While the fluid, yet tightly wound breed has maintained an incredible popularity for years, a down side to its success story has emerged during the past decade. Emotional chaos and headstrong exuberance, for starters, has produced heartbreaking chronicles of human error and misjudgment in growing numbers. The result: This proud breed has undergone a character assassination due to mass production and overwhelmed owners who've been on a psycho-voyage for months, sometimes years, attempting to maintain an alpha position within the households.

While hundreds of dogs are saved by dedicated rescue organizations nationwide, greater numbers are surrendered to animal-welfare and animal-control shelters, tied to fire hydrants or telephone poles, and left behind in vacant apartments or houses by fleeing owners. How can owners turn their back and walk away from a dog many consider America's most versatile purebred?

IN THE TRENCHES
"I still haven't had one owner look me straight in the eyes when he or she relinquishes a dog," says Margaret La Tour, Seattle Purebred Dog Rescue president and German Shepherd breed-rescue coordinator.

La Tour's inner strength and fiber continue to be tested nonstop, after 11 years as the shepherd's best friend in the Greater Seattle area. Along the way, she's been frayed to near the breaking point more than once. From the outside, it's difficult to comprehend the emotional chaos and realism that tests the spirit of a German Shepherd rescue coordinator. Unless, you've been in the trenches day in and day out and listened to your phone ring virtually any time around the clock, you don't have a taste for what these dedicated ambassadors of their breed experience.

For La Tour, it's been a decade of heartbreak and frustration, intermixed with success. "I wish I could see some progress, but our numbers just don't seem to be dropping.

"It gets discouraging," laments La Tour, who has enjoyed only one vacation since 1992. "I went to Wisconsin for a family reunion in 1992. I was gone for a week and came back to 23 phone calls. I'd be lying if I said rescue wasn't on my mind while I was gone."

In fact, La Tour's fate had interceded even alongside a lake in the midst of her reunion. The owner of a lakeside motel where the families were staying had approached the group with a bounding, unleashed-you guessed it- German Shepherd. "Anybody know anyone who wants a German Shepherd?" she had asked. "I couldn't believe it," recalls La Tour. "1 just couldn't get from it."

In 1988, this mother of two young girls had been encouraged to assist with German Shepherd rescue and told it would probably take only three hours a week. Thousands of hours and a decade later, she's the linchpin of Seattle Purebred Dog Rescue, the nation's premier all-breed rescue organization. LaTour seldom loses her focus on shepherds. "They're never off my mind," she explains.

Asked if she's thought about quitting, La Tour replies, "Oh, yes, for a few seconds. But I keep thinking of all those dogs that need my help. And who else would do it?" Even her closest friends wonder why she hasn't yet succumbed to burnout, which is the No. I cause of volunteer loss. "She lives and dies for that breed," says Lyn Bingham, former SPDR president. "I don't know anyone who has given so much to a breed. Shepherd leaders owe her big time."

Bear was fostered and adopted by Lisa Antonucci, Framingham, Massachusetts, foster care coordinator for German Shepherd Rescue of New England.

Like the state patrolman who has heard almost every excuse imaginable from speeding drivers, La Tour has listened to them all, too:

"Too big."
"Don't have the time."
"Wrong color for our remodeling."
"Sheds too much."
"Too expensive to feed."

While no one maintains national statistics, the shepherd has been either No. I or 2 on Seattle Purebred Dog Rescue's most-unwanted list over the past decade. It lost its grip on the top spot to the Rottweiler in 1995 and '96.

The numbers and excuses can be overwhelming. "No matter how much you do, it's never enough," says the exasperated La Tour.

A couple of years ago she remembers checking out a 3-month-old shepherd that had been surrendered at a major Seattle area shelter. "How much of a chance did that poor dog have? La Tour asks.

"What's worse are those who get rid of a family pet of six or eight years, simply because they are moving. Are you telling me they can't find a place that will take them and their dog. If they loved that animal, they could. When you see those poor, bewildered dogs in a shelter, they must be wondering what they did wrong. In most cases, it's nothing."

La Tour's devotion-some might call it marriage-to rescue is viewed as paranoia by some. "It's gotten to a point where my only friends are dog people?' says La Tour, who finds herself nursing frustrations and fantasies nonstop. "They're the only ones who understand why I've acquired emotional scars from all of this. And even some of them don't."

