Part 1 Thank you, Rachel Koch, from those who speak with tails

If you know the dog world in the south of France, you know of Rachel Koch. Although she hates the term, forums and associations call her an angel for her work in fostering and adopting dogs, especially the Great Pyrenees she loves so much. I prefer to call her an expert, whose understanding of dogs comes from years of experience, from some sixth sense that defies analysis, and from love. I also prefer to call her friend. As well as a weakness for big furry independent types, we share a shaggy dog story of dubious legality about how we didn't meet in a car park ...

Rachel and some of her Great Pyrenees at home (Max on the left)

Welcome, Rachel! I know your first language is Dutch so thank you for responding in English for me. We often talk in French because of where we live so it's a change for me to talk in my own language with you. Please tell us a bit about yourself.

I gave up my career as a flight attendant because I was away from home for long periods. I had always wanted to have animals around me, and, starting with a wire-haired Daschund, I soon began breeding dogs and got involved in  showing and working with them. I followed several courses in the Netherlands in order to become a show and field work judge, and travelled to many countries in Europe in the course of my judging activities. I left judging when I moved to France as I found that it took up too much of my time.

I did a quick count of the dogs I have taken in and came to 15 dogs fostered and 10 adopted although I’m sure I have missed a few. Most were of advanced years like old Jake, a Golden Retriever, whose owners were killed in a car accident. He was completely lost when he came to me but found his “maison de retraite” (retirement home) with us and died in his sleep like a gentleman a few years later.

It is difficult to send away a dog who finally has found his home at the age of 12-14. I prefer to keep older dogs with me as I want to avoid the stress of adapting to a new environment. Young dogs always find a new home very quickly. Older dogs are obviously harder to place. You also must realise that if you adopt, it can be for up to 15 years. I am 58 at the moment so a puppy will stay with me 15 years. Plan ahead if you want to adopt!

Our meeting in a car park was set in motion when I received a phone call from a volunteer with a dog association. A member had rescued a Great Pyrenees, who was in terrible conditions. She couldn't keep him and I was asked if I could drive him part of the way down through France to a foster home. I could. I did. In fact, my long-suffering-husband 'volunteered' to be the get-away driver on condition that I handled the dog. 

When the fugitive was handed over in a car park, he didn't resist. He didn't care any more. His eyes were dead. I've seen this before in shelter dogs, where they have given up completely and it is heart-wrenching. The foster-carer was of course Rachel, and this is what she saw when she came to meet me in the car park of Aix-en-Provence motorway services. Rachel took over with Max and his story.

Rachel's first view of Max (and Jean)

Jean and Max during the rescue

If I tell you that Max is the love of my life of course you cannot compare that to your parents or your husband. A dog is a dog and not a human being. But what I had with Max started probably when he came to our house in a bad state and I knew right away that we were connected. 

I was contacted by Adoption Gros Chiens. His story can still be found on their site. It was one of their first rescue operations. They had rescued Max but they did not have a foster home for him so I agreed to take him temporarily.

Max at Rachel's being nursed back to health

Max after adapting to his new life :)

As I am a judge for hunting dogs I went to a show not far from my house a few days after  and left him in the care of Sven, my husband, and told him to keep Max always on a leash or chain when he was outside.

Sven phoned me in the evening that Max had escaped and the chain was broken. It was at lunch time. He just went into the kitchen to prepare a meal and returned - no dog. So when I came back next day, Max was gone and the search started. Sven and I put pictures of Max everywhere, drove miles and miles to find him. I searched the entire neighbourhood, putting up pictures and of course informing the Gendarmes and Vet.People called to say they had seen him walking with a length of chain hanging off him but every time I went to look… no Max.

I had put him a collar with our phone number on but even then you have no idea if the collar is still on and Max had no tattoo or chip. I searched every day and finally I received news after ten days ! in the evening, on the day that there was terrible rainfall in Draguignan. (A lot of people were killed in the heavy rains and floods) On that very day, a lady phoned to say that she had found Max and he was in her  barn with the horses. She asked me if she could feed him.

