Delta didn't start out as Delta. At first she was called Lucy, a frisky yellow lab that followed me while I was walking near the Delta Reservations center one day. Skinny and collar-less, she looked like she had been lost a long time. Worried that she might get hit by car, I decided to try and coax her back to my building, which was about a mile away.
Fortunately a painter was working on a house nearby and lent me a nylon strap so I could use it as a leash and get her safely across a very busy intersection. The local police rolled up at that point and told me he had seen her roaming for most of the day and she was new to the neighborhood. He offered a ride, and while some women like men in uniforms, Lucy isn't one of them. She wasn't about to get in the patrol car with this guy, so we continued our journey on foot.
The police stopped by again, this time with several cans of Vienna sausages for Lucy from the local convenience store. Juggling the treats, a bucking pup, and my cellphone was no easy task, but we made it back to Delta Headquarters in one piece. The guards at the gate seemed a little surprised that I had picked up a companion, but didn't ask for her i.d. and waved us through. After wrestling this 60 pound bundle of energy into the car, I took Lucy home with me, and that's when the fun began.
Being an animal lover (as you can probably tell), I already had a full house with 3 dogs and 5 cats. I couldn't take another dog in permanently, but I could try and find a home for her. The fates were working against us, however. It was the end of the year when most people were enjoying the holidays and not looking for a dog to adopt, especially an older one. The shelters were full and not taking in any new residents. I wasn't panicked yet -- but I soon would be.
Having worked with many rescue groups across the country after Katrina, I had a long list of people I could contact who might possibly help. We frequently ship dogs out of the South to other areas of the country that do not have the homeless pet problem we have here. I contacted every single group I knew, and some I didn't know, and no luck. Lucy's prospects were looking pretty grim.
In the meantime, Lucy was not the grateful guest you would expect after being rescued from the streets. As soon as I brought her home, I let her run outside in my fenced back yard, and she immediately started climbing the fence to get out. Uh-oh, flight risk. She never went outside again without a leash.
My pets are very accepting of just about anything that walks in the door, so I knew they wouldn't have a problem with Lucy. This was not a reciprocal agreement, however. If anyone even looked in the direction of her food or rawhide, she quickly put them in their place. Buster, my dog with a death wish, would routinely steal Lucy's rawhide as soon as we left for a walk. How he hauled a bone as long as he was into his favorite chair, I'm not sure, but it's a good thing Lucy never caught him.
Not trusting her alone with the rest of my crew, I made the mistake of leaving her in a bedroom while I went to lunch with a friend. In just 2 hours, she managed to chew the side of a desk, some woodwork, a wooden blind, and was working on the comforter. Lucy would make the Dog Whisperer throw in the towel. At that point I gave up and packed her in the car for a trip to a shelter that will keep animals until they are adopted.
I had donated lots of time and money to this organization and thought surely they would help me out. I went there with Lucy to plead my case, while she was quaking in fear. They refused to take her, so I ended up packing her back into the car and driving home. At this point, I had pretty much run out of hope. We were stuck with each other, at least for awhile.
Despite her mischievousness, Lucy did earn her keep one morning. On one of our daily o'dark-hundred walks (she's an early riser), we were headed down a street and I heard someone say "hey baby". At this hour of the morning, the only people you usually run into are fellow dog walkers and runners, and they usually don't greet you with "hey baby". Lucy knew something was up and wasn't about to lose her meal ticket. She started barking with a fury that would wake the dead -- along with everyone on the street. She made her point, and the pair took off running. It was tempting to let her off leash so she could go after them, but they'd already had enough of a scare for one day. Very proud of herself, she pranced all the way home.
What to do with this dog? In desperation, I made one last call that was going to be a long shot. I had read a story several months earlier, about a prison in Colorado that takes in rescues and companion animals and trains them. I called the manager of the program and explained the situation and asked (begged!) her to take Lucy into the program. She said she'd give it some thought. In the meantime, she called my vet, where Lucy had day boarded for free, and they vouched for her. Lucy was fine with people, and with a little socialization, she could be a good citizen. The Colorado Prison finally agreed to take Lucy. I was so thrilled, I booked her on the next available Delta flight before they could change their mind!
Though Lucy was a handful, we bonded over the month that she lived with me. She was a sweet, loyal dog that was going to make a great companion for some lucky family. It was very hard to send her off, but I knew this was best for her. And my house could return to normal again.
On a chilly January morning, we drove to the Delta Air Cargo facility for the flight to her new home. I was like a nervous mother making sure her crate door was secure and her sedative for the long flight was kicking in. Lucy was taking this all in stride and was ready for a new chapter in her life. I tracked her progress online to be sure she was loaded on the right flight and that she arrived safely at the cargo center in Denver. Her chauffeur from the Denver prison called me as soon as she picked up Lucy to let me know she was okay, although a little surprised at all the white stuff on the ground in Denver.
Since there were already a lot of Lucys in the program, she was renamed Delta, Colorado Inmate #881. Delta adjusted quickly to her life behind bars and was happy to have a steady stream of affection and 2 squares a day. She bonded quickly with her new handler. Once she completed her training, she was ready for adoption. Her profile was posted to the adoption site and described her as "charismatic, very gentle, with loyalties that run deep". Some lucky family appreciated those qualities, and she rode off with them to her new home.
Dogs can teach you valuable lessons if you are willing to listen, like how to give unconditional love and to revel in the simple joys of life, like a long nap in the warm sun. Delta taught me to have patience. No matter how insurmountable a problem may seem, things always seem to sort themselves out. Wishing you many long naps in the warm sun Delta!
Read the USA Today article about the Colorado Prison Trained K9 Program, "Dogs do time to earn good behavior"
Visit the Colorado Prison site. Click on K-9 Companion
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