Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

Everything started with a pet sitting in December, when we took care of a friends’ dog, a very nice young lady, all black, with short hair and medium weight. At the beginning of January of 2020, Irina started to look for dogs, very thoroughly, like a full time job, plus overtime. Eventually she decided that we wanted a border collie. I always liked the ‘we’ in ‘I’.

She found a website for border collie rescues, a very serious website; Irina was glued to their page, she knew all the dogs by heart. At one point she announced: “I have completed the application!”
“Say what now?”, I asked puzzled.
“Yes”, she said, “it’s a whole process for adoption, look” and she showed me the six steps to dog ownership: application, telephone interview, home visit, meeting with the puppies, actual adoption, and life with the puppy, plus weekly reports. All these for a very low $400 adoption fee.

At first I laughed in disbelief, then I got a little annoyed, but I thought that if this brings peace in the house, why not, let’s play along, see what comes out of this.

The application took half a day: hours and hours of questions and essays. I haven’t seen the end result, because it was submitted before me getting even slightly curious, but I admire Irina’s patience. I think that’s why there were only women (sorry, not sorry) in this association. They had time, patience, and an unequaled attention to detail.

Irina was pacing around the house with the anxiety level to the max, waiting for the e-mail to come or the phone to ring; after two days we got promoted to step 2, the telephone interview.

She came out happy after the interview, said she has a good feeling and that she was waiting for the result. I asked if she had applied for a job. “No,” she said, “the job application is easier.”

Things started to get serious when we were notified of the home visit. Irina cleaned up, instructed me what to say and especially what not to say: no jokes of any kind, good jokes or bad jokes, so it is better if no jokes at all. Because my sense of humor is very special, it is best kept quiet.

The woman who came, is like she had X-rays in her eyes … when I saw how she looked at me I started to sweat and to regret that I didn’t take a shower. I’m sure she was the leader of the team who invented the X-rays cylinders at the airport, the ones TSA is using to invade your last drop of privacy when flying.

So, let’s recap, border collie, which is a medium-sized dog. What advice did the super woman give us: to block the 1 inch we have at the gate between the bottom part and the asphalt so that the dog doesn’t get out from under the gate. Otherwise, we passed the tests and we were recommended a dog with a low to medium energy level.

We were ready to start seeing the dogs now. However, the departure to Show Low was approaching, for Martin Luther King’s Day, a long weekend with friends at a cabin in the mountains.

Just before leaving, though, Irina made a quick call to get information about a dog, a very special dog, Elsie, The Wonderdog: you adopt Elsie, 100 years of wealth, riches, and goodies will be pouring over your family. The Foster Mom wasn’t home, a voice told us “please call later, she’s got some work to do.”
“When later?”, asked Irina, slightly impatient.
“Well, later”, answered the voice, and hung up.
“My God”, I said, my Balkan experience kicking-in in high gear, “she wants a bribe.”

Irina called once more, told the woman that we are going to Show Low and that we are driving by her house, the lady again stated that she has work to do, to call back. “Wow”, I said, adding some colorful words from my very vast bilingual repertoire.
“Of course”, Irina said, politely, “we’ll call Monday evening”.

Suddenly, Irina remembered (what a coincidence, wink, wink) that Payson has one of the largest puppy shelters in the Southwest, the Humane Society of Central Arizona. Coincidentally (wink, wink), she also had the address handy, so we made a detour and went to the shelter. We entered and the lady at the reception tried to start the customary mini-interview with the potential adoptive humans, to which Irina, short and stern, said: “I would like to see Tom!” “Shit,” I said to myself, “she came prepared! She knows these dogs, too!”

Tom appeared, dragging a frail teenager after him, cartoon-like vision. That poor little girl was holding back Tom with both hands (I’m sure she didn’t imagine her day going on like this when she woke up in the morning). We got out with Tom for a little while, to get to know him, to become friends, he saw Irina, jumped on her for greetings and salutations, and peed gloriously on a tree whose sole purpose was this: to be peed on. And for breed, only God knew, a mix of everything, small to medium, very strong, totally not trained, found on the streets of Payson.