I was crying all the time and gave the phone to Sven to try to figure out where he was. It was 75 km !! from our house and indeed he had tried to return to his old place in the mountains but he missed one crossing. I could not wait so we went in a storm with trees falling on the road, floods everywhere. They told everybody to stay at home because people where dying in Draguignan but we went in search of a dog ! 

And there he was in the barn. He could hardly walk so we put him in the car and drove home, where I put him in a blanket. I was so happy but then a few  days later he escaped again. He jumped the fence with me close to him, and I screamed and screamed, 'Max, no no!' and I was completely - how do you say that? - devastated, disappointed. How could a dog you have given so much attention and love and food leave you again?

But the next day, in all my despair, I saw him next to the fence in the forest. He was looking at me and laying still and looking at me, and at seven in the morning I went up to him in my pyjamas and said, 'You are home,' and he never left me again.

Max chez lui

From that moment on his love was in my heart and it stayed until he died so that was the moment  that we had that unconditional love for each other and he became the love of my life. 

Rachel, you and Max were lucky to find each other and to know such happiness, for the last of his nine years. He is a different dog from the one with dead eyes who trudged across a car park with me and I'm sure his tail thanked you every day.

Max and Rachel on the ski slopes

The story of Max highlights some of the issues that arise when you foster or adopt a dog. They DO often attempt to run back to the place they know, even if they were horribly abused. We need to be so careful! I am so neurotic about a dog escaping that I take a collar and tag with my phone number on it when I go to the shelter to pick up the dog. 

Rachel, when you take in a rescue dog, what do you do during the first couple of days? 

I keep them in a quiet place away from the other dogs and with food adapted to the need of the dog. In the case of Max,  I started with rice and chicken and supplements and vitamins.  I also give them a bath and if necessary anti-flea and anti-worm pills. If needed I take them to the vet. I let them sleep a lot and go out with them on a leash, wearing a collar with my phone number on it.

The first days I always take a dog in my bedroom at night. I think this is very important and I do this with all rescue dogs.  Some people are against it but put yourself in a situation that you are lost and find yourself in a house that you do not know, and you are locked up in a kitchen with nobody around you!  So I try to bond with the dog, to keep him with me 24 hours a day. 

Different breeds adapt at different tempos, but with Great Pyrenees it will normally take a month for a dog to understand that he has found a new home. I think this is because they are so attached to the place they live, or the flock they are guarding. 

Thank you so much, Rachel. I love hearing your stories and advice. Neither of us will ever forget Max. His story and those of other rescued dogs show us what is possible. In Part 2, Rachel will tell us more about her adoption and foster care of dogs.

Sherlock, my own adopted dog, is lying beside me at this very moment, worried about the thunderstorm. Ditto Blanche. 

Jean with Sherlock (and Blanche's reflection)

If you would like to win an ebook of my story 'Someone To Look Up To' just post a comment below, before 30th September, in any of the blog posts about Rachel. If you already have my story from the viewpoint of a Great Pyrenees, please choose another book.

Rachel is happy to answer any questions you might have so feel free to post them below.

amazon link

Barbarossa, dirty-beard

Part 3 of our dog adoption

All happy dogs have many nicknames and our Big Bad Lou is no exception. I wasn't worried about his ancestry, thinking him to be what a French friend calls 'a Crusader dog'  and what we used to call 'Heinz varieties' (from the soup advert offering 57 varieties) but then the same French friend told me that Lou looked very much like the old-fashioned Briard from which he is supposedly a cross-breed. What I found out about the breed fits Lou to an L.

the Briard breed

Briards are also known as Bouviers de Flandres, Belgian in origin, and were known in more familiar terms as 
koehond (cow dog), toucheur de boeuf or pic (cattle driver), and - my favourite - vuilbaard (dirty beard),  No prizes for guessing the origin of this nickname and because Lou's beard is bleached and aged a reddish-brown, and he has a certain presence, 'Barbarossa' was inevitable. Despite the nicknames, Briards have a noble history; Charlemagne, Napoleon and Thomas Jefferson are among the famous afficionados of the breed. 

