By Shawn Rozett Senning
During the height of the first round of COVID, my husband and I wanted to get a playmate for our then 2½ year old Leonberger. We had just lost the last of our purebred dogs, and we decided that this time we would rescue a dog. Since my daughter had adopted a wonderful husky-pug mix from Homeward Trails, in Fairfax, VA, we thought it made sense for us to adopt through them as well.
Immediately, my husband was drawn to a dog called “Sirius.” After some research, we learned that Sirius had been flown with about 320 Lab-Jindo mixes from South Korea, where they were destined for someone’s meal! A South Korean Rescue connected with some rescue organizations here in the United States and the transport process began.
These “meal” dogs never knew a mother. They were raised with soup cans over their snouts, so they wouldn’t bark. They were fed their own feces to fatten them up. Needless to say, their beginnings were less than smooth. All of that, coupled with an 18-hour flight from South Korea to JFK (certainly not in first class), and PTSD (at the very least) had set in.
I suppose Sirius was named once he arrived, was processed, transported to Homeward Trails, given shots, fixed and put up for adoption. He was adopted quickly, then returned in less than two weeks. Fortunately, a family from Maryland stepped up to foster him. By this time, Sirius was almost 1-year-old.
Seven years prior to us spotting this pup, my husband had a cardiac arrest. He’d gone to a grocery store and arrested on his way out. Fortunately, an angel (a cardiac rehab nurse, who ended up being his cardiac rehab nurse) was in that same store. She ran to the front of the store, administered CPR, and was handed an AED machine (which had just been placed in that store a week before). By the time two zaps of that were over, the EMTs had arrived, and my husband was awake.
After the EMTs called me, I hurried to the hospital. But first, I begged the EMTs to tell me who had saved my husband. Reluctantly, and probably illegally, they gave me the nurse’s name: Adele.
My four grown kids rushed in from all parts of the country. One worked all night to find this Adele – remarkably, he did.
A pacemaker, defibrillator and seven years to the day later, we adopted Sirius…now called Dell. My husband was hellbent on saving a life and using Adele’s name.
All the photos from Sirius/Dell’s foster family looked normal, and he was adorable. He looked okay when we FaceTimed and saw him in a crate. We were told that he might be a flight risk, so we put a tracker on his collar, and had a harness and martingale collar with us as suggested.
We took our Leo in the car the day we drove 3½ hours to pick him up. Upon arrival, we saw a very sweet, but clearly petrified, puppy. He sat by the back door shaking while our Leo and the foster family’s other dog romped in the fenced in yard. They told us he was not great on a leash. He was an escape artist. Harness and all!
Placed in a crate in the car, he immediately lost control of all bodily functions. Once home, Dell stood and shook in his open crate for almost a week. No eating or sleeping. No sounds. He was not even close to housebroken. Our huge gentle giant army crawled to his crate every night, but got no response, no eye contact, no nothing. Dell finally started to eat (hand fed) after about a week and would lay down.
Dell showed no signs of curiosity. We led him to our fenced in yard (literally pulling and dragging him) and he would immediately ty to run through the closed doggie door (in fact, he broke the whole wall). He threw himself at the outside walls, trying desperately to get back inside to his crate.
We figured out that he preferred the crate in our one bathroom with no windows, so he stayed there for two months. When we eventually took the crate away, he still stayed in that bathroom for another two months. He had accidents daily.
Then, suddenly, one day he came into our bedroom for the first time, and he slept on our bed that night. Since then, he has slept in bed with us regularly.
But he had still never gone down our stairs. He didn’t make any sounds. He never made eye contact. He didn’t play.
After a year and a half, Dell was down to one accident a day. But we were still carrying him or dragging him down the stairs. We started putting a gate on the stairs so he couldn’t run back up once we got him down. His new resting place for the entire day became our family room sofa.
Today? After two and a half years with us, Dell gets up when we get up. He walks downstairs, goes outside to do his business, then comes in and runs upstairs, where he lays in our bed until 12:30pm. At that point we put on his leash and pull hard, and he’ll walk downstairs to go out again. Then it’s right to the sofa, where he stays until dinnertime. Suddenly, about six months ago, he started to play between 7:00-8:00pm every night.
Dell has destroyed two soccer balls, has some favorite bones, and loves a few treats. He loves his big brother, but ONLY during that one hour of playtime. To this day, he has only barked about five times… out of joy. He does not acknowledge new people when they knock, come into the house or at any other time. But he lets anyone pet him now.
Another big accomplishment is that Dell’s tail has been up regularly for a year and a half. He doesn’t shake except when he hears the hose outside or when there’s a thunderstorm, as a result of which he’ll pace, and then usually settle on the floor near me.
I would say that more than Dell is trained, we are trained. My husband and I know his schedule and we know his quirks, and we have adjusted to them. Dell is gentle, happy, content and still very strange. Most of his “dog” moments are just that…moments. He has yet to wander around the house exploring. He has taken a drink or two on his own, but usually we still have to bring water to him.
But he has learned to trust us. And he is ours. And we consider every new thing he does to be huge progress. He’s a love…and he’s our love.
You can follow Dell on Instagram @rescue_dell
