I adopted a Romanian dog - here's what you need to know

The Herald Scotland

4 days ago

DJ is a Romanian rescue dog. He has my back - and I have his. But it hasn't always been easy. There are times when my partner and I have regretted opening our home to a strange four-legged creature from Eastern Europe.
Frequently we miss out on big birthdays, weddings and parties - although we did take him to a funeral recently and he behaved impeccably.
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Holidays to far-flung places like New York and Marrakesh are a distant memory. But staycations and dog-friendly hotels are fine as DJ loves to run on the beach in the horizonal rain.
It's difficult to take proper care of him. For a start he would bite any groomers arm off to the point we've now become experts on the best dog clippers and cutting techniques.
When it's time for yearly jabs he's put to sleep with very strong anaesthetic normally given to horses. We're told he's handled like a wild animal.
Walking wise he wears a yellow warning ribbon. But people still come too close. We're always on high alert to avoid other dogs, humans and bikes.
The fact is - our giant Terrier - who we've been told is a very rare Irish Glen of Imaal – has put his trust in only two people.
Romanian rescue dogs are not normal dogs. Most had a bad start in life not helped by the 32-hour journey to the UK on the so-called 'happy vans'.
Their trauma is mostly down to irresponsible ownership – the product of poor education and lack of neutering programmes. Urbanisation has also led to the widespread abandonment of pets as people move into apartments.
When we decided we wanted a rescue dog, I approached all the leading UK charities but was told it was impossible due to having no garden.
DJ in Romanian kennel reception (Image: Unknown)
But in 2019, we found out we could adopt from abroad. After picking DJ out from a long list of potential fluff balls, we were swiftly treated to a home visit by a volunteer charity worker.
No garden – no problem. There was no discussion about potential behavioural problems or the strange little quirks we could look forward to. It was easy. Pay the two hundred and fifty pounds and the dog was ours.
When he arrived in Scotland, the first few months were a real struggle. He'd bitten a few times. I was scared.
Slowly, we built up trust and he began to come out from behind the sofa. Then when the pandemic struck, we hung out all day, every day. He was my best work buddy.
Still dealing with his reactivity and out of desperation we booked a dog behaviourist. They couldn't tame his wild ways. But he's now an expert in giving paws for treats.
I began to wonder what had really happened back in Romania. We'd originally been told he was a typical street dog found 'on the side of the road'.
But something didn't feel right - I needed to investigate further.
It took months, but through translation I managed to track down the vet in Romania who'd dealt with his pet passport, who then sign-posted me to kennels in a city called Lasi.
Rescue workers there told me DJ had been kept on a chain, tied to a tree, for the first three years of his life.
He'd been beaten and abused by his owners and their children. He'd arrived at the shelter with severe cigarette burns. The family surrendered him because they didn't want him anymore.
It made sense now. This poor animal had such a traumatic early life - make no wonder he had deep rooted anxiety issues.
Romanian rescue dogs have become a popular choice for young professionals as they're easier to come by. During Covid many took these dogs on, only to discover they couldn't cope.
In 2022, Defra suspended the commercial import of dogs from Belarus, Poland, Romania and Ukraine due to concerns about rabies and other diseases coming into the UK. But the ban was lifted later that year.
DJ (Image: Unknown)
Brexit hasn't stopped the import of these rescues either. But I would argue that there needs to be much stronger regulation of the charities involved.
Greater scrutiny is needed of who owns these organisations, how they're run and their aims because from my experience, some of these dogs should've never been put up for adoption in the first place.
Charities also need to be more honest about the dog's history and more support and adequate follow ups should be offered.
Walking around Leith Links in Edinburgh, I can spot a Romanian rescue a mile away. A quick chat with the owner usually confirms we're in the same boat.
Given my experience, I always advise people against adopting a dog from abroad. Our vet would also strongly agree.
He told us that despite vaccinations, these dogs may carry diseases not commonly found in the UK – leading to health risks for both the imported dog and resident animal population.
Taking on a nervous animal requires bags of patience, understanding and dedication. It's a commitment which will affect your everyday life.
The answer to the big question I'm always asked, is that I would never take on a rescue dog again. But I could never give DJ up.
Beneath the reactivity he is a caring soul with bags of character. Shelter staff told us that with his good looks he'd managed to work his way up from kennels to joining staff on reception. Regularly he'd lie on their desks listening to the radio – hence his namesake.
I will never tire of him following me around everywhere with his wagging tail, watching me cook or keeping me company at work. When he smiles, he really does smile to the delight of his many fans on his own Instagram page.
Dogs really are your best friend. He's taught me a lot about resilience through life's challenges. Every day is a blessing with DJ - I'd be lost without him now.
Laura Varney is a writer and senior public relations professional