In both World Wars, Briards were the war dogs used by the French. almost to exctinction. They carried messages, searched for wounded soldiers and were commemorated in awards and sculptures (neither of which would have meant as much to them as a game of hide-and-seek with their masters). They are apparently dominant dogs but as my breed of choice for 20 years has been the Great Pyrenees, I wouldn't notice!

Eye contact - good!

Lou seems happy with all his names and his training has progressed so that he now looks me in the eyes, knowing that I  want him to. How does he know? Because every time he looks towards me, or actually catches my eye, and I notice, I tell him how beautiful he is. Some trainers believe you should behave like a dog, avoiding eye contact, and they are right that an unknown dog will consider eye contact to be a threat, but my dogs know that I am not a dog. They trust me and it is beautiful when we look into each other's eyes. It is not challenging (although I've had that too, from previous dogs!)

I can't yet get this contact on walks as Lou still has what I call crazy-escapee syndrome, even though he doesn't pull now. He does behave as if he's just escaped from the shelter and has to make the most of his 5 minutes of freedom. So I'm working on this, the same way I've worked on contact in the house and garden - with compliments.

The story of Lou's adoption - earlier posts

It's just as well that Lou trusts me as we've visited the vet once a week since he arrived here, sometimes without him lifting a leg on her cabinet but always with the intention to do so. The score so far is Lou 3; Jean 4. Dogs with floppy ears are prone to dirty and infected ears, and although I've cleared up the big infection, Lou still has some dirt deep in the ear canal (according to the vet), and hairy ear interiors, so I'm looking at natural ways of regularly cleansing the ears, without poking objects such as cotton buds into them (too dangerous). At the moment I've settled on olive oil, alternating with vinegar/sterilised water on a separate occasion, injected carefully with a small syringe, massaged and any debris swabbed out with gauze. Once a week with the olive oil, which Lou likes, and once a week with the vinegar mix, which he doesn't mind.

In addition to his ear infection, Lou's had a split callus on his elbow, that was being licked into something nasty. How ironic that after 2 years on concrete, summer weather on ceramic tiled floors seems to have done the damage. I've seen how quickly skin problems can turn to a putrid nightmare in our summer heat, traumatising dog and owner, but Lou has healed quickly with only natural medication - thank goodness. The side- and long-term effects of Cortizone and antibiotics can be as much of a nightmare as the initial skin problem. Lou did have to wear a collar and he wasn't pleased.

Swimming 

However, the rewards of virtue followed quickly, and we took him and Blanche for a swim in our special place - clean and quiet. I vowed I would get him shiny and I think I'm getting there.

Even a clean river here can spark skin problems so our latest gadget is a solar-heated outdoor shower for summer fun and dog practicalities. Lou is about as keen on water-from-above as he is on wearing a collar but he is a natural in front of the camera so he did a turn while everyone else fooled around with the shower.

He has now started his modelling career for stock photos and is a real star. This was supposed to be 'the training class' but he and Blanche are more interested in each other than in the supposed training - too true to life!

I wasn't going to blog about Lou again as the adoption is too easy to be interesting (!) but my stepdaughter (in the photo above) is not the only one who's fallen in love with him so I promised I'd post news and photos from time to time. This is already my favourite photo of the summer and friends have suggested I've invented a new sport - water-dog-ski. For me, it's a photo of happiness, of the summer Lou came.

The Voice of Dog - Lou Speaks

The plumber did it. After three weeks being almost mute, one sight of the little white van outside our gates was all it took for our adopted dog Lou to join Blanche, our Great Pyrenees, in alerting us to the threat - or workmen, as we call them. The voice is mid-range, a little rusty and hoarse, and music to our ears. It means that Lou knows he's home, not just on holiday. Having found his voice, he showed us the full range when a police siren passed by. Some dogs respond to the siren tone by howling and we now have two of them who throw their heads back and audition for 'The Jungle Book'.

