A couple of weeks ago, I took apart the Great Dane-sized crate that’s been living in my office and said I was taking a break from fostering. And then, as these things tend to go, I found myself putting the crate back together again.

A 7-month-old Lab/German Shepherd-mix got adopted by a woman who quickly became overwhelmed by the dog’s over-exuberant, physical interaction. She was jumping up, mouthing, and nipping. If the woman sat down, the dog would leap into her lap and start rough, physical play. And the dog was going to the bathroom all over the house! The adopter called the shelter, asking for a referral to a trainer, and they gave her my number. When she called me, sobbing, she admitted that she was thinking of bringing the dog back to the shelter, because she was just too much! But at the same time, the woman already loved the dog and didn’t want her to be at risk of euthanasia if she was returned!

I visited the woman in her home to assess the dog and the situation. Yes, the dog jumps and is mouthy, but she stopped these rude behaviors when I kept turning my back to her. The dog is not going to be huge and she’s smart; I had her offering sit and down and calmly accepting petting (with all four feet on the floor) within just a few minutes. The woman was equipped with a large crate (though she hadn’t been able to get the dog to quiet down in there, so she gave up on crating her). She had a large yard (though the fence needs some work). And she works a split shift, so she could actually come home in the middle of her work day to let the dog out of a crate and take her for a walk (if she could get her into the crate and get her to tolerate the crate, and work on her leash manners).

It wasn’t hopeless. But the dog, who had been in the shelter for four months, needs to learn a ton before she’s going to be much fun to live with. Because I think it’s possible for the dog and woman to work things out, and because I don’t want to see this dog go back to the shelter (where her prospects at this awkward age in a shelter crowded with younger, cuter puppies are not good), and because the woman can’t possibly afford all the training this youngster needs to be bearable to live with ASAP, I offered to foster her for a couple weeks. This would give the woman time to work on her fence and think about whether she’s really up for the challenge, and give the dog some training and manners so she’d be more adoptable if the woman does decide to return her to the shelter. She readily agreed.

Over the past decade or so, I’ve mostly fostered puppies who were less than 8 weeks old, keeping them until they were old enough to have spay/neuter surgery and get adopted. But when I first started fostering for my local shelter, I used to take on one ignorant teenaged dog after another, and teach them a few basic cues (sit, down, wait, and come), how to politely greet other dogs and humans, and to follow house rules (No helping yourself to human belongings! No counter-surfing! No going potty in the house!), until they could be presented to potential adopters as reasonably civilized young dogs. It’s not the most enjoyable type of fostering—but it’s demonstrably more critically needed.

When we raise puppies in our homes, they learn and absorb so much more than we think they do. We are aware that we are educating them when we teach them sit and down and come and when we carefully introduce them to leashes and collars and harnesses. But we don’t really think about the education that they are also receiving about not helping themselves to food off the counter, about not walking exactly in front of humans, that the sofa is best approached from the front (not over the back), that the TV is not a threat (no matter how loud it is or what scary sounds come from it), that one should not jump into humans’ faces when they are petting you (or when they are just bending over to put their shoes on), and a million other things. My foster puppies get adopted knowing all those things without my actively teaching them any of it.

In contrast, though, when a puppy gets raised in the shelter, and lingers in the kennel wards well into adolescence—like far too many dogs in crowded shelters today—their incorporation into a human home (if they are lucky enough, lacking manners, to appeal to an adopter) rarely goes smoothly. They are larger, stronger, and more independent than tiny puppies, and at the developmental stage when they have interests and a will of their own. No longer are they happy to toddle along and follow their humans everywhere; adolescent dogs are quick to judge a situation as unsatisfying or boring and pursue something more to their own tastes. Sleep in the closed-off kitchen? Why, when you are strong enough to push that gate over? Settle for the food they served you hours ago? Why, when you can easily reach all the food on the counter, in the breadbox, in the garbage can, and the cat’s litter box? Speaking of cats, is there anything more fun than chasing them through the house?

As I’ve been living with this very cute, sweet, friendly 7-month-old foster dog, I find myself grumbling to myself, calling her names (in my head, not out loud). “Oh, you idiot!” I think to myself when she wraps her leash around her legs and falls to the ground in front of me as I’m carrying things to the car, or steps into the water bowl on the kitchen floor, making it flip over and flood the room, or tries to run out the front door as it’s swinging closed and gets momentarily squashed, or stretches and falls off the couch, knocking into a side table and spilling the drink that was on it, or leaping into the air barking wildly because of the song that the clothes dryer made at the end of its cycle. She’s a dope! Only, not really! It’s not her fault that she didn’t have the opportunity to learn about doors and leashes and water bowls when she was a little puppy, and the consequences were tiny inconveniences. Now she’s big and rough and when she spontaneously—playfully!—paws at you and accidentally gets you in the face, it hurts!

No wonder that so many newly adopted adolescent dogs get returned to the shelter, many within a single day! I’m a very experienced dog handler, and I love dogs, but I can’t say I love this experience—and if I find it annoying at times, I can only imagine how daunting a relatively inexperienced adopter finds it.

But she’s also smart, learning fast, cute, and funny. She loves fetch, loves to play tug, is very careful with her mouth, loves being snuggled, and has been so good at listening to my recall cues and following along with my dogs on walks in our off-leash wildlife area, that I let her off leash on the very first walk she joined us for. She’s going to be a joy—with a couple more weeks of habituating to a human home.

