The replacements

When looking for your next dog, please do me a favor and remember: You're getting a new, unique dog—not a clone of your last one. Plus: Winners of our naming contest!

Was Emily Elizabeth prepared for a 25-foot dog? No! But she rolled with it.

If you’ve been reading Other People’s Dogs for more than a few weeks, you’ve come to understand something: Dog rescue is a stressful business, filled with impossible problems that seemingly never stop.

You’ve got your dogs who don’t get along with children or suddenly hate the other resident dog. Your dogs who aren’t as housebroken as promised. Your dogs who are sick and need lots of medical care. As I’ve said before, I know I’m not curing cancer here, but I do think a big reason I like to tell you about rescue is to help people understand how challenging it is to match a lost dog to a person who needs a dog.

This is all my way of saying, this week I’m going to explain another big challenge in intake coordinator land: new owners who convince themselves that their next Boston terrier must be exactly like their last one. Or else!

The last few people surrendering dogs were all longtime Boston terrier owners who now have a dog who—gasp!—isn’t exactly like the ones they had before. They were expecting it to act just like Buster I and Buster II, but Buster III is destructive and cannot be housebroken and he doesn’t even like the elephant stuffy! How dare he?

I always want to ask them, Have you seen Clifford the Big Red Dog? That was absolutely not what Emily Elizabeth and her family were expecting. He’s 25 feet tall! He doesn’t even fit in the house! Did the Howard family rehome him? No! They embraced and celebrated his differences.

Two Bostons: Clemmy, who couldn’t be away from me, and Bea, who couldn’t stand me looking at her.

Looking for your next dog

My cousin, Mandi, a vet tech, used to advise her mom, my aunt Suzy, against getting the same kind of dog again for exactly this reason. They had many dogs, but I’m thinking of two English bulldogs: one who was great, and the next one who was, in technical terms, “kind of dumb.” Not better, not worse—well maybe a little worse. But mainly different.

I understand that people loved their last dog and miss them and are trying to replicate the experience. But dogs aren’t goldfish. And I can accept that it’s natural if you had a dog for 12 years, you’re going to compare the next one to them. It’s not unlike hearing parents compare kids. The one who slept well vs. the one who screamed all night. The one who studied hard vs. the one who stared out the window during class. But generally—and this is an important point—parents don’t rehome the kid who didn’t seem like the last one.

It’s true that I rescue Boston terriers because I like the breed. I like how they look, I like their joie de vivre, I like that they can nap hard and be really snuggly. I’ve also fostered enough to know that there as many types of Bostons as there are colors of blue. And if you look at my last several Bostons, you’ll note that some of them look like twins. But except for the way they walked, and some similar styles of zoomies, they were not the same dogs.

If I would put my face close to my Moses’ face he would put his arms around my neck and hug me tight. If I pulled that on James he would nip at my nose. It’s true I did say, “Moses would NEVER!” But I didn’t send James away. I learned who James was, and that I needed to stay the hell out of his face.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that dogs aren’t Dick Sargent taking over for Dick York and hoping no one will notice. Yes, there are habits and mannerisms that many dogs display, but truly all dogs are uniquely themselves. They’re special creatures and not Oreos.

If you’re trying to make your next dog exactly like the last—or if you demand of your rescue group that it meets all your criteria, you’re doing it wrong. Just like with children and friends, embrace what makes them different. And if necessary you should build a 30-foot doghouse to accommodate them!

Contest results!

Last week’s best pet name contest was off the rails! I absolutely adored reading everyone’s responses, not only because your names are clever and wonderful, but also because the love you have for your dogs is so special. I also found it such a great respite from the wretched news to read stories of how you named your little pals. Dare I say it was almost a communal feeling? I had planned to include a few in here, but just go read them all, you’ll be in for a treat.

I had so much trouble picking that I had to enlist my family and Misty. And without further ado the winners and runners up are…

UNPAID SUBSCRIBER, who wins a paid subscription to Other People’s Dogs:

•Kristine Muñoz My favorite Italian word is Andiamo—let’s go! Could there BE a more perfect name for an energetic pup? Ahn-dee-AM-o—ANDIAMO!

First runner-up, which I had not planned to do:

•Domenica Marchetti My Italian uncle had a basset hound he named Poppaea, after the Roman empress (and second wife of Nero). I do love the idea of naming dogs after ancient royalty 👑 I forgot to add: he gave my sister and me our first dog, which (sorry to say!) came from a pet shop in Pescara. She was billed as a poodle but looking back I actually believe she was some sort of a doodle. We adored her; she used to run around in giant circles in our front yard. We called her Millie—short for Emilia—after our uncle, whose name was Emilio.

PAID SUBSCRIBER, who wins a signed copy of their choice of my books is:

•Jess K The name we picked before we got our wonderful friend: Dougal. There was an Irish sitcom in the 90‘s about priests, because Ireland I guess. Father Dougal was played by Ardal O‘Hanlon as a big enthusiastic, affectionate man child. O‘Hanlon said he played the character as he would a family dog, and as we met dogs, we would rate them as to how “Dougally“ they were. It became a shorthand to focus down on the kind of dog we wanted, until we found our rescue supermutt, the memory of whom I still so cherish.

First runner-up:

•Susan Bridges Gilder I named my first dog Worm because he had worms. He was a miniature schnauzer. The name stuck and he was the biggest mush—worming his way into anyone’s heart he met. Then I went more traditional with Zoe, Winnie, Kacey, Maggie and Tig (we kept Tig and Maggie’s rescue names). They literally became their name in terms of personality. All much beloved.

Congratulations to the winners! And also you are all winners!!! xox Julie