This is Burton’s story.

Burton was a 9–month old emaciated boxer-lab who looked completely frightened and depressed behind the glass cage at the Denver Dumb Friends League when I first saw him in December of 2002. Rightfully so, he had been wandering the streets of Denver the first 9 months of his life and had definitely been abused by people. He sat there in the empty middle of the cold yellow cement cage floor, eyes slowly closing, trying to shut out the cries and whines of the lonely and forgotten, the sad and confused, as an older, more dominant brendel terrier/boxer mix paced back and forth in front of the glass cage. Burton breathed in and let out a heavy sigh, every rib in his abused body becoming visible as he seemed to be trying to exhale his horrible memories of cold, snowy nights alone outside in Colorado.

Despite the depressing environment and situation, anyone would fall in love with Burton’s huge water-filled brown puppy-dog eyes and gorgeous reddish-brown color, and you could feel an energy and goodness trying hard to radiate beneath the emaciated, damaged exterior.

I met Burton in the waiting room. The volunteer at Denver Dumb Friends League who brought him to me seemed almost as scared as Burton before the introduction. She informed me he was enrolled in their Head Start program to make unadoptable dogs adoptable and still had a lot to learn. He had no history and wasn’t recommended for a house with other pets or children and I signed a release waiver if he bit me or did any damage.

But love is love. Burton came eagerly into the room, he couldn’t be held back by the volunteer holding the leash. He came right into the room, paws desperately scurrying around for footing on the tile floor as he jumped straight into my lap. Mouth open, tongue hanging to the side, panting — the dog that two minutes ago seemed so sad and helpless was full of life and energy! “I’m yours! I love you, be my Daddy!” Burton said.

The first few weeks I quickly learned Burton was definitely going to need some outside help. His first week at home he jumped a 5–foot cement fence and then a 4–foot wood one on top of it in a sunken yard area in the blink of an eye to chase down an off-leash chihuahua. It was difficult to tell what his intent was, he didn’t bite or nip at the little Mexican pup, just put his paws up in typical Boxer style. On the strong suggestion of DDFL I took Burton to the pet behavior exports at Animal Behavior Associates and learned techniques for socializing Burton, helping him be a better member of society.

Burton was incredibly warm and snuggly and loving in the home, extremely well-behaved when he was just with me and a better best friend than anyone could hope to ask for; he had that unconditional love that all dogs posess but also that rare kind of humanistic exression of it that maybe 5–10% of dogs do. But he had a protective instinct that could not be overcome too. Any sudden move by a stranger or dog that might be a threat to me or Burton, and Burton was at the ready to defend. He nipped at a couple people that came to visit in my home, and he was always on alert within 10 feet of other dogs. I took Burton off the streets, but I couldn’t take the street out of Burton.

So I quickly learned to adjust with help from ABA and for 7 years it was easy to work around Burton’s borderline behavior. I would stay clear of off-leash dogs, had a long set of checkpoints to follow when introducing Burton to any other animal, and a regiment of standing, waiting, and treats was par for the course for anyone coming inside my home. As a consequence I rarely had people over and developed animal-like instincts of potential problems in any environment to be one step ahead of Burton’s possible intent. But I never once questioned it — just like a child with a handicap it was my responsibility as a parent to accept unequivocably and help Burton get along the best he could, and even through the most difficult of times love makes the frustrations or struggles go away. I helped Burton get along in this world, and to be sure he returned the favor. There were a couple times I felt more out of place in this world than Burton and he was the sole reason that kept me going. All I needed was one “hug” where he put his arms on his shoulders and pressed his head hard against my cheek or his trademark “knucklepunch” with a tilt of his head and sly smile or one of his many other commands of affection he knew to make any tough time disappear.   

Earlier this year, it came time for my living situation to change for reasons of both romantic possibility and financial practicality. I was moving in with my girlfriend — unquestionably “the one” — and she had two small Italian Greyhounds burton would not be compatible with. I took Burton to Ted Turroux’s Dog Training to, again, help Burton be more socialized and give him the best chance possible to either get along with her dogs or at minimum have a great “second chance” at life after me. But with each passing week, any initial hope I had for keeping Burton as my best friend diminished. As a smart 7 year-old he knew all the basic obedience commands just fine: sit, stay, heel, come, etc. But putting Burton in an environment with 20 other dogs is like landing on Omaha Beach on D-Day: training goes out the window and the instincts take over. It was difficult to manage Burton in training, but we got along. But I still couldn’t take the street out of Burton. That alert instinct was still there.

After the 8–week training I spent another 8–weeks coming to terms that I would not be able to keep Burton and tried to place him in the best possible environment. I quickly learned from people like Ted that taking Burton back to DDFL another humane society was not an option. Burton had three strikes against him:

1.  He was old.
2. He was big.
3. He had borderline behavior issues.

This stunned me, that though his socialization and behavior improved tremendously with me, Burton was a strong candidate for euthanization?!? He had never bitten anyone! Surely there must be someone out there, like me, who would fall in love with Burton and adjust to his issues.

I furiously began calling and emailing every no-kill shelter I could find in Colorado on a daily basis. I quickly learned that, because of the economy, people are surrending animals at a rate shelters haven’t experienced in 20 years. The first two questions any shelter would ask me were “how big is he?”, “how old?” and that was followed by “we don’t have room, we’re full.” Click. Goodbye. On top of the terseness, to my dismay a very large portion of the so-called “dog people” in rescues were extremely quick to revile me given the chance, without afording me the chance to explain Burton’s history, the full situation we faced, or the work I’d done to help Burton. Many were quick to prejudge and stereotype me as an Irresponible Pet Owner. It reinforced for me stereotypes many people have about “dog people” who work with rescues — not what I expected to find in Colorado, a state where people value their dogs more than anything.

Trying daily for a few hours a day for 8 weeks I was unable to place Burton in either a no-kill shelter, a foster environment, or find a suitable owner on my own. I took Burton to the best option available, the low-kill Boulder Valley Humane Society, on Good Friday, April 10 2009.

Continued in Part 2….