Polo's Story

My name is Polo and I’m a very lucky dog! I try not to think about my first home – there were family and friends there, but life was hardscrabble and we didn’t get a lot of attention.  Then I got out with two of my cohorts and since they were big Dobermans I thought they would keep me safe. It didn’t work out that way.

We lived wild and free for a while, knocking over trash cans and finding our own food, hiding in alleyways and fields to sleep and setting our own course.  But we got thirsty and hungry and it was hot in the high desert in June, and we were eventually caught and taken to a shelter.

It was scary there!  So many dogs, barking all the time.  I thought that was what I needed to do to get out.  I barked like crazy!  I told all the feeder people how well I could bark and it was frustrating because they didn’t seem to like it.  So I barked harder and fiercer, and eventually they put me in a special area where people couldn’t see me.  And I couldn’t see my friends any more.  I found out that one friend was returned to our home and one was adopted, but I was alone.

Behind the scenes, people were working on getting me free, but I didn’t know that.  When you are in the special area, only people from rescues can claim you, and finally someone from 2^nd Chance Vizsla Rescue came to get me after I had been in jail for about 6 weeks.  When they brought me out, a nice lady asked how I was doing that day and the feeder people said that I was very aggressive and charged the cage at them.  They put me in her car inside of a crate and left.  I was glad to get out of the noisy shelter but I was so scared!

The nice lady, Erin, sat with me for a long time.  She told me that there would be no more yelling at me and no one would hit me, and I would be safe from now on.  But we’d need to look at those bites on my back, and a granuloma on my front foot.  She fed me delicious treats through the crate wires and told me that we would be going off the high desert down to Poway, but I didn’t know what that meant.  I liked her voice, though, and liked for her to keep talking to me.  She asked if I was ready to go home and I wagged my tail and we were off.  Along the way she sang “You Are My Sunshine” to me.  It sounded funny to me, and nothing like my dog friends’ singing, but when she sang “please don’t take my Polo away” it made me so happy.

In Poway Erin has a home in the country, and we drove past macadamia nut groves and goat pastures where dogs with an Anatolian accent barked at me. At her house a giant Weimaraner named Buddy came out to meet and inspect me. He read me a lot of rules and then took me into the back yard to see the chickens and the stairs that led onto the deck outside of the kitchen.  Inside, something really yummy was baking and an old lady was looking out the window at me. Erin told her that I may be an aggressive dog, and that she shouldn’t come out onto the deck until she could figure out if that was true or not.  But when Erin went to work, the old lady, I now call grandma, came out and gave me treats and hugged me when I put my head in her lap.  She smelled like yummy things, and I was very happy.

Over the next few weeks, Erin took me to a vet many times.  Bites and sores on my neck had become infected and the bacterial infection traveled down my neck and back.  That vet took bits of skin and scratched me: I didn’t like him, but I couldn’t scare him away.  He just told me that he didn’t appreciate the bad language I was using. He gave me antibiotics, poked me with needles and even took the family jewels!  At home, Erin gave me massages with oils that she let me choose, and baths too.  She took me to day care and left me with another Vizsla named Ketchup and his family.  She had a photographer come over to do a “photo shoot” so she would have nice pictures of me to show me off online, whatever that means.  And she spent a lot of time with me teaching me to sit, stay, lie down, come and heel.  It was a lot of work, but it involved treats and pets and hugs, so I tried hard to get it right.

While Erin is at work, I guard grandma.  She is very old and moves very slow and needs someone to look out for her.  I feel that Buddy Weimaraner is a bit old himself and likes to sleep a lot.  He did show me how things worked at home, though.  No peeing in the house.  No jumping on people.  Rats live behind the shed at the bottom of the yard and gophers are all over the place!  He told me to keep an eye on the vermin and he went back inside to sleep.  I caught a gopher!  That made grandma happy and she gave me (and Buddy) a treat.  She asked Erin if they would allow her to keep me if she wanted to and she cried and said that I was a good boy and whoever said that I was aggressive didn’t know bullsh*t from apple butter!  Grandma is a bit salty.

I had one more hurdle to get over.  In September a tiny little elf of a Vizsla dog arrived.  He had a broken leg and was sent out from Iowa with a pin in his leg to heal up and have the pin removed later.  Erin told me to be nice to Khal and to teach him things.  We chased around the yard until we had to stop because of Khal’s leg.  It seems he speaks Vizsla and Weimaraner, but he teased me about my accent and tried to chum up to Buddy.  It made me mad and I tried to teach him a lesson but mom wouldn’t let me.  It’s hard not to lay into Khal sometimes, but mom is determined that we become friends. Eventually I got used to the little pest, and I do like having someone to patrol with.  He has great hearing and lets me know when we need to patrol the yard at night, and he stays out of the way when Buddy and I are hunting mice.  He likes to snuggle at night, like a puppy, and it’s kind of nice to have him sleeping close to me.



So it seems I’ve passed the tests!  Erin said that I have a Gotcha Day, and she has been taking me to obedience class with other dogs so I can work on my socialization skills.  I have to remember not to charge at little dogs (don’t like ‘em!), and to be polite when people approach, and to be less “reactive.”  Erin said that I do well at home, but out in the world with distractions it’s a bit harder to relax. I’m getting better at it.  Sometimes people tell me how beautiful I am and ask if I’m a fuzzy Vizsla.  It just makes Erin laugh because she says that I’m a Polo, and I’m one-of-a kind.