R and I made a work trip to Houston, then decided to window shop and hang out in town a while. We decided to start with breakfast at a Corner Bakery on the Southwest side of Houston. As we walked towards the bakery, we heard an abundance of barking dogs. Abundance, as in "holy crap, where's the fire/robber/mugger and the dog walker?" We saw the sign ..
K-9 Angels Rescue
I talked R into walking in, and "cuddling the puppies". There were dogs *everywhere*, cages all over the place, and dogs of all sizes, ages, shapes, and colors. Mixes, pure-looking, barking, happy, quiet and shy....
Then we saw Kayla, sitting at the back of her crate, quiet. She walked to the front of the crate, wagged her little tail, and acted a LOT like MacKenzie did when I first met her. We took her for a walk, and while exuberant, she was pretty well behaved, and polite. As soon as her paws found grass, she stopped pulling on the leash, and was incredibly polite. She cuddled a bit, didn't bark, wasn't trying to drag me across the parking lot, just happy to be on the grass.
We took the plunge. I filled out their entirely lengthy adoption process paperwork, and as I filled it out, I had a hunch it wouldn't work out. They asked in detail "where I lived, what animals I owned, what care I took of them, how much I worked, where I worked, where I'd be gone, where the dog might be while I was gone, what treats I might feed, what I might do if I ever left town, where the dog might be if I left town, would I give the dog up and if so to whom".. you get the idea. I pretty much knew as I submitted the three-page application, I'd be denied.
It wasn't for the reason I figured. I figured being from out of town, they "wouldn't be able to inspect my home for quality life". Nope. The women looked me right in the eye, and said, "We think crates are torture. You can only use them for house breaking, and then allow the dog to roam the house, with a dog-door for bathroom access. You'd be leaving her alone too many hours in a row, and she just can't handle that." I responded, "Well, you know, some of us have to work to pay the bills." R was shocked, and dismayed. I pretty much saw it coming.
If you work in a rescue that believes the only "acceptable home" is a married family with no children, an abundant yard, and someone to stay at home all day long to pamper Fluffy the dog, only own 1-2 dogs, provide monthly vet care, premium home-cooked meals of only the highest quality meats & vegetables, then no wonder you're overcrowded. This place had at least 40 dogs in a small storefront, and it sounded like many of the dogs were taken home by volunteers every night. Otherwise, they were all trapped in little crates all day long. Apparently, being in a crowded room full of yapping dogs in a little bittie crate is SO much better than being in a crate in a quiet country home during the day, running amok during the early AM and evening hours, and crowding my bed at night. I wasn't searching out a family addition, so my only heartbreak over the situation is how I went from being "the perfect home with a lot of property out in the country with horses" to "torturing a dog by trapping her in a crate all day".