duty in Iraq. The tiny old lady wearing bright lipstick and pushing her shopping cart down 8th Avenue always says "Hello beautiful!" to Elsie; a "Hi" to me is merely an afterthought. With warm open eyes and gently wagging tail, Elsie draws people to her at every street corner. She easily has more friends than I do. My 8-month-old niece loves Elsie’s kisses. My mom is now her biggest fan.
 
Getting a dog can ignite an innate nurturing quality in a human being. Adopting a rescue dog does much more. In addition to nurturing, I rehabilitated Elsie physically and mentally. I had to earn a trust broken by an abusive or abandonment situation. Every time I rubbed ointment on her calloused joints, every time I shampooed her flakey skin, every time I returned home to her, showed her she had finally found a forever home.
 
As a rescue dog, Elsie tangibly shows gratitude, respect, and love. As the owner of a rescue dog, I find myself back in front of the computer screen once again - this time to help Elsie in her quest to touch as many people as she can.