I've Been Where You Are

This is a picture of me and my dog, Timber, that was taken at a 'pet photos with Santa' fundraiser at the Humane Society of Boulder Valley (HSBV) 30 years ago. Santa took a break for this picture because Timber was kind of suspicious of him, and Timber was certainly not going to sit in Santa's lap.

Timber was my first dog as an adult. I had grown up with dogs, but until he came along, I didn't have one of my own who I was solely responsible for. When I adopted him, I lived in a place where pets weren't allowed, so he stayed at a friend's house until I could find a place we could live together. Exactly the kind of situation that would result in someone being denied an adoption at many shelters and rescues, but Timber and I were meant to be together, as anyone who met us would tell you. I learned from him, and he learned from me, challenging conventions and making adjustments when we needed to.

Timber challenged our shelter system. HSBV had just decided that no healthy or friendly animal would be euthanized. Time limits had been eliminated for animals, and we would focus on a friendlier approach to adoption. This seems common today, but 30 years ago, we were on the cutting edge, and people questioned whether what we were doing was possible. After 6 months, Timber was still in the kennel. No dog had stayed that long before, but he was healthy and didn't give anyone a clear reason he couldn't be adopted. He was just a bit shy. When someone walked up to his kennel, he went to the other side and peeked around the corner at them. Not the best way to find your new home, especially when you look like a scary bear.

So, Timber and I started having lunch together every day. I brought my lunch out to the yard, and he ran around in circles, occasionally coming for a bite. On the rare occasion that someone wanted to meet him, the staff would call me to take him out since I knew him best. The problem was that he didn't pay attention to his potential new family because he thought it was our lunchtime.

Meanwhile, leadership staff was having conversations about what you do with a dog who stays for 6 months, and nobody seems interested in adopting. What if nobody ever adopts him? The new policies sounded good, but what do we do when they don't seem to be working? The internet was still fairly new, and Petfinder was started that year, so it was not yet widely known. There was no social media. How do you promote the adoption of a dog that nobody saw and kind of looked like a scary bear?

As it turned out, I was the last to know that Timber was my dog. I think he knew pretty early on, and the rest of the staff certainly seemed to know. When I finally figured it out, everything changed.

Personally, I had to find a new place to live, manage a dog with the highest prey drive our dog trainer had ever seen (he was mostly good with other dogs), work with a bit of separation anxiety, and learn a lot about grooming a Chow Chow (better to brush a little every day than a lot once a week).

Most of all, my real-world experience having a dog as an adult informed my advice and counseling for the people coming in to adopt animals from us. I had been counseling people on bringing a pet into their lives, but nothing replaces real-world experience.

For the first time in over 30 years, I'm not working in an animal shelter. I'm working with nonprofits of all kinds to put my years of experience to work. I've seen the challenges of planning and implementing innovation and sustaining change. How do you figure out what the next big idea is and sustain that change when you face challenges, just like we did with Timber? Sometimes change brings the unexpected and you might want to embrace those changes too. We don't know everything, we can't plan for every outcome, but sometimes we accept changes that weren't our ideas. Most importantly, I've seen what it's like to give and get advice that isn't based on real lived experience. I work with clients on projects I have first-hand experience with. This is a big change for me, and I hope you'll stick around to see what comes.