Lou's story 

Another sign that Lou is settling in is that he sometimes prefers to lie peacefully in the hall in the evening rather than watch gruesome murders and CSI investigations; each to his own. Choosing his place, distancing himself a little from us now and then shows confidence, and there's no lack of attention to us all day. So where have we got to with our adoption?

Health Costs

It doesn't matter whether a dog is seven years or seven months, the outlay on vet's bills is an expensive lottery. Big dogs cost more and living in a shelter does no favours for a dog's health. So far we've spent 140 euros to get Lou from the shelter; and a further 200 euros on three visits to the vet and medication. The routine medication includes worm tablets, 6 months' flea and tick treatment (our region of France is tick-infested), and a solution for rinsing ears. The non-routine medication has been for an ear infection (complicated by an insect sting) and for a cough.

Neither condition has stopped him bouncing through life like Tigger but I'm hoping to clear up both. It's part of the settling-in period to face whatever health problems my new dog brings with him.

Lou laying low in one of the holes the dogs have dug

The unkindest cut - whether to neuter or not

Most shelters require a new owner to neuter an entire dog as a practical measure to prevent unwanted puppies (likely to become the next generation of inmates). We had Blanche sterilised young, to minimise her risk of mammary cancer and because we didn't want to breed from her. We have a fenced garden and haven't had a problem with dogs escaping so, when the shelter left us the choice, we left Lou's bits entire.

The experts all disagree about neutering male dogs. Vets and many behavioural trainers want male pet dogs neutered; they say it prevents unwanted puppies (true) and unwanted behaviour (debatable). Breeders and some dog-trainers are against neutering male pet dogs unless there are medical grounds; they say neutering can change the dog's character and even induce unwanted behaviour (debatable), and there are other ways of preventing sexual activity. I don't know what's best for other people but I'm happy with full-blooded males, including dogs. I've never had a dog trying to mount the furniture or me (thank God, given that my last male, a Great Pyrenees, weighed in at 70kg) and I'm convinced that such behaviour is about dominance not about sex, so requires training, not a surgeon's knife. Dogs are not people and if there's no scent of bitch-on- heat,  there are no sexual fantasies.

All the experts agree that neutering a female has big health advantages. The disagreements are about when to neuter. Vets advise, 'early'; breeders advise, 'after the first season'. Having made our personal choice with Blanche, which was to trust the vet who would have to perform the surgery, we felt comfortable leaving Lou entire. If we had decided otherwise, or been so compelled by the shelter, we'd have had the complication of convalescence to add to the settling-down period of an adopted dog - not something I'd have enjoyed.

I'm lucky in being able to afford the time and the money required. I'm also lucky in that Lou accepts handling from me and from the vet but I have had a dog who wanted to kill vets. He had good reasons for this but that didn't help me at all with 70kg of angry dog and a vet who didn't want anything to do with him - also understandable. What did help me was a) the training I'd done with him since puppyhood so he did accept me handling him and b) a Shellclip muzzle. So I dealt with it. Better than that, thanks to a co-operative vet, we gradually brought back my dog's willingness to be touched by a stranger.

However, I wonder whether I could handle 70kg of adopted dog, who hadn't known me from puppyhood,  who wouldn't let me touch him and who hated vets. There are plenty such dogs in shelters. If I fell in love with a giant shelter dog who was really difficult to handle, would I cope? Loving giant dogs as I do, this is a consideration if I adopt again in the future. Maybe starting with a puppy would be wiser if I choose a giant breed? Or at least choosing a dog I can literally handle, like Lou in temperament.

