POCO

Poco was a cute tan Chihuahua who had a bit of an "attitude" but then what Chihuahua doesn't. She was given to me as a 13 week old puppy. There really is nothing cuter that Chihuahua puppy. They are so tiny it is hard to believe they can live in this giant world.

I didn't need her for I all ready had 40 rescue dogs but the people who owned her and her sister Taco had been killed in a car accident. My vet who was boarding them asked me to take them and find them homes as the family of the deceased couldn't deal with the tiny puppies.

Taco, the all black sister went right away to a lovely home. She was renamed Jaws for her ferocious nature. Somehow, no one seemed to want Poco who was actually the cutest. She had this perfect little white heart on her head. She was very hostile to anyone that wasn't me and very vocal about her hostility. She was the poster dog for a “yappy” Chihuahua.

I do believe no one can fully appreciate a Chihuahua till they own one. No dog will ever love you more completely nor be willing to defend you to the death with their ridiculously tiny bodies. However, while I only had 2 house pets besides her, most Chihuahuas don't quite understand the word “share”. As I couldn't give her proper attention, I was on the look out for a permanent home where she could enjoy single dog status.

I had taken her to be spayed at 7 months when my vet Jim told me he thought he might have a great home for her. Paul, one of his elderly customers, had just had to put his 15 year old poodle to sleep and Jim thought it would help if Paul had another dog to ease the loneliness. After he cleared it with me, he called Paul who was thrilled. Problem solved. ...well not quite.

I then did something unintentionally cruel and thoughtless. Poco was recovering from her surgery so Jim said that Paul could just pick her up right at the hospital saving me a 40 mile trip. Paul wanted to pay for her surgery but I said no. If the adoption was successful, he could make a donation if he wished, but for now, she was still my responsibility. So I left her there for Paul to claim but I would be checking up on her. She was put into a cat carrier in a groggy state and went to her new home.

About a week later, I called on Paul to see how things were going. He lived in a double wide mobile home in an upscale park. He was a man about my age now. He was small, thin and looked a bit fragile. He gave me a big grin when he came out the door to greet me and to thank me for giving him Poco. I asked him how Poco was and he just gushed how much he loved her but then his voice cracked as he said,”I don't think she likes me though.”

It was a hot day but he was wearing heavy leather gloves like a falcon handler would wear. He told me to wait while he went inside to get Poco. I heard terrible snarling from the inside of the trailer. He finally opened the door and the little dog leaped from his gloved hands and ran behind my legs snarling. She obviously hated that man.

My first reaction was boiling anger. What had he done to her? He then removed his gloves and I saw his mangled hands. Poco had bitten the poor old fellow to the bone on both thumbs. The rest of his fingers were thin and bony, the thumbs were black and swollen like sausages. It seemed impossible that such a little dog could do such damage but I believed him. Each thumb had multiple punctures.

“ I can only handle her with the gloves now.” he said embarrassed that he could not win over such a little dog. “Do you think she will eventually like me?” he asked hopefully.

Of course, that relationship ended that day for both their sakes. I drove Paul to the hospital to get those thumbs taken care of. He was quite infected.

Not my picture but looks a lot like her minus the heart on her forehead and shows a similar distrust and fear that took a while to overcome.

I apologized to Paul for I had badly handled the adoption. I had dropped Poco off at the vets and this man picked her up. She must have thought she had been stolen. Also, I had not realized just how attached she had become to me. Right then I decided that even a shared me was better for Poco than full attention from a stranger. That day, she became a permanent pet.

My vet later found Paul a lovely poodle puppy that did not attack him in any way. I did learn from my groomer however that Paul was litigious happy. He had sued several people for frivolous things, my groomer being one. She was amazed that Paul did not sue me for his mangled thumbs and I am really grateful he didn't. Fortunately, Paul healed nicely and was quite happy with his new poodle. Phew.

Poor little Poco took quite a while to realize she was going to stay with me and that I could be trusted. She developed an intense hatred however for my vet. Both times she had gone there, she ended up being stolen, first by me then by Paul.

V-e-t was spelled B-A-D in her little brain.

I went over board spoiling the poor baby. I was sick at what I had put her through. Eventually she forgave me and I forgave myself. I had her for 17 years before she one day curled up beside me on the couch, drew a long shuddering breath, stiffened and passed.

This episode was early in my shelter career and it taught me to be very careful placing a dog for adoption. Even I in the beginning was guilty of thinking a dog could be passed around like a piece of furniture. Even a great home can be a bad one if handled without concern for the animal. Another in the long list of lessons learned.