THE BREEDER CONNECTION
While a large percentage of the dogs La Tour sees are from rapid-fire litters of backyard breeders, the number crunch can also be attributed to mainstream "respectable-breeder" kennels.

Until recently, German Shepherd clubs in the Seattle area hardly acknowledged La Tour. "I know which kennels most of the dogs I see in animal shelters come from. For a long time, these people didn't want to face me. They felt they weren't part of the problem."

That chasm has been narrowed somewhat during the past two years. In fact, La Tour even addressed one of the local clubs recently, citing the magnitude of the German Shepherd discard problem and what responsible breeders can do to help. "The only way we can reduce the soaring numbers of German Shepherds being euthanized is for everyone to cooperate and maintain an open line of communication.

"Breeders need to do my job for a week or two. It would be a philosophical wakeup call for them. They need to see what's ending up in local shelters and find out why. Statistics are just numbers on paper and aren't enough to convince them of the enormity of the problem. You have to deal with the heartbreak, phone calls and listen firsthand to why owners no longer want that once-cute puppy. Potentially, they can become your best friend, protector and playmate," she adds. "Whether it's herding, agility or simply going for a walk, owning a shepherd is fulfilling and therapeutic. They're very smart dogs. In fact, sometimes they're a step ahead of the owners."

What she's seeing-a steady change in the social underpinnings of the breed- doesn't bode well, however. More and more dogs that are relinquished in the Seattle area are of German or Eastern European stock, for which the owners have paid hundreds of dollars. "They're gorgeous, robust animals but they come from a working background," says La Tour. "That means future owners must make a commitment to get these animals involved in agility, tracking, herding or Schutzhund."

But how many Americans are willing to make time for that? Most want to come home, pet the dog a few times, maybe throw the ball for it in the backyard and call it a day. These animals need more. "If we can't match them with active owners, we run a high risk of a mismatch, and they end up right back in the shelter or with us," says La Tour.

Having seen hundreds of so-called "problem dogs," LaTour, an obedience instructor, now requires adopting parties agree to attend obedience classes with the animal immediately. "Owning a German shepherd is a full-time job," emphasizes La Tour. "It's critical the owner establish a bond at the outset. Letting a shepherd get the upper hand can be disastrous. Owners don't recognize that until it's too late. Then, the dogs end up banished to the back yard or chained constantly. In a shepherd's mind, that's akin to solitary confinement in prison."

UNITED IN DEDICATION

Pfire is Margaret La Tour's rescued German Shepherd.

Neither Mike Murray or Linda Vartanian of the Diablo Valley German Shepherd Rescue of San Ramon, California, have expended a decade in the trenches like La Tour, yet they're veteran foot soldiers, too. The intensity of their positions dictates they become focused and driven almost overnight.

For Vartanian, the first year on duty seemed like an eternity. "At times, it has consumed my life, and in the normal times-whatever that is-it's never far away. You mature pretty quickly on this job.

"There is always a dog, a case, something that's on my mind when I wake up at 6 AM. After I let my dogs out, pour myself a cup of coffee, then I head to my computer to check for e-mail and see if we have any responses to the rescue website," says Vartanian.

"I spend the next hour replying to any inquiries. Sometimes my family gets a little tired of me talking about dogs, but they also realize how important it is to me and are very supportive."

Her husband, Perry, assists on many fronts, such as designing and updating the website, driving with her to pick up and deliver dogs and donated dog food.

"Thank God, I don't have a paying job, because I'd have been fired long ago," laughs Vartanian, who spends a minimum of 20 hours weekly on shepherd rescue.

There is no end to it, she emphasizes, which can become discouraging. "But there are immediate gratifications, too," says Vartanian, "such as a dog that has been reunited with its owner, a dog adopted by a family that has fallen in love with it, a note from someone who adopted a shepherd months before, thanking you for helping him or her find this great dog."

Vartanian, a longtime volunteer on people projects-teaching English to migrant farmworkers' children in the Midwest, working in a crisis pregnancy agency and a hospitality center for the homeless-had been burned out on people. "When I began volunteering at my local animal shelter two years ago, I wasn't certain I could do it. My kids would tell you I am very emotional and cry easily. But I've had dogs all my life. I bought my first German Shepherd when I was in the eighth grade. I've almost never been without one or two since. I've raised five children, with these dogs always a key part of the family.

"Now my grandkids come over to see our two long-coated  shepherds more than to see me and my husband," says Vartanian.

