Our Thankful we were Adopted Stories

My Adoption Story

By

Frankie Furter Price

I am Adopted and very much happy about that. I was born to parents who were Show Dogs. They have many many trophies and awards for how perfect they are. Every litter of puppies has one that is called the RUNT. That was Not me. However, for some reason, I just did not grow long enought or tall enough to meet breed standards for showing. My brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and all my cousins made fun of me. They actually named me TINY TIMMY. I felt terrible about that.

Every time I was called by name I was reminded that I was not a perfect DACHSHUND. I began to withdraw into a deep shell. I quit trying to be like everyone else. I just wanted to be left alone. I didn't feel that I was cute or smart or even worth living. I started being afraid of things and I never did learn to love and trust people. I didn't measure up. I was a misfit among all that perfection. I never thought things would change. No one would ever want me.

While all of that was going on, my adoptive parents were going through a really rough time. They had lost one short haired dacshund named Duchess Lisel Von Schnitzel when she was 13 years old. That left a hole in their hearts, even though they still had the twin boys, Sarek and Baron VonSchnitzel who were then 13. Next they lost Sarek when he was 14 1/2. The hole in their hearts got bigger. And when Baron crossed the Rainbow Bridge at almost 16 years old, they thought they could never stand to go through that pain ever again. They said that they were just TOO OLD TO FACE THE HEARTACHE AGAIN. They were almost ready to retire. They wanted no more "tie downs" of any sort. They agreed... to live the rest of their lives dachshundless.

These people loved their dachshunds sooooo much that within two days of Baron's passing they knew they could not face another morning without hearing the click click of toenails when they woke in the morning. They could not sit in their 'cliner chairs because they were too empty. Their lives were not the same without a dachshund. They had not been without one or two or three at a time for over 30 years.

So they started the search. Every conversation resulted in tears of grief over the loss of the "last one of our little dachshund fleet". Sometimes they would have to tell the person... "Oh, God. I can't talk about this right now. I'll call you back in a little while." Then my soon to be mom would just sob and sob. She missed the three who were gone. She was miserable. She needed another dachshund to fill her life. So did my future dad. Sooo, she would dial the number again... and try to tell the story and ask if they had any dachshund that needed a home. Call after call went like that. Crying begging hanging up, then trying that number again. She must have called fifteen different sources. Finally she got through to the home were I was living. She was told that they had one dog that wasn't up to standards. IT... was eleven months old and no one really wanted it because it was just too little. What a stroke of good fortune that was for all three of us.

Mom had to hang up three times before she was able to make arrangements to come and meet me. I was the ONLY one they looked at. My new dad grabbed me and went right back to Jennifer Jeep, calling over his shoulder,"Pay the lady." to my new mom.

I don't know why the decided to take me. They had never had a Long Haired Dachshund. I was dirty and stinky. I tried to hide from them, but one puppy kept grabbing my tail and pulling me out into the room. I was scared and shivering. I had never had a collar on. I had never been "potty trained". I was not abused, but I certainly was not "AT HOME".

My new mom and dad threw out that AWFUL name right away. No more Tiny Timmy. Frankie Furter became my name. But I did still have some terrible hurdles to overcome. I needed to learn a million new things. I needed to have that "certain type" surgery. Basically I needed to be RE-BORN. I became my mom and dad's CHANGE OF LIFE PUPPY.

They feel so very lucky to have me. I fit their lifestyle to perfection. Can you believe that. A dog that didn't "MEET BREED STANDARDS" suddenly became PERFECT. So I guess you could say that, on this hill, there are THREE VERY HAPPY CREATURES. I am LOVED and I LOVE them back. We are all three THANKFUL to be together.
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>>>>>>>>>>>>>>THIS IS Sargent's (A.K.A. Sarge) Adoption Story <<<<<<<<<<<<<
I am canine candidate Sergeant and this is my report.



I live in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania with my handlers and am awaiting assignment. I have sworn to protect and to serve.



Current Residence: In a rural area of northwestern Pennsylvania in the wilderness. One story, wood house with outdoor, raised observation deck and secured perimeter.



Description: Mother of mixed racial background. Father unknown, but certainly German Shepherd, the best of all police dogs. I have Shepherd features, but a smaller size, and a yellow Labrador coat. I have the Shepherd loyalty and fierce nature, and the Labrador smarts, affection and humor. I am in peak physical condition.



Distinguishing Characteristics: Broken tail from an accident in my youth. Tongue spotted pink and black.



History: Born in March, 2006 to a single mother in a public housing facility. My family had nothing. Adopted May, 2006 by my Alpha and Beta Handlers, having been picked from a wide field of other candidates, then moved to current address.



Summary: I was lucky to be adopted by my handlers. I am deeply bonded to them. The Alpha Handler is now “Dad” and the Beta is “Mom”. How lucky that Dad was a cop! I have learned from him. This along with my Shepherd heritage and brains make me a strong candidate for patrol duty. When I was adopted, Dad and Mom were crying for a former companion K9 and I was crying for escape from my home conditions. I helped them feel better and they helped me feel better. We bonded.

I continue to learn from Dad and television about my work. I will rise above my humble birth and be a real Sergeant. Conditioning is a priority. I run laps and do my own agility programs. I train daily. Local wildlife provides stalking, sprinting, and attacking practice. By protecting my handlers and my territory from trespassers and thieves, I keep my wits and skills sharp. My teeth are sharp too. Sometimes Dad takes me to a corrections facility where I can work undercover to study the criminal element. This is hard, but an important part of my training. I am given training tools to practice my shredding and to sharpen my teeth and nails.

With other humans and animals I remain guarded. I can be kind, but I am naturally suspicious. Crime and danger are everywhere and I must be ready. I do admit to a chip on my shoulder that makes me defiant sometimes, but makes me a tougher responder. I am smaller than most K9 units, so I use bluff and gruff to compensate.

I am a smart dog. Dad isn’t a cop anymore and my training isn’t complete, but I learn fast and I am ready. I love a challenge. I am quick to judge and dominate. I project an air of confidence and authority. I practice controlling situations.

I also have love for Mom and Dad. I have a good sense of humor. They give to me and I give back to them. Mom and I enjoy our humor. I bring training tools to Mom and Dad mostly when it is funny. I stretch and lay about to make them laugh. I leap in the air and twist during agility training both to work and to amuse. To sharpen my senses, I once smelled and licked Dad’s pillow to imprint on his scent. This amused Mom and agitated Dad. I don’t understand why, but I now use this to strengthen my stalking skills. I sneak around dad and watch for opportunities to raid his pillow. This has become great exercise and fun. Sometimes I am a rascal so that Mom and Dad are challenged too. I give them love and fun and they give me love and fun. We are strongly bonded partners.



Summary: I am sure footed, quick minded and intensely waiting. Someday I will be officially sworn to duty. Until then I will continue to train, protect, amuse, and wait.



Submitted 16, November 2009

Sergeant