Lessons from Roxy: Trust

The loss of Roxy has taken a little longer to recover from. For a number of different reasons, not the least of which is nearly 15 years with her teaching me more about dog training and behaviour every day. I still talk about her, use her as both a cautionary tale and success story. And so I am drawn to blog about some of the lessons she taught, just like I did for Winston after he passed away (you can search for those too if you like).

It seems important to start with the lesson on trust. Maybe more accurately commitment.

Roxy was a foster dog. She had been in several homes before us. We believe she was born in an RSPCA shelter and was desexed at around 9-weeks of age due to their policies. At around a year and a half she was surrendered to the rescue we adopted Winston from and were volunteering with, the Animal Welfare League Hawkesbury Valley Branch. We had just had a foster dog adopted and were open to our next one. The coordinator gave us a choice to foster a puppy or Roxy, and we went to the boarding kennel where they both were to meet them.

We chose Roxy as, as much as we wanted a cute quick & easy foster puppy, she had a greater need. She paced the yard with little interest in us, she was kind of scrawny, her coat dull. She needed stability and training and love. She was thought to be a German Shepherd mix, I thought maybe with Kelpie (a DNA test later revealed she’s mostly Belgian Malinois, of course). We immediately work putting some training into her, getting a routine set, and trying to build trust with her. She certainly had her own ideas about how things could work, but was a super fast learner.

First pic we took of her

After 3 or 4 months she finally got adoption interest and went on trial. We briefed them about what we had seen as we expected some regression with the change. They seemed perfect… But after a week she had an outburst and we went to collect her. I call it an outburst not to gloss over it but to give context – it was an aggressive display, very similar to one we had seen here at home after Dean had a shower. It wasn’t her new dad’s first shower, but it was the only day he worked so the routine was different. In both instances I believe she was responding to the visual change. It took us a second to diffuse and help her recover with Dean, and it never happened again. The new owners did not want to take any chances with regular visits from grandchildren.

We continued to work with her and of course grew to love her, as you do with fosters. Except she was starting to escape the property, and be more challenging to manage. We almost gave up on her. We asked if she might go to the shelter to get promoted better because the branch had tried a lot and there was little interest. As we were discussing the possibilities, she had another enquiry, a successful meet & greet, and off she went! With a full training history & disclosure of her potential outbursts, an experienced home, AND it looked like she chose the dad too.

Taken the day she left for her second adoption attempt

Three months later the dad called us, drunk, and threatened to euthanise her if we didn’t take her back. They were 3-hours away and we had another foster dog. We couldn’t commit to anything on the rescue’s behalf. I had to refer him to the rescue coordinator to work something out. It was really upsetting. I remember Dean saying “we’ll just adopt her then”, and I told the rescue coordinator hoping this would help her be able to arrange something temporary and keep her alive. She ended up back to the boarding kennel where we first met her that weekend, and we hoped she wouldn’t have to stay there long.

Our other foster, a Border Collie named Indy, suddenly also had interest. So it was around a week later I think we went to collect her. She barely acknowledged us, just jumped straight into the car like she knew, and she walked back in at home like she owned the place. We say she wasn’t a foster fail, she imposed herself upon us.

Back where she belongs

Here’s the thing though. She never tried to escape the property again. She did bite her way out of the dog run (that we were still using due to the fear of escape), but was just hanging out in the yard with Winston – didn’t seem to even try. Not even with the gate open. She might walk down to the gate following the car, but never go past that. Suddenly, all the physical and psychological barriers worked.

It was like she knew she was home. Or that our mindsets had shifted from “foster dog” to “our dog”. That we had truly committed to her. All was right in her doggy world.

If we showed her some trust, she would prove just how trustworthy she could be. A two-way street like trust should be. A walking lesson in trust.

I should say: there is NO SHADE to any of those previous owners or attempted adoptions. She was a lot of dog and it is important to recognise if you are not the right fit for a dog. Things don’t always align like they did for us. Not to mention that if any of those homes had worked, we would not have had this lesson, any of her lessons, or any of the joy and magic she brought us.

I miss you Roxy. Is bullshit.

Vale 8th October 2009 ~ 13th January 2025