The gut-wrenching emotion and realization that the Diablo Valley club cannot save every shepherd on nearby animal shelters' Death Row haunts her. "I'm getting better," says Vartanian. "Sometimes I cry when I walk through the shelter and see the longing eyes pleading for me to get them outta there."

The majority of those dogs are there because they're not wanted anymore. "It's a matter of an owner not being willing to take the time to train the animal so it can become a well-mannered member of the family," Vartanian emphasizes. "Of course, there are some legitimate reasons for letting go, such as a divorce or death in the family."

RELIEF FOR THE RESCUERS
Support from rescue volunteers' family and associates is critical, adds Murray, manager of the Diablo Valley rescue agency. "It keeps you going. Without it, most of us wouldn't last long. The key is parceling the work around. Don't let the same people continually do the bulk of the work. Or they'll be burned out soon.

"This is very emotional work, and as a result, psychological support is equally as important as physical," says Murray.

EMAIL BONDS
La Tour, Vartanian, Murray and Janice Ritter of German Shepherd Rescue of New England Inc. credit e-mail for providing much of the problem-solving and psychological boosts.

While e-mail and the Internet have opened up new avenues and venues for help, they play another critical role, too- emotional support. "These are tools we've learned to use," says Rifler. "When you're down, these are resources to contact others around the country who truly understand your plight. We network with those involved in other breed rescue, too, since we all have a common ground and issues.

"There was one night I couldn't sleep," recalls Vartanian. "I was trying to figure out what to do in a certain situation. So at 3 Mvi, I went into my office, turned on my computer and cried on Janice's shoulder via e-mail. After telling her my troubles, I was able to go to sleep.

"When I got back to the computer at 6:30 that morning, there was her answer. She shared her experiences in similar situations and offered me some excellent suggestions."

While the lows tend to outnumber the highs in this exhilarating roller-coaster ride, the peaks and the ecstasy that surrounds them give volunteers that extra adrenaline to keep going. In July, Vartanian savored one of those successes. "It was my version of sitting atop Mount Everest," she explains. A Diablo Valley German Shepherd Rescue volunteer took an older male dog from a local shelter just as its time clock was about to expire. The dog had been apprehended as a stray; he had no collar and no one had come to claim him.

He had almost been adopted once, but the family had decided he was older than what they wanted. A couple of days later, a volunteer noticed what appeared to be a tattoo in one of the dog's ears. The numbers were barely discernable, just enough for Diablo Valley rescue staffers to track down the identity.

"We found the breeder," recalls Vartanian, "and she supplied us with the name and phone number of the man she sold this puppy to nine years ago. Thank God, the phone number was still good. And we had one incredulous and delighted owner reunited with his dog after a month of searching and almost giving up hope. Talk about high!"

FOSTER PARENTS

Alexandria was adopted through the SPDR by author Ranny Green and his family, Mary and Stacy.

"The foundation of German Shepherd rescue lifelines is built around foster parents," claims Vartanian. "They are like gold."

A foster team buys animals that 24-karat commodity called time. "They give the dog a chance to live in a home, feel secure, gain confidence, bond to someone, undergo training and develop some manners. By the point some of our rescue dogs leave a foster home for a what is hopefully their permanent new residence, they've undergone a brain transplant of sorts-from a depressed shelter resident to a confident new family member." adds Vartanian.

"It's hard to grasp how rejected these dogs must feel. One day they're in a family environment, the next they're in a crowded, noisy animal shelter," says Vartanian.

According to Murray and La Tour, it's imperative a foster team receive periodic breaks. "That can be excruciatingly difficult," concedes La Tour. "There's always a need for a foster home, but you don't want to risk burning out your key people. It's a Catch 22. You might not be able to take a good adoption candidate or two out of a shelter because of a shortage of foster homes. But if you overwork a couple, you run the risk of losing many more dogs in the long run."

Murray, who has owned three shepherds in the last 26 years, joined the Diablo Valley club's rescue program in 1995. He began by transporting dogs about the area, helping man the phone line and fund raising. When the former manager quit from burnout in 1997, he assumed the position.

"It just seems that it never ends," he says. "You take three steps forward, only to fall four back the next day. Rescue is a business, however, not just a personal little project that someone does as he or she can."

To move in that direction, Murray set up a voice mailbox in lieu of phone calls to a volunteer's home. "Calls at all hours is one of the prime reasons for burnout," he emphasizes. "With voice mail, we check it several times daily.

