Hello, It's Jasper (& Fam)
Hello, it’s Jasper!
My life changed on August 11th, 2018 when a nursing student, named Samantha, stumbled upon a Facebook live. Waiting in the Taco Bell drive-through for her favorite Strawberry Skittles Freeze, she watched as a Texas shelter desperately pleaded to their community. “Foster or adopt,” they begged. Having wanted to adopt for the longest time, Samantha watched. Sure, she wouldn’t be able to adopt, but she could dream, right? Being hundreds of miles away in Georgia couldn’t stop her from admiring the adorable pups. Each adoptable pup received it’s screen time, but one, in particular, caught her eye…and her ear. Throughout the video, a constant cry could be heard. It was loud and distinct. Eventually, the shelter flashed the crying pup as they fed it a few treats. Instantly, Samantha was drawn in. The pup wore a goofy smile and had droopy ears that perked out like a pair of Doritos chips. It was a bit scruffy and obviously a crier, but she was intrigued. As the video continued on, she hoped for another glimpse of the pup. Her mind was reeling. What was its name? How old was it? Was it a boy or a girl? Then, her answers came. “This is Hunter,” the worker spoke. Hunter was a long term resident of the shelter who had been moved into a small cage in the shelter’s multipurpose room (in order to make room for newer intakes). “This is the worst we have had our space in over a year,” the volunteer explained. Shortly after, Ice blue gems in a dark cage caught Samantha’s eye. Looking closer, she realized that it was Hunter. At that moment, she knew. She had to save him. Calling her husband, Kenny, she explained the situation. He was not as enthused. Sure, adopting a pup sounded great, but the timing was not ideal. Samantha was finishing up college in Georgia and Kenny was stationed in Texas (Go Army, Hooah!). Regardless, she sat in the Taco Bell drive-through begging her husband to drive two hours in the pouring rain to adopt this pup. She cried. She cried HARD. Eventually, Kenny caved and agreed to meet the pup. He wasn’t guaranteeing he would adopt him, but he would at least meet Hunter.
After a dreary drive battling the Austin traffic, Kenny arrived at the shelter. Approaching the front desk, he pulled out a screenshot of Hunter. “My wife and I were wondering if you still had this dog?” he inquired. Ecstatic for a potential adoption, the worker swiftly retrieved Hunter from his cage. After a few minutes of waiting, a jovial pup came prancing around the corner. That pup was me, Hunter the hound dog.
When I first laid eyes on Kenny, I was ecstatic. “A
On the ride to my new home, I was ecstatic. I smiled and bounced around the car with delight. Eventually, I squeezed as close to Kenny as I could. Making myself comfortable behind him in the snug driver’s seat, we headed home. It was perfect. Snuggling his side, I just couldn’t get enough. There he was, my Dog Dad.
Rolling up to my new home was magical. It was a quaint two-story house nestled inside Fort Hood. My favorite part was the fenced backyard that was perfect for sunbathing and digging (LOTS of digging).
For the next few months, I bonded with my new Dad. I didn’t know how to play fetch, but I loved the toy lamb he bought me. I wasn’t leash trained for walks, but movie night was our thing. Learning to be a normal pup was hard. I would scarf down my food at first sight, didn’t know how to bark, and hooman affection was new to me. Once I finally started to settle in, everything changed.
In September, I finally met Samantha. My new dog Mom was the coolest. Before moving in with us, she resided in Georgia while finishing her nursing degree. Dog Dad had been stationed in Japan and Texas without her for a few years, but now she was finally moving in with her boys. It was great. It was also bittersweet. You see, dog Dad had received orders to deploy. He would be gone for nearly a year and his deployment date was less than two weeks away. We basked in the brief time we were able to share together, but the fateful day came still came.
Deployment day was rough. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I gave dog Dad his farewell kisses as he hugged me extra tight. I eagerly awaited his return, but only Mom came home this time. Why would he leave me with this strange lady? Sure, she was my new Mom, but that didn’t mean I trusted her. Thus far, I had received no training. Dog Dad always said, “You’re Sam’s dog. She’s going to train you.” It was true. I did whatever I wanted when I lived alone with Dad. Counter surfing, rambunctious play, and leash pulling were my specialties. When it was just Mom and I, things changed. She gave me rules and put boundaries in place. I was not a fan.
While I was an absolute sweetheart, I did come from a troubled past. Thus far, my life had consisted of abuse and neglect (which eventually lead to abandonment). Safety was a foreign concept to me. Therefore, when Mom came barreling into my life with training, I was afraid. Before I was adopted, raised voices meant that bad things would happen. “No” was what the evil people said before they hurt me. Mom didn’t know this. She knew that I had scars from cigarette burns littering my skin and that I was easily frightened. What she lacked was the knowledge of how to train a dog that came from abuse.
