We had a couple of folks who asked us to tell Dolly’s story after seeing her in the photo of Wobs yesterday. Well, here goes!
When Alayne and I got married in Seattle, she had her own dog, Spats — a beautiful, sweet older Lab mix with a white chest and white feet (hence his name). Although I was a ‘cat guy’ — with six cats I had brought back to the U.S. from my last diplomatic assignment in Sri Lanka — I wanted a dog of my own. But first I had to convince my new wife that Spats really, really wouldn’t mind a companion. (If any of you are married to attorneys, you know what I had to go through to win this — or any — argument.)
In those days — mid-90s — most shelters didn’t have Web sites yet, and in Puget Sound they used a little monthly newspaper called the Muttmatchers Messenger to post their animals. I saw a photo of a black-and-tan dog named Dolly who was in a small, private shelter called Adopt-A-Pet in Shelton, Washington. What caught my attention was her name, because I had grown up with a dog named Dolly. But there was something else that struck me about her photo … she seemed fearful.
I called the shelter and an elderly lady named Elsie Skipworth answered the phone. Elsie and her husband ran the shelter and lived across the road from the kennels. She told me Dolly had first come to Adopt-A-Pet in a litter of puppies, and the shelter had adopted her out to someone locally. At the time Dolly was a bright, outgoing, happy, perfectly normal puppy. Several months later, they heard a ruckus early one morning in the kennels. The dogs were all barking and going crazy. They went out to investigate … and discovered Dolly was back. She had been thrown over the fence.
The dog they found was not the same one they had adopted out. This Dolly was traumatized. She was scared to death of the Skipworths and anyone else. She trembled when people approached. She would slink on her belly and try to disappear into the ground. It took months for Dolly to come to trust the Skipworths again. So when I called, Elsie explained all this and told me point-blank that Dolly’s fear of people probably made her unadoptable.
I said, "She sounds perfect. I’ll take her!"
Because she looks like a Doberman, we suspect whoever had adopted her tried to turn her into a guard dog. They wanted to make her tough and mean by beating her. When they finally realized they had created not a guard dog but a wreck of a dog, they drove back to the shelter and threw her over the fence.
We made the two-hour trip to Shelton the next weekend. Sure enough, Dolly was a frightened wreck. She quivered with fear when I clipped a leash on her collar. Then she tried to crawl away from me, her nails digging into the dirt as she clawed at the ground. It was heartbreaking. I finally had to pick her up and carry her to the car. When we got home, I had to carry her into the house and down the stairs to the family room. I laid her down on a dog bed in the corner. She didn’t move. She just stared at me with this terrified look. For two weeks she didn’t leave that spot except to go out the door to go potty.
Then one day she quietly made it up the stairs and stuck her head around the corner. We’ll never forget that moment when we saw her head appear at the top of the stairs. She was coming out of her shell.
Dolly decided that she could trust us but not others. And she adored us. But everyone else got a growl. When Alayne’s parents came to visit and dog-sit while Alayne and I went on a trip, Dolly would growl menacingly at them. Uh oh. I tried everything to get Dolly to accept Alayne’s parents, but she wasn’t having anything of it. Finally, I told her parents to take Dolly for a walk. They looked at me as if I was trying to get the inheritance early. Alayne shot me a death look that said, "You’re out of your mind." I said, "No, really, let’s try this. Take her for a walk. I’ll start out with you and then you take over."
We were no more than 10 yards from the house when I handed them the leash and sent them on their way. Twenty minutes later they returned, all smiles and Dolly wagging her tail. From that point on, Dolly loved them and they loved Dolly. We’d call in every day during our trip and all we’d hear about was how wonderful Dolly was. Alayne would have to ask them, "Say, how is SPATS, by the way?"
Dolly continues to be suspicious of everyone else, and always … I mean always … growls at members of MY family. That’s why my nieces and nephews refer to her as "Evil Aunt Dolly." I’ve sent them photos of Dolly licking Alayne’s parents in the face, and they think I’ve doctored the photos. They don’t buy it.
Now that Dolly is 12 and has had two knee operations, she’s starting to mellow out and become a little more accepting of new people. But she did become my girl, and to this day she will listen only to me … unless I’m not around, in which case she will begrudgingly listen to Alayne. Which, as I recall, was exactly how it was with Spats!
Rolling Dog Farm Blog 
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