In my part of France, vets are not like they were in the UK. The dog's behaviour is my responsibility. If the vet can't get the vaccine up the dog's nose because the mutt is behaving like a kangaroo, I'm given the phial in a little take-away bag to 'do at home when she's calmer'. This involves sneaking up on said mutt when she's asleep and assaulting her like the Pink Panther's manservant, trying to inject her nose. It is not easy! And I miss the Welsh vet, who brought in  a vet's nurse and a fellow-vet to assist in pinning 50kg of dog to the floor while stitches were removed. In Wales, vets' nurses were part of the team. Here, with Blanche, it's just me, the vet and a kangaroo. And while Lou might be perfect during treatment, he has expressed how he really feels by cocking a leg on the way out of the pristine consultation room.Maybe keeping him entire has its drawbacks after all.

An old dog learns new tricks

“Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young.” Henry Ford

Perfect recall

This goes for dogs too and you can teach an old dog new tricks. Lou is seven years old, has spent the last two years in a shelter cage and he is a great student. Of course it is possible that he was winning Crufts obedience trials in the five years before he was dumped by a divorcing couple but somehow I doubt it. I don't doubt that he could win obedience trials with the right training but that's not what I do. In formal training, this is what I do with my dogs:-

The 5 Pillars of Dog Wisdom:- 

Leadwork, Recall, Downstay, Turn-taking and Aperitifs

Sarcasm aside, I'm sure that Lou did have plenty of people-experience and some training when he lived with his previous family but whatever commands were used were definitely in French and ex-Balou has switched language as easily as changing his name. He reads body language, listens to the tone of voice and uses his knowledge of how people behave to figure out he's expected to jump in the car, go outside for a pee or come into the house.

From the way he behaves now, my guess is that Lou used to come when called. It's possible that he walked nicely on a lead but if so he lost the habit in the shelter and has regained it. He was definitely never taught a long downstay but one long, determined (on both our parts!) formal session taught him and he will now lie down for half an hour or more when he is told, where he is told, until he is released from the command. Thank you, Michel Hasbrouck for training me! These three pillars of training will let me take Lou into the market, out to friends' houses, for a coffee in the village ... in a word, freedom. That is the essential paradox of dog-training and of my life too; self-control (the dog's, and mine) gives greater freedom.

You'll have noticed five tenets in the training sub-heading, not just the big three. That's because Lou added two more. Turn-taking was entirely Lou's idea and started with his enthusiasm for doing a 'sit' (something that's fun but not important to me). Once a day, Blanche sits on command, waits and, when given the OK (literally, as that's our release word) chases after a Dentastix, then plays cat-and-mouse with it before eating it. I wanted both of them to have their Dentastix and Blanche still to have her fun so I just hung on to Lou's collar to stop him going after Blanche's chew. He didn't just wait patiently; he sat, watched and moved when told 'OK'. So the next day, I told them both to sit - two bums hit the ground. I released Blanche; Lou waited, still sitting. I gave him the OK, throwing his Dentastix at the same time and he was off like a bullet. That is now our routine and I am so proud of him for training me so well.

And then there's the aperitifs. As we live in Provence, we have the daily occasional aperitif. Since Blanche was a puppy, she and her then partner-in-crime were in the habit of rushing to the kitchen on the magic word 'Aperos!' where they received ice cubes from the big American fridge. The first time the call 'Aperos' went out, Lou rushed to the kitchen with Blanche, only to be sadly disappointed at getting an ice-cube, which he spat on the floor. However, convinced that anything the big blonde likes has to be worth trying, he has now become addicted to crunching up aperos and is first there at the very sound of a Martini being poured. Speaking of which, I think it's time... 'APEROS!'

Blanche on a mission

Lou

Dogs digging each other

After 2 weeks... 

Lou, our adopted dog, is still amazing us by how civilised he is, despite more than 2 years in a cage. He loves knowing what will happen next, whether it's a walk in the woods or bedtime. He loves water on the ground but not from the sky. If he sees a puddle, he lies down in it. Yet his reaction to the hose-pipe - recoil - reminded me of  his past; shelter cages get sluiced out with hose-pipes. We are lucky with Lou, who is a plucky character, keen to please us and to fit in, but even so, he has a history that we can only guess at from his behaviour.

