My wife and I loved our Japanese elm.
For two years we watered, fed, and spoke to it as it braved our balcony’s west-facing sun. Last year, its starburst leaves sprouted, browned, and fell with the changing seasons. No surprise.
This year, the leaves browned before summer peaked. Lower branches shed as we brushed against them with our watering can filled with good intentions. Last week, it died. We sighed. The “expert” at the nursery we’d bought it from insisted it could thrive on our balcony. We so wanted to believe him; we didn’t do the research.
In 2012, we adopted a dog from a rescue agency. He greeted us, then threw up at our feet. We took him for a test run around the block. I fell in love. My wife wanted to check out more pups, then decide. The rescuer urged us to take him. “He’ll spend the weekend in a kennel, cold and alone.” That thought haunted me. We took him. We loved him.
Over the coming weeks, he began lunging at people. Snapping. Biting. We called the adoption agency for advice and got none. Found our own trainers and behaviorists. Nothing worked. The blind corners of our condo building invited unwelcome surprises, triggering his fear aggression. My wife called the agency to arrange his return. To this day, the parting sight of our dog’s face twists my heart and gut.
No, our dog was not a Japanese elm. But both stifled under limiting environments, poor guidance, and our ignorance.
The pet adoption world has evolved since our mishap 14 years ago. In its position statement on the responsibilities of animal shelters, the ASPCA stresses the need for “conversation-based adoptions,” which matches companion animals through dialogue “in a climate of trust and understanding” (Goal 5, Section A).
Many shelters have implemented measures to promote best outcomes. In addition to spay/neuter programs and treating sick pets, staff will assess an animal’s behavior. Reactions to touch, food, and other animals are noted and interventions determined as needed. Rich bios and videos highlight a pet’s unique personality and temperament.
Other crucial programs test compatibility between pets and their prospective adoptees. For example, The Wallis Annenberg Pet Space in Los Angeles offers beautifully designed meet-and-greet rooms where pets and people can mingle in a relaxed environment. A shelter’s solid foster network allows temporary placement in a home, revealing an animal’s habits and real-life triggers.
If you’re thinking about adopting, ask whether the shelter has a foster-to-adopt policy. Such a trial run helps families ensure a good fit before sealing the deal. The Best Friends Animal Society notes that shelters and rescue groups without foster programs adopt out 48% of the animals in their care. In comparison, organizations with such programs adopt out 68% of their animals.
Think of foster-to-adopt as a glass-half-full approach. You’re not being cynical. You’re being conscientious. You want the best result all around.
Trees and pets deserve the chance to take root and flourish under the best conditions. Let no one “guilt” you into on-the-spot pet adoption. Should things go south, you’ll feel awful.
Your pet, even worse.