sp1.
Awright, so I finally started my service project for Honors English, which requires that I perform 20 hours of community service and then write a 1,500-word narrative about it when I'm finished. The essay can be first or third person, fiction or non-fiction. I also have to keep a journal about my community service activity, and I figured LiveJournal is as good a place as any. I'll just copypasta all of my entries into a Word document when I'm done. But yeah, entries relevant to this will be tagged "service project" for easy access.
Oh by the way I decided to do my community service at the local dog shelter.
Aaaaand, here's the actual entry.
Monday, 14 April 2008
Day 1
1h 30m
Initially I planned to start this two days ago, on Saturday. My two previous experiences at the dog shelter, however, have been less than enjoyable. It seemed like the staff members were pretty unhelpful, and the whole thing is completely unsupervised. I always thought I was someone who would feel most comfortable without supervision, but it's kind of nice having someone around to hold your metaphorical hand and make sure you're not doing something stupid. Especially when you're doing something new and somewhat scary and you're highly prone to doing stupid things. So I pretty much chickened out on Saturday and stayed home.
I think the same thing would have happened today as well, had two of my friends, Lang and Dakota, not come with me. Having people with me made me feel a little more bold, even if I was somewhat timid at first (if timid is a word that can ever apply to me). I'd previously been told to just walk in and grab a dog upon arrival, no questions asked. That seemed (and still seems) somewhat weird to me, since someone could easily nab a dog and take it home without paying the $99 adoption fee. I guess they just count on the honesty of their volunteers, because there's no way they could afford to properly supervise everyone who's in and out of the place during the course of a day.
After asking a few basic questions of one of the more friendly looking staff members, we decided to stick together (for safety) and try the left wing, which houses the smaller dogs, first.
At this point I should probably mention something about how I feel about dogs. A lot of people are afraid of larger dogs, simply because they're large and typically have a great deal of physical strength. I, on the other hand, am far more wary of small dogs. I can't say I have any canine horror stories, and I certainly don't have any real fear of any size dog, but I've been bitten rather badly by several smaller dogs and it's left a tiny bit of bitterness in me, as much as I hate to hold a grudge. The worst a large dog has ever done to me is knock me down by playing with a little too much enthusiasm.
Anyway, Lang and Dakota both found dogs in the left wing and took them to the fenced area just outside the building. My little grudge, however, caused me to see the smaller dogs as little demons with sharp fangs. By this time I was feeling significantly braver and no longer needed the support of my friends to avoid having a panic attack, so I ended up crossing over to the right wing, which houses the larger dogs. On the way through the central area, I grabbed a leash and a rope bone. In an effort to find out which dog to take outside, I elected to enter the kennel of each one that seemed friendly and eager to play without being excessively neurotic.
The two dogs closest to the door were Saint Bernards, probably siblings judging by their similar color patterns and by the fact that their kennels were undivided. They were both incredibly loving (and soft! despite their fur being full of burrs). One of them was slightly more outgoing than the other, and kept trying to stand on its sibling in order to get closer to my face, which it was trying to lick. I wouldn't have any of that, though. I mean, we'd just met. After trying and failing to remove the burrs from their coats, I moved on.
The next two dogs, a chocolate lab and a chow, both seemed like a bit more than I could handle. The next dog, however, was pretty much adorable. I'm not sure exactly what kind of dog it was, but it looked like a long-haired dingo. It didn't bark like most of the other dogs. It just stood in its kennel, looking up at me through the door and wagging its tail. I could tell immediately that this would be the one I'd take out, but I decided to do a bit of a test run in the kennel first. The dog didn't try to push its way out of the kennel or jump on me as I opened the door, which was a good sign. It remained completely calm, but pushed itself against me to let me know that I wasn't being ignored. (I should have known that working at a dog shelter would just make me want to get another dog really badly.)
Needless to say, I decided to leash this one and take it outside. It didn't seem to care much for the rope bone that I'd brought, so I left it on the kennel floor. After a little bit of searching, I found the door to the unfenced part of the yard. I wasn't completely sure at first whether or not I was allowed to take a dog there, but after a while someone else brought a dog out and I realized I wasn't doing anything wrong.
The dog I'd chosen, who I affectionately named "Man" due to his incessant desire to mark his territory, proved to be calm even outside. He walked when I walked, ran when I ran, and barely stretched the leash. After some sniffing about, Lang and Dakota came through the same door I'd used to exit, each toting their own dog. Our dogs sniffed at each other, as dogs will do, and surprisingly none of them growled or seemed threatened. This was pretty shocking to me, because my own dog, Missy, freaks out if she so much as sees another dog 200 yards away.
We seemed to have passed through a time warp out in the yard, because it was almost closing time before any of us had really had enough playtime. I'd meant to spend time with more than one dog, but Man was so awesome and anyway I didn't even notice how much time had passed. Reluctantly, we returned our dogs to their kennels and said our goodbyes, just as a staff member was coming around to make sure everyone was getting ready to leave. This man thanked us for spending our time walking the dogs. (Apparently the weekday staff members are more friendly than the ones on the weekends.)
As we left the building, we all agreed that it would have been nice to stay longer. I can honestly say that I'm looking forward to the next time I go. In a way I hope that Man will still be there, but I probably shouldn't devote all of my time to a single dog when there are dozens of others getting no attention. Besides, I want Man to get adopted so he can have the life that he deserves. It's sad that I can't be the one to give him that, but I'm pretty sure my parents would burn me at the stake if I came home with another dog.