So, even though I’m not making it sound like much fun, I have to recommend the experience. I know that the things this dog is learning are going to make the difference between getting adopted and having a good life, or leaving the shelter, lifeless, out the back door. And having been called and asked for help, I can’t turn my back on a dog who has the potential to be a very good one.

Will you answer the call for help fostering a needy dog at your local shelter?

A trainer I admire who has a large social media presence asked her followers about how they manage their adult dogs’ vaccinations against parvovirus: Do they vaccinate once a year, once every three years, never, or titer and then decide?

I’m pretty sure she specified parvovirus to distinguish this vaccination from the only legally mandated vaccine (rabies) and because parvo is a ubiquitous and serious disease, and its vaccination is considered a “core” vaccine—recommended for all dogs, irrespective of lifestyle, unless there is a specific medical reason not to vaccinate.

I’m also sure that she specified vaccines for adult dogs because while there are a variety of puppy vaccination schedules that are more appropriate for puppies in different situations—from a breeding farm similar to a quarantine facility, to a backyard-breeder, to a shelter or rescue—there shouldn’t be any debate whatsoever about the fact that all puppies should receive their core vaccines (distemper, adenovirus, and parvovirus, and perhaps also including parainfluenza). The guidelines published by the American Animal Hospital Association (AAHA), which are followed by most veterinarians, recommends that puppies who are younger than 16 weeks old at the time of their first vaccination receive three doses of a combination shot containing the core vaccines between the ages of 6 and 16 weeks, with doses spaced two to four weeks apart. If the puppy is older than 16 weeks old at the time of his first vaccination, AAHA recommends that two combination core vaccinations, given two to four weeks apart.

AAHA recommends that adult dogs who have received those core puppy shots be revaccinated a year after the last puppy vaccinations, and every three years thereafter. This is a somewhat reduced schedule from decades ago, when most veterinarians would recommend giving all the core vaccines to every adult dog annually (and a few old-timers still do!).

Most people go along with their veterinarians’ recommendations, and most veterinarians follow the AAHA guidelines—but some owners do depart from these guidelines, which is what my trainer friend was trying to investigate.

She has not yet tabulated the results from her posts, but she invited people to comment with details about their vaccination protocols for their dogs and all I can say is, WOW! There is a ton of variation in how people deal with vaccination decisions.

Many dog owners, including myself, are concerned about the potential for adverse health effects from overvaccinating, and we seek to reduce the number of unnecessary vaccinations our dogs receive. In my view, the only responsible way to skip recommended vaccinations is to get a vaccine titer test, which can tell you if the dog has circulating antibodies for the diseases in question. If the test results indicate that the dog does possess circulating antibodies for the diseases tested for, the odds are very good that a “booster” vaccination is not needed.

When I adopted Otto in 2008, he had received 4 combination vaccinations, starting at an estimated 4 to 5 months old, and was about 7 months old. He proved to have moderate seasonal allergies, which was one of the reasons I decided to use titer tests, which I had been reading about (and writing about), to monitor his antibody levels before I made any core-vaccination decisions. (Some veterinarians speculate that dogs who have allergies are more prone to developing adverse reactions to vaccinations.)

I had parvo and distemper antibody titer tests performed for Otto in 2010, 2011, 2012, 2014, 2015, 2017, and 2019, and every time, the results showed positive antibody titers, which is indicative of protection from those diseases—which I used as a justification to decline to vaccinate him for those core diseases. (He was never vaccinated for distemper and parvo after his youth in the shelter in 2008, and lived to nearly 16 years old.) He did receive the core rabies vaccinations that are required by law until his very last years (when I declined even those).

[Editor’s note: Many people have mentioned the high cost of using titer tests. I strongly recommend the Companion Animal Vaccines and Immuno-Diagnostic Service (CAVIDS) Laboratory at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, School of Veterinary Medicine. They charge just $50 for a distemper/parvo vaccine titer test. You do have to get your veterinarian to draw a blood sample (following the instructions on the CAVIDS Lab webpage) and either ship the sample yourself or ask your vet to ship it. Some vets will draw an extra blood sample during your dog’s regular health exam for a low fee; others ask more. You can mail (via Priority) or ship the sample directly the the lab, and the results will be sent to you and your veterinarian.]

I was fortunate in not having to ever board Otto—many boarding facilities refuse service unless a dog’s vaccines are current within three years—and I didn’t compete with him in any events where vaccines would have been required. However, every time we saw a new veterinarian, I would have to have a discussion with them about why I wasn’t giving him those core vaccines, and showing them all of his titer tests (or agreeing to a new test). Although this was somewhat costly, I felt like I was doing my part to educate his veterinarians about the value of antibody titer tests and why continually revaccinating healthy adult dogs is perhaps not necessary.

I didn’t participate in my trainer friend’s poll or leave a comment, though I will be interested to see the results. I am curious, though, if WDJ’s readers will mirror her followers’ results, or if they would vary. If you’re read this far, please comment!

How often do you vaccinate your adult dog for parvovirus? (Let’s not talk about puppies, rabies, or non-core vaccines in this discussion.)