Dog Rescue: A Cast of Five

After six and a half years in dog rescue, which I have minimal-to-no involvement in at the moment, I thought I’d compile the cast of characters who often occupy a rescue organization. I’m sure you’ll find many of the same types in your workplaces, as most are volunteers and earn money elsewhere. While well-intentioned, if the structure of the organization isn’t very well maintained or established, which is often the case in rescue, all of these types end up being a pain in someone’s ass at some point. If you sprinkle a little mental instability over them, and combine it with a lack of structure, you get the following cartoon-y archetypes:

The Lap
The Lap is there to cuddle dogs. She wants to sit with a dog, cuddle and pet it, and call it a day. She’s not concerned with much of anything else. Often clueless. You may find yourself approaching The Lap and muttering things like, “Could you please move your chair? You’re sitting directly in front of the donation jar.”

When asked to do something, like maybe clean up some pee, or get up and do anything else, The Lap will  start up with herky jerky movements, leash of dog in hand, not sure of how to stand since there’s a dog in her lap, as if she’s never done anything but sit there up to this point in her life. She usually figures it out after a few minutes.

 The Pat on the Back Addict
The Pat on the Back Addict doesn’t like to do anything without effusive praise afterwards. Will often passive aggressively fish for praise. Example, will post on a message board: “Did someone get the five dollar bill I put in the donation jar this Saturday? It was green, had Abraham Lincoln on it, and my name written across it in permanent marker. Please let me know if you saw it and if it’s been deposited. Maybe we can use it to buy some more dog treats since the ones that I previously bought seem to have disappeared.” Does usually wear pants, though.

The Basket Case
The Basket Case is highly volatile and takes everything personally. If a foster home, will say things like, “But Peanut can’t go to a home without a DVR, he gets so nervous during commercials, I think something bad happened to him in his last home when a Swiffer commercial was on.” Then, will turn around and say, “Why did that lady who looks like me and has good manners get turned down for a dog? Our standards must be way too strict if we didn’t let her have one.” When explanations are made, will fly into rage, call people terrible names, storm out of rooms, then become upset that no one takes her seriously.

The Big Idea
The Big Idea comes up with elaborate, grand schemes that are often not thought through and don’t really work in a small organization filled with burned-out people. “I think we should bedazzle the names of every dog on their collars! It will be a good identifier, and will spruce things up and encourage adoptions!” When someone (usually the Wet Blanket) points out that we don’t have any money in the budget for bedazzling supplies, often responds with, “You hate the dogs!” If given permission to do Big Idea as long as she figures out how to do it herself and gets her own help, project often fizzles, and The Big Idea will express surprise about how long bedazzling takes.

The Burned-Out Wet Blanket
The Burned-Out Wet Blanket is hated by all other types. She’s generally a downer. She does a lot of work, and so therefore has a low tolerance for people who don’t do much work or new ideas that will cause more work. Often heard saying things like, “And exactly who is going to do xyz?” Her chit chat with other people consists of correcting something they’re doing wrong, often in passing (literally), which makes it even more bitchy to those being corrected. Saying things like “I don’t think I can do this much longer” is taken by others as a threat, for some reason. She’s really a nice person, or used to be, before her workload enveloped her like a dark beast. Ok, fine, yes, I was the Wet Blanket type.

 

How to Keep Your Weird Wife Happy and Informed

1. When her beloved TiVo breaks, and you have to get out the ancient VCR, help with the transition:

2. While watching Dr. Who, season 6, if your weird wife is having a hard time visualizing timelines, help her out with a hand-drawn diagram. Important: Before you come to your senses and help her in the friendly manner you excel at, stating that “It’s not that hard to figure out” is not the best first approach as it will unleash an expletive-filled verbal lashing. While she does understand you don’t mean anything by it, it’s still kind of an assy move.

3. On a weekend, when you all have planned to see a movie, like you do every weekend, and you’ve looked up all the showtimes and ran down everything that’s playing and even sometimes looked up all the reviews because your weird wife is also a weird lazy wife, get your day started off right. Since your weird wife doesn’t trust her own memory when it comes to time, write everything on her hand so that you don’t have to answer the same question 10 times before it’s time to leave. Hand is best, she will misplace paper.