Read Part 1 of Lou's life with us

Now he is part of our lives, it hurts to imagine what his previous two years were like. He has been fully house-trained here from the moment he arrived (apart from marking his territory a couple of times on the veranda and cellar doors). Imagine how upsetting it must have been for him to foul his cage. Thanks to volunteer dog-walkers he was given 'a walk' every 3/4 days. In between, he was waiting for that walk - or trying to wait. The walk itself consisted of 5 minutes pulling on the lead, 5 minutes freedom on a strip of enclosed grass where he could run about and relieve himself, then 5 minutes pulling on the lead, back into the cage. Even after a fortnight, two shampoos (on the first day!), and a few rain-showers, I think I can still smell the cage and I want that smell gone, forever. Every day, more dead fur comes out on the brush. I want his coat gleaming like his eyes.

Lou has other ideas about his coat. Not only is mud good for hair and skin, it is excellent for bonding two dogs who like digging. The relationship between my Great Pyrenees, Blanche, aka the Princess, and Big Bad Lou, started off polite. The Princess was magnanimous and the Peasant cautious, not least because at 32kg he weighs in at 20kg lighter than she is. Then they started an engineering project in the outer garden. This involved serious digging. The holes filled with water and the furry hippo sat in one. Who knows what Blanche was really planning for Lou but from the moment they started digging together, they moved closer to friendship.

Digging together

Serious concentration

Lou in a hole

I think the honeymoon is over and we're into Stage 2.  Non-stop rain has both dogs bored and looking for trouble (i.e. each other) so this morning witnessed the first session of full dog-dog physical interaction. Lou's style is kung-fu - in fast, out faster, left-right left-right with the paws, then bounce off the furniture and chew the rug. Blanche has a certain elegance in the approach; the play-bow and a lot of vocalising, but the finish is pure sumo wrestler. She's a heavyweight and believes that jumping on your opponent's stomach usually settles things. Not if he's fast enough. They seemed to be playing to the same rules and tails were wagging throughout so I was more concerned for my living-room than for the dogs but I can appreciate what this stage is like when either dog turns aggressive. Then it's often a return to the shelter for the adopted dog, with bad habits reinforced.

Incidental dog training is all around us and I'm trying to not to overload Lou when everything is new but rather to take advantage of opportunities that arise naturally - such as a wine-buying trip. I suspect that Lou's wine knowledge is limited so we took him and Blanche to the May fête day at a Seguret cave, about an hour's drive from here. Dog-wise it was a good test of a long journey, which will be useful for when we all go on holiday in September (if we're still feeling brave); people-wise, it was a good chance to stock up on Cotes du Rhône Villages. 'Nickel! Impecc!' as we say in France when something has gone well. I'd rather Lou didn't pile over into the front seat every time the car stops but that's fixable. 

In a formal training session, I have taught him, 'Thou shalt not pull on the lead' so that walks are now a pleasure, if a bit of a tangle with all four of us and two lunges. From now on, he is no longer allowed to pull on a lead or lunge. Orderly behaviour getting in and out of the car was progressing nicely and then the hydraulics went on the boot door so the dogs now have to get in and out side doors. So much for establishing a routine and keeping to it! Lou's a bright little button and he's adapting; for a different dog, each change would be a setback.

I wasn't prepared for his silence. Not just the lack of barking (compared with Great Pyrenees who have for years alerted me to every passing fly and cleared the area of wolves in at least a 20 mile radius) but the lack of all sound. Apparently this is common in adopted dogs. Sometimes they bark for the first time months after being in their new home. The noise in an animal shelter is ear-shattering; some dogs join in, some retreat to silence, and many are traumatised. All I know about Lou in kennels is that he was not 'a barker'. In his second week I've heard him growl once, when Blanche thought she'd investigate his food bowl. To me, this is a good sign and Blanche understood exactly what was meant - she's not lacking in confidence herself! He has made a little barking noise, twice, so small that I wondered if I'd dreamed it. The first time, he was shut in the outer garden with my husband and Lou could hear me the other side of the door to the inner garden. He wanted to come in! I didn't let him because I don't want him calling the shots. The second time was when Blanche pushed him to play. She is very vocal, with a whole range of play vocabulary and it touched me to hear him reply - even if that response was probably, 'Get stuffed, I'm sleeping!'