I think I'm going to be like a cat lady when I'm old. Only, you know, a man. And with dogs instead of cats. So not really like a cat lady at all.
Oh by the way I decided to do my community service at the local dog shelter.
Aaaaand, here's the actual entry.
Monday, 14 April 2008
Day 1
1h 30m
Initially I planned to start this two days ago, on Saturday. My two previous experiences at the dog shelter, however, have been less than enjoyable. It seemed like the staff members were pretty unhelpful, and the whole thing is completely unsupervised. I always thought I was someone who would feel most comfortable without supervision, but it's kind of nice having someone around to hold your metaphorical hand and make sure you're not doing something stupid. Especially when you're doing something new and somewhat scary and you're highly prone to doing stupid things. So I pretty much chickened out on Saturday and stayed home.
I think the same thing would have happened today as well, had two of my friends, Lang and Dakota, not come with me. Having people with me made me feel a little more bold, even if I was somewhat timid at first (if timid is a word that can ever apply to me). I'd previously been told to just walk in and grab a dog upon arrival, no questions asked. That seemed (and still seems) somewhat weird to me, since someone could easily nab a dog and take it home without paying the $99 adoption fee. I guess they just count on the honesty of their volunteers, because there's no way they could afford to properly supervise everyone who's in and out of the place during the course of a day.
After asking a few basic questions of one of the more friendly looking staff members, we decided to stick together (for safety) and try the left wing, which houses the smaller dogs, first.
At this point I should probably mention something about how I feel about dogs. A lot of people are afraid of larger dogs, simply because they're large and typically have a great deal of physical strength. I, on the other hand, am far more wary of small dogs. I can't say I have any canine horror stories, and I certainly don't have any real fear of any size dog, but I've been bitten rather badly by several smaller dogs and it's left a tiny bit of bitterness in me, as much as I hate to hold a grudge. The worst a large dog has ever done to me is knock me down by playing with a little too much enthusiasm.
Anyway, Lang and Dakota both found dogs in the left wing and took them to the fenced area just outside the building. My little grudge, however, caused me to see the smaller dogs as little demons with sharp fangs. By this time I was feeling significantly braver and no longer needed the support of my friends to avoid having a panic attack, so I ended up crossing over to the right wing, which houses the larger dogs. On the way through the central area, I grabbed a leash and a rope bone. In an effort to find out which dog to take outside, I elected to enter the kennel of each one that seemed friendly and eager to play without being excessively neurotic.
The two dogs closest to the door were Saint Bernards, probably siblings judging by their similar color patterns and by the fact that their kennels were undivided. They were both incredibly loving (and soft! despite their fur being full of burrs). One of them was slightly more outgoing than the other, and kept trying to stand on its sibling in order to get closer to my face, which it was trying to lick. I wouldn't have any of that, though. I mean, we'd just met. After trying and failing to remove the burrs from their coats, I moved on.
The next two dogs, a chocolate lab and a chow, both seemed like a bit more than I could handle. The next dog, however, was pretty much adorable. I'm not sure exactly what kind of dog it was, but it looked like a long-haired dingo. It didn't bark like most of the other dogs. It just stood in its kennel, looking up at me through the door and wagging its tail. I could tell immediately that this would be the one I'd take out, but I decided to do a bit of a test run in the kennel first. The dog didn't try to push its way out of the kennel or jump on me as I opened the door, which was a good sign. It remained completely calm, but pushed itself against me to let me know that I wasn't being ignored. (I should have known that working at a dog shelter would just make me want to get another dog really badly.)
Needless to say, I decided to leash this one and take it outside. It didn't seem to care much for the rope bone that I'd brought, so I left it on the kennel floor. After a little bit of searching, I found the door to the unfenced part of the yard. I wasn't completely sure at first whether or not I was allowed to take a dog there, but after a while someone else brought a dog out and I realized I wasn't doing anything wrong.
The dog I'd chosen, who I affectionately named "Man" due to his incessant desire to mark his territory, proved to be calm even outside. He walked when I walked, ran when I ran, and barely stretched the leash. After some sniffing about, Lang and Dakota came through the same door I'd used to exit, each toting their own dog. Our dogs sniffed at each other, as dogs will do, and surprisingly none of them growled or seemed threatened. This was pretty shocking to me, because my own dog, Missy, freaks out if she so much as sees another dog 200 yards away.
We seemed to have passed through a time warp out in the yard, because it was almost closing time before any of us had really had enough playtime. I'd meant to spend time with more than one dog, but Man was so awesome and anyway I didn't even notice how much time had passed. Reluctantly, we returned our dogs to their kennels and said our goodbyes, just as a staff member was coming around to make sure everyone was getting ready to leave. This man thanked us for spending our time walking the dogs. (Apparently the weekday staff members are more friendly than the ones on the weekends.)
As we left the building, we all agreed that it would have been nice to stay longer. I can honestly say that I'm looking forward to the next time I go. In a way I hope that Man will still be there, but I probably shouldn't devote all of my time to a single dog when there are dozens of others getting no attention. Besides, I want Man to get adopted so he can have the life that he deserves. It's sad that I can't be the one to give him that, but I'm pretty sure my parents would burn me at the stake if I came home with another dog.
I think I'm going to be like a cat lady when I'm old. Only, you know, a man. And with dogs instead of cats. So not really like a cat lady at all.