Fred's adoption story

Maybe you found your way to this blog from a previous one I wrote. Maybe you are just really interested in Fred's backstory. Whatever it may be, I will gladly talk about my pup all day long!

The year was 2017. I was living in Charleston, West Virginia and working odd hours (4 a.m. to noon-ish). My social life was not very social, and I missed having a dog around.

Then I got an idea: why don't I just go volunteer to walk dogs at the Kanawha-Charleston Humane Association? I'd get my dog-fix without having to commit to being an owner and the dogs would get walks and lovin' from me.

It was February 18, 2017 when I first went to walk some sweet pups. That's the day I met Fred.

This is the first picture I took of Fred.

Fred's pet profile said he was 5-years-old, brought in as a stray, can climb fences, and had been at the humane association for a month.

He was so sweet. Not wild at all. I knew that *if* I were to adopt a dog, I wanted it to be an older dog because I felt like more people passed on the older dogs and opted for a puppy or a dog that was a little younger than Fred.

As I left that day, I called my family. I was trying to have them encourage me to become a dog mom. -- I'd only been living in West Virginia for about a month. -- "Is that even long enough to know what your schedule is like?" they asked.

True.

I was only going to walk dogs anyways. I wasn't going to get attached.

L.O.L.

I went back two more times in the next 10 days. Fred was there both those times, so of course I walked him. And I hoped he remembered me.

Even after talking with my parents, who tried to tell me how much responsibility owning a dog would be, I decided I am an adult (I mean I was 25 at the time...) and I can make my own decisions.

Fred after his first bath at his new home.

So I called the humane association. On a Monday. To adopt Fred.

I was determined.

They were closed.

WHAT?!!!

I pleaded with the person who answered the phone. I asked if I could come in and adopt him. I didn't need to browse. I knew which dog stole my heart and I wanted it back... and I wanted the dog with it.

They couldn't make it happen.

I asked if they could write my name down, write Fred's name down, say he was adopted -- I was coming in the next day after I got out of work.

Fine.

YESSS!!!

The day was February 28, 2017 -- I don't know what story I covered at work that day. I just know the shelter opened at noon, and I was going to be there before anyone else to get my dog.

How did I choose the name Fred? I didn't. That's the name the humane association gave him. He'd been there a month, so I figured people working there and visiting probably called him that name. I decided to keep it. Besides, it made it a heck of a lot easier for me to not have to choose a name. I did decide to make his middle name "Bear." Then I could sing him Ted Nugent's song "Fred Bear" while taking walks.

What breed is Fred? When I adopted him, I was told he was a "West Virginia Brown Dog." I Googled that and turns out, that's not really a thing. I decided to get him DNA tested. He's an Australian Cattle Dog mix. You can read more about that here.

What does Fred like to eat? Cookies (dog treats), chicken/bacon/hamburger (you know, any of those foods he gladly helps himself to when his mom isn't looking), Snickers (especially when they are boxed up under the Christmas tree and intended for his grandpa), grass (and then he throws it up)

Favorite activities: Going on walks or runs -- basically just dragging his mom behind, sleeping, being a free dog and roaming wherever the smells take him

Back to my story:

March 1, 2017 -- I was leaving for work and the weather didn't look promising. I figured I needed to grab my rain boots just in case. I had the front door open still while I grabbed my boots. (They were right by the door. What could go wrong?)

Fred showed me his amazing jump-ability skills. He leaped over the makeshift cage I put him in. (It consisted of stools and chairs lined up around the perimeter of the kitchen with plastic lids that cover under the bed storage containers to fill in the gaps.) He bolted out the door, ran down the apartment complex street, which was located on top of a mountain might I add, and was out of my sight.

It was 3:30 a.m.

I panicked.

THANKFULLY, a coworker, who also worked very early, lived near the area Fred ran off to. I called him. He went outside to look, found Fred just hanging out and yelled his name.

Fred loves guys. He ran right up to him even though they'd never met before. (I didn't have time to have the "never talk to strangers" discussion before this episode... and it's a good thing I didn't.)

I was able to get Fred back inside to safety. Later that day we went and bought a cage. Then came the crate training.

It took more than a year before I started leaving Fred out of his cage when I left for work. Over time, he started trusting me, knowing that I'd come back to him and our bond solidified.