When I hear Lou talking, I'll know he really has his paws under the table.

Watching TV

I do worry about the perception that I'm a  nice person because I've adopted a dog - nicer than someone buying a puppy from a responsible breeder. I've done both. Would I adopt another dog in the future? Yes, if it fitted in with what suited our family. Do I think people should adopt dogs, not buy puppies? No, I do not! I think it's a personal choice. I wish there were no dogs in shelters at all and no adoption! When I translated 'Gentle Dog Training' it was in the hope that dog-owners would seek help for 'difficult dogs', not abandon them. I wish the only dogs were those brought into the world in, and for, loving families and I completely support responsible breeders. I wouldn't hesitate to support such a breeder by choosing to buy a puppy from her - as I did with Blanche. What matters to me is the commitment to your puppy and to your dog, for life.

Lou won't be going back to the shelter, however much he starts chewing the rug; and Blanche will still be our dog, however much she starts chewing Lou.

Lou the Black Dog, Chez Lui

Now I know why experienced dog adopters are reluctant to put in writing their advice beforehand; each dog comes with 'previous', good and bad, which affects his reactions; each adoptive family offers and wants different behaviour from the dog in widely differing family contexts; much of 'what you should do' is in body language, relationships and good timing - so difficult to explain or teach; and most successful dog adopters have absolutely no idea why they're good so they can't explain the skills they've added to instincts from experience. I still think it helps to share what we learn so here's my experience so far.

Balou on Day 1 in his new home

I've already blogged about choosing Balou, the seven-year old dog no-one wanted, who's spent over two years in a shelter and won the hearts of the people working there. Yesterday was the day of truth; Day 1 of the rest of his life, chez nous, earlier than planned because the rain just keeps hammering down and we cancelled our holidays. Great! We could get Balou sooner! Note crucial fact already mentioned; the rain keeps hammering down. Lou is not a dog; he is a furry hippo who threw himself into a deep, full mud-hole in our garden and wallowed. He already smelled like two years in a cage, fur like a carpet from a dumpster. I very rarely bath dogs but I decided to make an exception, using the special 'shampooing pour les chiens noirs' that had tempted me with its promise of making black fur blacker and shinier.

'I wanted a garden and a cute blonde'

Would I advise someone to throw buckets of warm water over the new arrival within hours of starting his new life, followed by a soapy massage, more buckets of water and then a game of chase round the garden with a towel? I don't think so! But it worked for us. While my Great Pyrenees watched the peasants cavorting and stayed well away from the wet stuff. It didn't take a canine genius to figure out that Lou liked water (the dirtier, the better) and I felt confident in handling him because of the car journey.

I haven't told you about the car journey? No problem getting him in the car with a traditional 'run at open boot' method. We waved goodbye to Nice Lady at Shelter, who wants 'after' photos. Then we fought to keep dog from jumping over to join us in the front seat, stopped the car, and re-arranged the people for Plan B. I put a back seat up and joined Lou in the Berlingot boot. An hour's drive later, I knew where he liked being stroked and I smelled like 2 years in a cage.

I was wrong in thinking it would take time for Lou to take an interest in us. He's lying beside me as I type and, now he's away from the shelter, there's no doubt he wants us to be his people and he wants to be with us - both of us. If he hears a door, he checks out who's coming through it and his tail will need a service check from wagging so fast and so often. Change is difficult and tiring, even change for the better, and I know many dogs try to run back to what is familiar, even if the familiar is physical abuse or neglect. There's no sign of Lou trying to do a runner but we're being careful - walks are on-lead.

