Adventures in volunteering Vol. 1

I'm going to tell you something that will shock you.

Here it is: dogs chew. They chew things. Some of them chew socks. Some of them chew other things. SURPRISE!

Backstory: I volunteer for the Mid-Atlantic Great Dane Rescue League. It is an amazing organization dedicated to rescuing and rehoming abandoned, neglected, abused and unwanted great danes. Here is their website. I love LOVE danes. The bigger the dog the better, I say. I'm a small person, big dogs make me feel safe. But back to the story.

So yesterday I went to pick up Oakley. I was meeting his future foster about 45 minutes away, where I would trade her Oakley for Homer, a 2 and a half year old male who was supposed to be driven back to the vet's office for neutering and whatever else before he was fostered. Sounds easy enough right? Well it wasn't.

I get to the vet's office to pick up Oakley. He's an exhuberant young man of 6 months, lovely fawn coloring with some brownish black ticking. I say exhuberant because the boy had springs for legs. I don't know how much you all know about danes, but they grow big, and they grow big fast. He was 6 months, as I mentioned. His head was almost to my hip. Ok, maybe that's not a fair comparison considering my husband frequently reminds me that I'm a hobbit. He weighs about 60 pounds.

Imagine, if you will, a 60 pound, 2 year old human toddler. Now give said toddler about 4 sippy cups full of Mountain Dew. Try to stand up to that level of energy. Fail. Fail miserably. Oakley was full of puppy energy that simply could not be contained. It's not so bad having a 60 pound dog jump up on you, want to sit in your lap, and rub his head all over your body, but give him another 18 months when he's full grown and it becomes a problem. But it's not MY problem because he's not my foster, so good luck Sheena!

After about 45 minutes of waiting for his paperwork, I get Oakley into the back of my minivan (perfect vehicle for dane transport by the way), and we get on the road. He climbed and scrambled forward over the middle seats until he could lay on them and fall asleep. Dream transport, he was amazing. Slept almost the whole time.

I get to my destination and hand Oakley over for Homer. Sheena's husband puts him in the back of the van and I'm ready to go. Homer is a black, 2 1/2 year old male. So he's a full adult at probably 140 pounds. I'm driving back towards the vet's, and keep checking on him in the mirror. He's wrapping seatbelts around his head and having a generally good time.

Purposefully wrapping them.

As in, I SAW him circle it around his head, then circle it back off. "Whatever frosts your cookie." I think to myself. Little did I know.

I pull into the vet's parking lot, open the back, and Homer sprints off towards the office. You wouldn't think 140 pounds of dog would move that fast, but he was FAST. I chased him down the parking lot until he found a sufficient post to piss on, then grabbed the leash.

Forgetting there was a 140 pound dog attached to the other end.

Who isn't leash trained.

Needless to say I almost got a good taste of North Carolina concrete. It turns out, managing a leash, paperwork, and bags of medication is beyond my abilities. I had to juggle everything while retaining a death grip on the leash and walking virtually sideways to keep a grip on it and keep him from taking off again. I manage to meander back to close the van door, and then manage to remain standing as I am dragged to the vet office door. I drop him off and head back out to get things rearranged in the back of the van.

I open the door and that's when I saw it. The seatbelts. The seatbelts are mangled. The seatbelts are dripping in doggy drool. And shredded. Almost to the point of not being attached anymore. Homer has a seatbelt fetish. When I get home I post to the group website about my debacle and add a warning to future transports: duct tape your seatbelts down. Hide yo wife, hide yo husband...

A short while later I see a response from someone who had transported Homer before, "Oh yeah, I forgot to warn you guys, he did that to mine too." Thanks.

Next time I will talk about how I threw my daughter down the back steps in her wheelchair. I didn't really, but it made you want to read it right?