A new life for Little Foot

Most people, when they go to Hawaii, bring something back.

Maybe a shell from the beach, a lei from a luau, or a ukulele from the local music store.

I brought home a dog.

It wasn’t something I planned. But it was something I decided to do for the simple reason that I thought maybe we could give one dog a better life.

Let me explain.

I recently spent two weeks on Kauai when my former employer, The Garden Island newspaper, called and asked if I could return temporarily. They wanted to know if I could do my old job as editor, as they were short-handed and with a key player going on vacation, they needed help while he was gone.

They said they would take care of my airfare, lodging, vehicle and pay me my old salary.

As offers like this come along once in a lifetime, I said absolutely and The Press approved my request for a two-week leave of absence.

It was good to be back on Kauai and see old friends, stop by some of my favorite haunts and snorkel with fish and green sea turtles and watch sunsets from the Hanalei Pier.

But I was there to work. One of my stories took me to the Kauai Humane Society, which was overcrowded with dogs, about 90, with kennel space for about 50. Due to the rising rents and housing costs, people were being forced to give up pets to find a place to live, as many don’t allow dogs.

I thought we could help, as we have a large, fenced backyard and one large dog, Reggie, who could use a friend.

As I toured KHS, I was greeted by endless eyes and tongues and teeth and barking. Some hopeful and excited. Others defeated and filled with despair.

I said it needed to be a dog a bit older that gets along with other dogs, not high maintenance as my wife and I both work.

They showed me one dog, a high-energy, smaller pit bull. He looked friendly, but I feared he and Reggie might not do well and could clash in some fierce battles.

Their other suggestion was a dog named Jasmine. A four- to five-year-old beagle, Jack Russell, mix. She was terribly thin. She had been there nearly 100 days, a stray found in the mountains, living on her own for some time. She seemed easy-going and calm, if on the timid side.

She had dark, sad eyes. A soulful face.

I said OK. My wife, while not wild about the idea, gave me the green light.

They took care of the paperwork, I took care of the adoption fees and plane flight, and they met me at the Lihue Airport with Jasmine in her kennel. Some 10 hours later, we arrived at the Spokane Airport. That day, Jasmine became part of our Coeur d'Alene home.

We renamed her, finally settling on Little Foot, at the suggestion of my daughter. It just seemed to fit.

It was a bit of a rough start. Despite their size difference — Reggie is about 75 pounds and she is 30 — they got into several scraps. Old Reggie usually came away with a nick to his face.

We’ve learned she is afraid of almost everything.

With any sudden movement, the slightest unexpected noise, she flees in fright. Some days, she sits on the back deck, on alert for danger that isn't there. She often cowers and when we try to comfort her, she shakes in fear and backs up.

She was never house trained, so she has made some messes. She must have been hit a lot because she keeps her distance, and when we raise our hand to pet her, she flinches. I was told perhaps she had been used as a hunting dog, did poorly and was left to fend for herself. She had babies, so perhaps she was just for breeding purposes.

Our vet, Dr. Bob Erickson of Mountain View Veterinary Clinic, examined her. While she was in basically sound health, he said her teeth were terrible and would need work. He said it was likely due to her living so long on her own and eating whatever she could find.

It’s been nearly a month since she came to live with us.

She is still always on guard.

She and Reggie are getting along much better and even play together in the backyard, though Reggie largely ignores her.

She goes on walks with us but there are days she fights the leash and pulls back, so we don't force it.

She creeps into the house more often. It helps if we pretend we don’t see her. She seems most at ease in the hallway and the bathroom.

I hear her tail thumping against the kennel when I come to let her out each morning, though she quickly darts away, returning only for her morning bowl of food.

She likely suffered trauma for years from which she may never recover.

But we believe she may get there.

This morning I told Little Foot she was a very brave dog and she wagged her tail and smiled before backing up.

Some days, she lets us pet her. She has learned that I’ll share my dinner with her. Recently, she finally barked, I think to alert us to a person with a dog outside the back fence in the alley.

And the other day, she was laying on the back deck, sleeping peacefully.

Sweet dreams, I hope.