Dear dogs, peeing in the rain is not illegal, I looked it up.

Dear Jenkins and Ed,

While I certainly understand that a gray, rainy, soggy day sucks (I’ve been in a bad mood for a month partially because of the weather), neither one of you will use a toilet. And, if I were to introduce you to the concept of a litter box, you would consider it more a buffet than a bathroom. So, we are left with sticking with what works most other days of the year – you both need to pee and poop outside.

I’m writing you this letter at noon, which means you have refused to pee for well over twelve hours now. You are both boy dogs, you LOVE to pee on things – if you had eHarmony profiles, it would be one of the first things you listed under “likes.” I KNOW you have to pee, don’t look at me like I’m insane when I force you outside.

I would like to remind you both of the following facts:

Jenkins – you lived your first 8-9 months of your life chained outside in someone’s backyard. I’m sure it rained. Several times. Did you melt? No.

Ed – you lived your first several YEARS most likely a semi-feral country dog who has been shot at with bb guns and were most certainly rained on.  While I have applauded your spirit and willingness to rise above your past and become a couch dog many times, I do feel the need to point out that my asking you to not pee in the house is not akin to your homeless rural beginnings.

This is the deal: if you both suck it up for fifteen damn seconds and go pee on the side of the house for all I care (and I know you can do it because I’ve seen it happen), I will stop shoving you out the door every twenty minutes. Then, you can stop acting like I’m twirling my mustache and planning on taking over the world somehow by forcing two spoiled dogs to get their tootsies wet. Those ASPCA ads were NOT made for dogs in your current situation, as much as you’d like me to believe that.



Sincerely,
Carrie

Writer’s Block

Introduction.

  • Scooting your chair forward with conviction does not, unfortunately, release a waterfall of hilarious and revelatory prose. Poopcakes.
  • Scratching your head does nothing but qualify you for a dandruff shampoo commercial.
  • Pacing only increases the risk of tripping over your cat.
  • Staring at the wall only leads to noticing cobwebs and spots you missed while painting.
  • Going to play Words with Friends, getting 60+ points for the word “puked,” and then glancing around and beaming proudly at no one, doesn’t get any juices flowing.
  • Going to play Words with Friends, seeing your opponent got 60+ points on the word “divinity” on HER FIRST MOVE, glancing around and tearing up at no one, also doesn’t get any juices flowing.
  • Swaying and spinning around in your kitchen singing “up, up and away in my beautiful, my beautiful balloooooon!” doesn’t work. But, it does cause dog excitement.
  • Staring blankly at the screen produces nothing, but it DOES help me remember that I turned the iron on over an hour ago and should probably do something about it.
  • Fuck it. I’m writing about writer’s block.

Conclusion.

A Cold is Coming. Set the Place on Fire!

You know what’s strange about catching a simple cold? The fact that my body tries its hardest to convince the germs that it’s a bad real estate investment – too much of a fixer-upper to bother staying. And, of course, every single time, the cold decides it’s too good a deal to pass up.

What this means is that I actually feel worse when my body is fighting it off than when it gives up and lets the cold run its course. That’s not true when I catch something truly shitty like the flu or strep throat, but a simple cold leads to what seems like an overreacting freak-out.

Simple Cold Germs: Can we stay here a couple of days?

My body: Set the place on fire!

SCG: Seriously, it’s just three days or so.. Maybe a runny nose, some fatigue, but for the most part, you’ll still be funcional.

My body: NO! Antibodies – start rapidly stabbing the throat and neck area, everyone to the lower back – jump up and down on the spine, alternate rapidly between freezing and burning up. Make this place unhospitable!

SCG: You guys, there’s no need to do all this, we just need to crash a couple of days, it won’t be that bad.

My body: Turn her inside out! Make her feel like she’s going to have to be replaced with bionic parts!

SCG: How can a female body be such a dick hole? Why won’t you just let us hang out? We’ll leave when we find a new place.

My body: Ugh…so…tired…from…overreacting…don’t have a choice…must let cold stay.

SCG: Why? Why was that so hard? Now she’ll feel sick for five days instead of three. Where’s your bathroom?

My body: Up in the face near the nose.

I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. No, I didn’t study Biology, I majored in English, why do you ask?