It All Started With A Red Doberman Rescue

12 Days of Rescue: A Doberman Rescue Named Winnie

Around this time of year nine years ago, I was about to plunge into dog ownership for the first time. I grew up in a home that didn’t allow animals in the house (except for a bird and hamsters–not really fun family pets). I was living alone in Chicago in a sketchy but “up and coming” neighborhood along the lakefront. This was it–I was an adult and I could get a dog if I wanted to and no one could overrule my brilliant decision! I was the queen of my third-floor, one-bedroom apartment domain. And so I considered the many canine options, trying to select my future BFF.

I had always loved labs; I used to dog sit for Char, a darling female black lab. Also, my sister had a sweet yellow lab named Hollywood. As much as I was drawn to the breed, I decided against a lab because living alone in a gentrifying neighborhood I thought it would be wiser to select a canine that would give a potential car thief/rapist/drug dealer/mugger pause. I thought labs had a reputation as a friendly, family dog. I couldn’t picture Hollywood thwarting a crime, but I could picture her wagging her tail and accepting anyone and everyone regardless of whether their intentions were for good or ill. No, a lab wouldn’t do. Therefore I decided on a German Shepherd, as they were smart, beautiful, and more intimidating than a lab.

This great idea was short lived when a friend who had a German Shepherd confessed, “As much as I love my dog, there’s just too much hair. I have to Swiffer constantly. Have you ever thought of a Rottweiler or Doberman?” I hadn’t, but filed that advice away as I pressed on, conducting more research.

Next I bought a dog breed book from Borders and pored over the profiles of low shedding, large dogs, that were adaptable to city life, keeping my eye on the pages with the Rottweilers and Dobermans. It seemed both Rottweilers and Dobermans fit the bill. We actually had family friends who bred Rottweilers but that was about twenty years earlier and they had moved away to Florida. I did a little more sleuthing and ruled out the Rottweiler as someone I spoke to who had owned one said they were good dogs, but a little bit stubborn.

One autumn day as I was mulling this all over, I stopped to pick up a burrito at Baja Fresh on my way home from the barn. A man sat outside with a gleaming black Doberman at his side. She sat as still as the Great Sphinx. Now, I’m not the kind of person who normally goes up to talk to strangers, but I walked past the dog and then turned around and walked back.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your dog? My friend suggested I consider getting a Doberman, but I’ve never met one before or have known anyone who’s had one.”

The gentleman said of course, and by the end of the conversation I learned that Dobermans tend to pick one person in the home who will become his or her special person. He said the dog was the family’s but she was partial to his wife. I asked if I could pet the dog, who had been sitting there alert, attentive, and had not wagged its tail or hung its tongue out. He nodded, “She’s friendly.”

I leaned down to stroke the back of her neck. She was very sophisticated: simultaneously warm and a tad aloof. The man said that Dobermans tend to be reserved when they don’t know a person. I thought that would be perfect since I had a few family members who were not fans of dogs (no names mentioned). I presumed a Doberman wouldn’t be intrusive, demanding of attention from someone who didn’t want to give it.

“We got her from the Illinois Doberman Rescue. My wife volunteers with the organization. It’s a good group. You can look them up online.”

And so I did. This was during my pre-husband Internet dating era. For about two weeks in between browsing profiles of eligible bachelors, I was also looking up Dobermans on the Illinois Doberman Rescue website.When I read over the online adoption application, I wondered if they had modeled their paperwork after actual child adoption papers. It was lengthy and detailed, asking about my job, my lifestyle, why I wanted a Doberman, what was my pet history,  did I have permission from my landlord, and when would I be available for a home visit.

I filled out the paperwork with as much care as if I were writing a college entrance essay. Following that, I had a home visit with a rescue volunteer; she deemed me fit to be a Doberparent and at that point I was free to “apply” for a dog!

A week later, after a few email exchanges with a Lynn, a Doberman Rescue foster mom who lived about an hour and a half away in Rockford, I got to meet and greet Winnie. I didn’t know for sure if she was going to be my dog, my first dog, but Winnie knew.

I entered the foster home a little tentatively; I felt like I was on a first date. I sat down on the couch and Winnie came over to me, rested her chin on my leg, placed her right paw on my thigh and looked right up at me. It was a look of adoration, longing, and intensity. I petted her and started talking to her, feeling a little silly plopped down in someone’s house I didn’t know, breaking the ice with a dog. Lynn suggested I take Winnie for a walk. I had only walked dogs alone a few times before, helping out friends. I had decades of experience walking horses, how hard could it be to walk a dog?

Lynn snapped a long leather leash onto Winnie’s black collar and out the door we went. Snow was everywhere, but the street was clear.  I walked Winnie down the block a ways, or I should say she walked me. Her auburn nose was pressed to the ground and she trotted in zig zags following a special scent. I hoped that none of the neighbors was looking out the window, or they would have seen a cartoonish woman with a long scarf flying out behind as she desperately tried to keep pace with a motivated dog.

We made it back to the house, and I stomped the bottoms of my boots at the door. As I leaned down to unsnap the leash, I said, “I’ll take her.” I left a check for $200 and set up an appointment to pick Winnie up to take her home the next weekend. I patted Winnie goodbye and told her I’d be back in a week.

And that is how the mutual rescue adventure began.

Question: Have you ever rescued a pet, or has a pet ever rescued you?

Since I adopted Winnie in January of 2005* Illinois Doberman Rescue+ has placed 5,000 pets in homes across Illinois and neighboring states. They are advocates for Dobermans, but help all dogs and even cats. IDR+ treats some medical issues that other rescues are unable to tackle such as mange, heartworm, and amputations. They have an extensive network of foster homes throughout the Midwest, and partner with a few kennels, which enables them to have around 60 dogs and 25 cats at any given time. 2013 was their 10th anniversary! Please visit their website http://www.ildoberescue.com and like their Facebook page. And even better, if you live in the area, consider adopting or fostering a lovely Doberman! Finally, if you too are of the old-school, Midwestern mindset like the home I grew up in that animals are meant to live on a farm–not in a house–you can always donate to IDR+, thus keeping your home pet dander-free. 

*Winnie has been a resident of heaven since late 2011, and I’m sure if God is allowed to have a favorite, it’s Winnie.

 

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CJ is just one of the adorable dogs IDR+ would love to find a forever home for. Are you his future Doberparent?