Change Is Hard

Penny has been spoiled and so have her mom and dad. When we’ve needed her to be somewhere besides our house during the last almost two years, we’ve been able to deposit her back with her breeder for a few days or even a week.

She loves her Mama S, and is always excited to be there, and we’re thrilled that she’s safe and in a happy place. But we can’t assume that Mama S. will always be available when we need to be somewhere else.

We need a backup plan.

So for the past week I’ve been searching for the right kennel, somewhere that will treat her well, and keep her safe, even if she won’t be entirely happy to be there. I started with the vet, asking them to give us names and numbers of kennels they recommend.

I got three options.

Let me stop right here and tell you that you can’t believe everything you read or see on the internet. I looked for websites for each of the three, writing notes about hours, services, reviews. Then I got in the car and began visiting, intending to just show up without warning and see what was what.

The first place, my pick based on location and information on the web, looked like a very nice residence, with no evidence of it being a kennel. That made me hesitant to just go ring the doorbell, so I sat in my car down the street and called them. Turns out they were retired and no longer taking pets.

Well darn.

The second place looked OK from the very busy street, a lot of pole barn type buildings, a big parking lot, signs and hours posted. Inside was the owner and we talked a long time. I liked her philosophy about not letting dogs meet each other, but was worried that outdoor play time cost an additional $3.00 a time.

I kind of wonder if those walks really happen.

I asked her if I could see the place my girl would be, and the owner walked me into the back area, which was dark (lights off because the air wasn’t working she said) and had maybe 30 runs each separated from the next a by chain link fence. There was no outdoor space and no natural light.

Though I think she’d be safe, I couldn’t imagine my girl being happy in this dark, warm, noisy place.

So I moved on to the third option. The website made it seem acceptable, lots of pictures of dogs, nothing specific, nothing about paying extra for anything. But I couldn’t find the building. I drove up and down the short road past very expensive houses, and didn’t see anything that looked like a kennel. There was an old stone building with a fence and a gate and barbed wire, but the gate was closed.

So I drove down the street and called. Sure enough, that old stone building was the kennel. I drove back and the woman working there had opened the gate. There was a piece of notebook paper taped to one of the doors that said “Office.”

I hesitently opened the door. Inside was a desk, a phone, and some crates stacked up against the back wall. The ceiling tiles were all warped and stained with water damage. The floor tile, of asbestos vintage, was chipped and broken. No one was there.

The smell was horrific.

As I was contemplating backing out of the building, the employee walked into the office from the back, the dogs barking behind her. Wearing a tank top and sweating because there was no air, she told me she lets all the dogs out into the yard “3 or 4 times a day,” using the space in front where I was currently parked, which is why the gate was closed. She told me she would give the dogs any meds they needed, feed them up to three times a day if required. “Anything they need, I’ll do,” she said.

Just for giggles I asked if I could see where my girl would be. In the back room were several dogs in crates not much bigger than they were, and the smell was worse. I smiled thinly and said “thank you,” and got the heck out of dodge while she was still talking to me.

In my car, while driving away I said, out loud, that it would be a cold day in…well you know…before I’d board so much as a pet lizard there, much less my girl.

So I started from scratch. I researched three more kennels, a couple of them located near me, and the one we took Bonnie and Katie to years ago which is about 30 minutes away. One of the close by kennels never had an employee in their office during the hours their website says they are available. So after two attempts to talk to someone they’re now off my list. The other one that’s close by gave me an appointment time to stop by next week. It’s a very small kennel with good reviews. We’ll see.

And lastly I drove out to the kennel I’ve trusted for years, realizing (now that I’d seen the innards of kennels) that I had never had a tour and I had no idea what it was really like. I was greeted with a smile and given a gracious tour on the spot. Big individual kennels, with cement walls between them. Each dog gets two “rooms” so they can potty in one if they want to, but they’re taken outside individually 3 times a day to fenced and grassy play yards where they’re allowed to wander around for 15-20 minutes each time. There are heated floors in the winter, and music playing all the time. There’s an emergency vet on the property.

It’s still a kennel and I’m sure my girl would rather be with her Mama S. That will always be our first choice, but I feel good that I have a plan B. I’m going to schedule Penny for a one night evaluation (a requirement of that last kennel) soon, so we’ll know how she does.

Searching for the perfect kennel reminds me very much of when we were looking for long term care housing for Bruce’s aunt. You pretty much know when you walk in the door whether you want your family member to stay there. Don’t trust reviews, go see for yourself before you make such an important decision. Most of them, kennels or nursing homes, are nowhere near good enough for our family members, furbabies or not.