After weeks of struggling to train me, she reached out for help. Setting up a consultation, she met with a trainer and enrolled me in a basic obedience course. I already had my rudimentary doggo skills down (You know the old sit and lay down), but I was still riddled with fear. Obedience training would help and Mom needed the guidance of a professional to ensure she didn’t screw it up.
Our training journey was a bit of a roller coaster. Most days were great, but there were also the NOT so great days. I was extremely smart, but I still had a deep rooted fear of being attacked for doing something wrong. I would bombard Mom to steal her food, destroy valuable items, and constantly jump for hugs. Her natural response was to tell me, “No.” This took me back to a place of fear. Even though I was in a safe environment and Mom would never hurt me, I didn’t understand that yet.
When my training started, I picked up tricks and commands easily. I struggled, however, with my impulses. Play time really meant tackle time. Dinner was a game of capture the flag (aka capture the pizza). While walks were more like drags. Dog Mom was not amused. Honestly, she had started to look like a zebra from all the scratches my hugs gave her. Mom often questioned herself, “Can I train this crazy dog?” The answer was, “Yes.”
By November, Mom and the trainers had figured out my language. New phrases, such as “leave it”, were used to indicate an incorrect behavior. Any negative response made my fear escalate, therefore, new methods were implemented. When I jumped, Mom would walk away. When I barked, I was met with silence. Over time, I came to recognize that my behaviors were unnecessary. Smelly treats were sprinkled my way and no danger ever came. We started to work on my fear of raised voices and sudden movements. Eventually, I was unfazed by my previous fears.
Trust takes time. We never did pinpoint an exact moment when the change happened. It felt as though I became a new, confident pup overnight. Just like any creature, I thrived on having a routine. Wake up at three in the morning. Mom would make breakfast. We’d take a walk. You get the gist. Every day was different, but slightly the same. I felt safe.
By Christmas, I had traded my bed in the corner for snuggles on the couch. Training was the most exciting part of my day and I was constantly going on new adventures with Mom. Having postponed my basic obedience test to visit family, I finally took my exit exam. Of course, I passed with flying colors! I was living my best life, but sadly dog Mom was not living hers.
Since moving to Texas, Samantha’s health had started to take a turn for the worst. Nausea, fainting spells, and other unexpected symptoms started to arise. She felt like a sinking ship. Depression from her failing health and deployed husband hit hard. All alone in a new state, she sought help.
Becoming the patient was hard, but having to change her entire lifestyle was harder. No working out alone, no hikes, no skydiving, no ANYTHING that she loved. Researching solutions, she stumbled across a training video detailing service dogs. She was fascinated. These dogs were amazing! Excited, she listened to the stories of service dog handlers. They were just like her. People with the same or similar conditions had task trained service dogs that helped them. “Could Jasper become my service dog?” She thought. You’re damn skippy he could.
We started with the basics and kept it fun. One task lead to another and before we knew it, I had learned more than twenty tasks. Some tasks were small, but others were life-changing. With my help, dog Mom had regained control of her life. She could go on adventures without fear and she was happier.
By the time Kenny returned from deployment, I was a new dog. Gone was the rebellious hell hound. In his stead was a well mannered pup equipped with a plethora of tasks. Prepare yourselves, dog Dad’s homecoming was a real tear jerker.
After our joyful family reunion, we settled into a new routine and prepared for an exciting road trip across the United States. I think I can call myself a well traveled doggo after visiting twelve states in one year. Train rides to the Grand Canyon, camping in the Mojave desert, and sand boarding at White Sand’s National Monument could all be marked off my bucket list. I even celebrated my first adoption anniversary at Disneyland!
You would think that was enough excitement for one year, but life decided to throw us a curve ball (or I guess the Army did). Shortly after returning from our road trip, we received orders that we were moving to Germany. That’s right, GERMANY!
We were thrilled! Living abroad was something Mom and Dad had always wanted to experience together. However, we were also stressed (VERY stressed). There was so much to plan and, honestly, not much time. The next few months were a whirlwind of packing, shipping our possessions, and saying goodbye to our loved ones (Don’t worry, we’ll be posting a blog about the processes ASAP). The week before thanksgiving, we finally arrived. Home sweet Germany!
All in all, that’s my story (or at least the condensed version). We started with Facebook and good old Taco Bell, then somehow ended up in Europe. A shelter pup turned service dog traveling the world with his handler, what more could a good boy ask for?
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