My not-so-secret passion

I have volunteered with Pekingese Rescue of South Africa for the past two years.  Several Pekingese came to me as fosters; some I adopted, others I cared for until they found forever homes.
 
The majority of fosters I have taken in are special needs Pekingese.  Mostly severely traumatised and aggressive towards people.  Never before have I taken in a foster who did not settle into my pack within a few minutes until this past Sunday.
 
Coco and Chanel were taken from a breeder about two months ago and found a forever home immediately.  They, however, refused to be cuddled and shied away from people.  Their forever home, unfortunately, turned out to be the opposite, and after only two months with their new parents, they are now in my foster care and up for adoption again.  Why?  Because their new parents had to move house and the place they found does not allow pets.  This is a discussion for another day.
 
I did not realise how badly traumatised Coco and Chanel were until I arrived home with them.  I noticed, when I collected them, that they were skittish.  This is strange for Pekes as they are generally extremely friendly and want to share kisses.
 
I have a particular introduction procedure for new dogs on my property, and in the past 15 years, it has always worked.  My own pack is left inside the house while the new dog gets a couple of minutes to sniff its new surroundings.  One of my pack members is then let outside and allowed to sniff the new dog.  After 15 minutes, the second of my pack is let out, so it goes.  With my pack of eight, it takes about two hours to complete the introduction.
 
But on Sunday, this procedure failed.  As I let the new dogs out, they ran to the closest corner, shivering in fear, not moving.  I let one of my pack out, and the new dogs tried to climb up the wall, seriously!  I took the one from my pack back inside and let another one of mine out. Same thing.
 
For three days, I kept Coco and Chanel separate from my own pack ... never before did I do that.  I tried introducing them every day, but it was a disaster each time.  Today, on their 5th day in my foster care, the improvement they show is unbelievable.
 
They allow me to hold them and even turn on their backs for tummy rubs, whereas two days ago, they ran for cover when I approached them.  They come when I call instead of running into the closest corner.  They stepped into the doggy room and sat there for an hour before walking outside into the presence of my own pack.  Although they raced for the furthest corner on our 2,400m2 property, they eventually, after another hour, slowly moved around between my pack.  They came back into the house without me having to chase after them for an hour.  They had dinner in a room adjacent to where my pack sits down for a meal instead of in a room on the other side of the house.  
 
As I am typing this note, they are each lying in their own bed in the same room as my pack, peacefully sleeping.
 
Two days ago, I wanted to give up on Coco and Chanel.  I called Peke Rescue and told them I couldn't do it.  My hubby said that I should not give up on these poor creatures and give them time.
 
Now I am glad I didn't give up on them.  It has taken hours of trying to gain their trust.  It takes hours of sitting quietly without making any move that would scare them off.  Hours of holding them tight so they cannot jump out of my arms.  Hours of walking with them in my arms around the garden with the rest of my pack following us.  Hours of dedication and sometimes even a little forced discipline for the two newcomers to show them that I am the pack leader and they have to fit into my pack come hell or high water.
 
This is only the beginning, and it could take another two days or another two months before they are rehabilitated and ready for a home.  Sometimes they never fully recover from their trauma, as my Jonah did (RIP). Then they usually become a permanent member of my pack because I don't feel that anyone else will dedicate so much time to keep them from relapsing into old habits.  
 
I am trying to say that being a foster parent to traumatised animals is not for everyone.  I want to thank my Dad for always encouraging me to help animals.  If it was not an injured sparrow, it was helping him raise canary chicks abandoned by their mothers.  The most special rehabilitation I was part of was the Marsh Owl when I was in early high school.  The vet treated the owl and put it in my care for rehabilitation.  His injuries did not allow him to be released, and once his wounds were healed, I took him to the Joburg Zoo, where I visited him every year until he was no longer there one day. I remember how he threatened me when I stepped into his cage but I am fearless, and after a couple of weeks, he was eating from my hand.   There is nothing more rewarding than gaining an animal's trust, helping it heal not only physical injuries but mental injuries as well.
 
If I had all the money in the world, I would focus all my time and energy on working at rehabilitation centres. 
 
Thank you for letting me share my secret passion with you ...