We finished the viewing with Tom, we added him to the “maybe” list, I was already on my way out when Irina started to check the wall with the photos of the “most adorable adoptable” pups. She saw a funny face and asked to see that one, too; the young and skinny teenager brought out a ball of pure energy. When he saw Irina he yelled “Mommy”, and ran towards her, stopping with his front paws in her breasts. My lady ran out of air and, in a broken voice, said: “no, thanks”, during which time the dude also took a big piss on that lonely tree. Finally, after we brought the new dog back inside, we asked the people in the center to wait for us with Tom until Tuesday, fully agreeing that he needs lots of training.

The saga continued, we had 2 more hours to drive to the cottage, enough time for Irina to find another big Labrador in Show Low. “Great”, I said, sarcastically, “let’s go see him”. Irina didn’t quite get the sarcasm, called the number, and a raspy voice told her that the dog is not actually in Show Low, she’s at a foster home in Springerville. Or Snowflake, about 150 miles apart. Small detail. “Okay”, I said, seriously this time, “let’s relax and enjoy the trip for 3-4 days while we’re here and start over when we get back.”

In the meantime we discussed and we decided that Tom is not such a good choice. Phew! That was a close one! I really hope that he found a good home, with a real alpha male to handle him, which definitely I am not.

Monday evening, on our way home, Irina called again the lady with the border collie (Elsie, God’s Canine Miracle) ready, steady, let’s go get it. Major disappointment, there was another family over the weekend, seen ‘er, liked ‘er, loved ‘er, took ‘er home. “See if we didn’t bribe” I said, already mentally tired, yet pretty amused.

On Tuesday, Irina took a deep breath and started looking again. She expanded the search to more breeds, she kept sending me five dogs an hour, I learned about all the dog rescue organizations in Phoenix and the surrounding areas. And there are a lot.

Personally, I was getting kind of bored. Irina, on the other hand, was a model of tenacity and perseverance. I was walking around the house, on Irina’s screen, puppies, I was going to the bathroom, on Irina’s screen, puppies, in the morning, at noon, and in the evening, puppies, dogs, puppies, dogs. I had to sneak around the house when leaving my office, not even breathing, so I will not be stopped and asked “what about this one?”

At one point, though, Irina sees me, grabs my hand, drags me in front of her screen and asks: “Wait, stop, look-look-look, which one?” and she shows me three dogs, two I don’t even know what they were, and Baloo, in all his giant-to-be splendor, a picture of him on two paws, already as tall as his human, and with puppy paws as big as the human’s feet.
I said: “The big one, monstruella.”
Irina: “Huh, what? Are you serious? Stop kidding. I showed you that one just for kicks.”
“I want to see him. Call the owners, please”, I said in a calm, yet stern voice.

It was on a human-to-human adoption website with no intermediary organizations. It’s called rescueme.org. Without high adoption fees, you talk directly to the owner. I find it interesting, it is more humane than others, you know what is going on with the dog, why the owner wants the dog rehomed… Usually people just want to know that their dog or cat or bird or horse or whatever pet they have ends up in a good house.

Finally, Irina got on the phone with the owners, talked to them and said to me afterwards: ”Stefan, you’re crazy, but you’re mine. The dog is big and he’ll get even bigger, he’ll be like a cow, but look, for your sake, tonight we’ll all meet in the Best Buy parking lot, the dog’s name is Baloo.”

We studied thoroughly to see how you introduce yourself to a new dog, we went, we saw the dog, I kept my distance, only one of us to be playing with him not to overwhelm the pup; Irina started to apply what she had learned, I was talking to the gentleman, asking question about the dog, when things suddenly got very quiet; when we looked around, Irina was very kissed by Baloo and they were playing in a bush. Irina stood up, looked at me, and said: “He is the one! That’s it!”

His owners gave us his papers, DNA profile, vaccinations, everything they had on him. Irina found out his story (found as a puppy behind their house, now 5 months old, raised by this young family, very well cared for, fully vaccinated, neutered, microchipped, but too big in a house with 3 small children and 2 pugs), tears, thank yous, a small amount of money changed hands …

From the DNA profile it results that he is 25% Grand Pyrenees, 25% Australian Shepherd, 12.5% ​​Newfoundland and 37.5% herding dog.

His centuries old instincts kicked in, he looked around for someone to be herd, gathered, and protected: he looked to the right, he looked to the left, he saw me, wagged his immense fluffy tail, and he said in his puppy mind: “THIS is my sheep! I’ll take care of him!”

And so it remained!