Pulled: Friday October 21, 2011 from Richmond County Animal Shelter
Adoption commitment: None, still available
Meet Morven, a 1-year-old Schnauzer mix.
Out of all the dogs we saw at the shelter (and there were TONS), Morven was clearly the most terrified. He was in the farthest corner of his kennel, shaking from head to toe, and growling.
“He hasn’t let anyone touch him since he got here,” Allison explained. To illustrate, she walked in, speaking kindly to him. He amplified the growling and snapped.
“I’ll take him!” I said, though he wasn’t part of the plan. We were supposed to get puppy fosters, two for me and two for my foster-in-crime, Trina. But, Whitney from Last Chance always tells me to get as many as I want (which is all of them, but alas). And, I still have a thing for Heathcliff dogs.
Casey looked at me like I was a crazy person. Allison looked at me like she’d hit the lottery.
Twenty minutes later, while Casey was snapping photos of pups left behind and Allison was up front, I walked in with Morven on a leash.
Allison: “How’d you do that?!”
Casey, underwhelmed: “It’s what she does.”
My secret? I just struck an Edisto pose (belly down, arms out) right there on the concrete in front of his open kennel door. — kind of a “put your hands up” pose, but flat on the ground. He was intrigued. I then tried to give him water and food out of my hands. He decided that he didn’t like the food, but that he liked me. Hurrah!
I still haven’t been able to give him a bath, yet. He doesn’t trust me that much. — but baby steps.
The name, of course, was a problem. His previous owners, who had surrendered him (apparently because he was too protective of their kids), named him Bubba. Casey and I agreed that he isn’t a Bubba. Plus, he’s my V. — another sad letter for naming fosters.
But, on the way home:
Casey: “I know! Morven!”
Me: “Awesome! But where’s Morven?”
Casey: “We’re in it!”
Morven is in North Carolina, rather than South Carolina, but it’s the first NC town we hit after SC, so it’s close. Plus, Morven’s a NC dog anyway. Morven reminds us both of the name Mordred, King Arthur’s nemesis, and seems to fit such a growling fluff of a guy.
We were confirmed in our decision after getting to my parents’ house in McBee and seeing the following sign about a second from my house:
This prompted Casey to roll his eyes at me and say that I’m one of the least observant people he knows.
More to come on Morven, who I’m convinced is the sweetest dog ever underneath his growl. He has taken to Jack and is napping by his crib as I type.
I’ll write again, post bath (his, not mine).
Fostering Chester 
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