He loves grass. He rolls in it, chews it, lies on it. The only grass he's seen in two years was a strip where the shelter dogs get walked every 3/4 days. He hadn't been out his cage for 3 days when we picked him up. He loves being brushed, apart from two knotted dreadlocks dangling from his ears. I don't know whether he's been brushed at all in two years (or before that). He lived in an infernal noise at the shelter, amid construction work as well as all the barking, and he seems surprised at Blanche playing guardian to a passing bicycle or the postvan. When she barks, he points, in the classic gundog pose, but so far he hasn't spoken.

Pointing

Amazingly, his behaviour indoors is civilised - no attempts to steal or destroy - and he is house-trained. When you think about him spending up to 3/4 days in a cage without leaving it, it is a miracle that he has kept  the habits presumably learned with the family of his first five years. That doesn't mean there's been no territory-marking. He's a full-blooded male and when he peed on the verandah door, he was told a clear 'No.' I cleaned it by the book, with white vinegar (never bleach or the smell encourages repeat crimes). He watched, waited and returned to finish the job that I'd interrupted. He obviously hasn't read the same book! Since then he's lifted his leg against another interior door, recollected himself (or decided that I was watching) and refrained. My husband is already referring in franglais to 'the Big, Bad Loup' since we shortened Balou to Lou.

I am exhausted but, so far, this is an easy adoption of a dog who wants to please, who gets on with people and other dogs. However, the Princess already in residence is not an easy dog; she is polite to others (human and canine) but unknown humans should keep their distance and dogs should show respect, especially in doorways. So far, we've passed potential flashpoints without incident; going in the car together, mealtimes, a quiet night (hooray), even doorway negotiations. Sometimes it doesn't matter what decision you, the master, take; what matters is that you do take a decision and give clear signals to the dogs, over matters such as getting in and out the car. With dogs like Lou, anything goes; not with dogs like Blanche.

They have played chase and fallen asleep together (in a thunderstorm - an unexpected flashpoint!). It's a good start to what I hope will be a great friendship but I'm watching my Great White very carefully - almost as carefully as she's watching me...

My top tips on dog adoption? 
Tell your dog sweet nothings in a low, purring tone. Tell him when he's doing things right (which includes when he's doing nothing at all) Thank you, Michel Hasbrouck, for this simple but under-used technique.

Secure the perimeter and walk on lead for at least 2 months (and better forever than lose your dog).

Predict the flashpoints, especially if you have another dog, and plan for the practicalities. Anything involving travel, food, close quarters,sleeping arrangements, attention from the master, comings and goings, visitors, could be stressful.

After you've got him home - 4 common stages in dog adoption

1) Just Visiting 
The first 2 months can be honeymoon heaven, with artificially good behaviour because the dog hasn't yet got his paws under the table. Family pets can be over-polite to each other and all the bad habits you allow because you feel sorry for the woes suffered by your dog in the past, can bite you in the butt (literally) when he's settled in. Escape bids are common because the dog is seeking to return to familiar territory.

The beginning of an adoption can also be hell, especially with a dog who's known abuse - and often you don't know the history of your new family member. Be calm and careful with introduction to other animals, other family members. Avoid more flashpoints than are necessary - life will bring more than enough.

Whether heaven, hell or in between (does that mean purgatory?!) this will pass.

2) Integration
Usually some time in the first 2 months. Everyone realises the new dog is here to stay - including the new dog. Everyone tries to figure out how he fits in and where he fits in. Resident dogs stop being polite to the visitor and they have dog-dog sort-outs of the pack hierarchy. One new dog means that every privilege, every toy, every relationship, is up for grabs.

3) Testing
The new dog has his place in his family but he's the sort who wants more. If you've given him everything he wants from the start, and he's been easy-going about it, he might start to cash in on it now, bullying you. Or he might be a 'benevolent tyrant' who knows he's in charge but doesn't bother acting on that knowledge. If your adopted dog starts pushing you around, you have to stop him, without hitting or shouting.

4) Your dog in his pack
Everyone is happy but...

5) Testing
never stops with some dogs and you go through Steps 3,4, and 5 all of the dog's life. It's how the dog checks you are up to the job of leading, that you are 'Someone to look up to'.