"Secondly, I sought to enlist more people than we had. This helped ensure that less would fall on one member. Most rescue groups operate with just a handful of people who do everything."

Handling myriad chores and attempting to hold down a full-time job and have

a life, adds Murray, "is quite a balancing act. And like any successful business, the key is putting the right people in the right position."

The dynamic of a successful rescue operation like Diablo Valley is centered around teamwork, adds Murray. "You operate to people's strengths while offering them responsibility."

Making an analogy to the film, Field of Dreams, which included the line: "If you build it, they will come, "Murray says rescue work is more like, "If people feel good about what they are doing, they will stay."

The blue-collar Diablo Valley German Shepherd Rescue thrives on community orientation. It identifies veterinarians who work with rescue groups by offering deep discounts for sterilization and other services; organizes numerous fund-raisers; and maintains a well-publicized website address.

MATCHMAKING
Major rescue programs such as Seattle, Diablo Valley and New England, place a high priority on the right match. "You don't want these animals changing hands again," says Ritter. "The rejection by a previous owner, followed by psychological turmoil, leaves some dogs right on the edge." Each of these organizations conducts home inspections, as time and manpower allows, but always in questionable match-ups.

"Each adoption stands on its own merit," explains Murray. "There is no ideal for the perfect adopter."

The success of any rescue program is dependent on a solid relationship with area shelters. "Unfortunately, shelter policies vary tremendously," says Murray, "and run the gamut from very professional and caring to just dismal.

OWNER SURRENDERS
"The owner surrenders are a very mixed bag. In most cases, with the bottom line is that the owner simply wants out of the responsibility of caring for the animal."

La Tour agrees, "You get back to the disposable-society thing; Americans just toss things aside when they're done with them. Unfortunately, that goes for pets as well as material items."

Diablo Valley German Shepherd Rescue has tightened up its policies regarding owner surrenders. "We will not interview these people until they have first completed our placement profile and read our cover sheet that ask them to consider other options, like additional training and behavioral work, before letting go.

"If they still decide to surrender the animal, we ask that we place it from their home, rather than take possession and stress the dog out further," says Murray. Diablo Valley rescue charges each owner $35 to cover mailing and telephone charges associated with the placement.

"Owner surrenders are the most frustrating aspect of rescue," adds Murray. "I remember going to one of our local shelters last year to examine a 1-year-old female who had been turned in by her owners because of mange. They had not bothered to seek medical attention for her and she obviously had suffered for some time. Her entire coat was gone, she had open wounds over the majority of her body to the degree that her eyes were swollen shut. She could barely stand on her own power.

"The veterinarian who examined her suggested euthanizing her as the most humane thing we could do, as her prognosis with treatment was very poor.

"I agreed and walked out of the shelter knowing that as I did, that poor dog was being led to her death. I sat in my car in the parking lot and cried for the next half hour. These were tears of sadness certainly, but also tears of rage and anger at those who allowed this to happen," says Murray.

"At that moment, I didn't know if I wanted to ever deal with rescue again, or if I was more determined than I ever. I drove to the kennel where we keep some of our dogs and spent the next four hours walking them, playing with them and reassuring them-and myself-that I would not let the same fate fall upon them. That morning and afternoon defined my commitment to this cause."

NEW ENGLAND
Ritter's involvement with rescue began with a large New England Golden Retriever organization, simply to learn the rudiments of rescue. Next, she joined forces with a Schutzhund training friend, Pam Devlin, who also wanted to help German Shepherds. The two fine-tuned their plans for six months before founding German Shepherd Rescue of New England Inc. in May 1996.

This photo of Duke, owned by Shanon and Steve Hull, was sent to Margaret La Tour with a personal note: "Hi Margaret, I'm Duke. Thanks for my new home. I'm very happy here but I owe it all to you for being the great German Shepherd rep. See you next year at the SPRD picnic!           Your Friend --Duke."

Their odyssey began with a 6-month-old German Shepherd that had been found on the streets of Boston as a stray and was facing euthanasia soon because it has been in a nearby shelter for 10 days. "We haven't stopped for a breather since," says Ritter.

Like La Tour, Vartanian and Murray, Ritter says the psychological turmoil is the toughest. All find themselves hip deep in cynicism too easily. "I cannot tell you how deep the anguish can be when you try to help as many nice dogs as you can, but know that you cannot handle half the volume needing help."

Apathy is literally a killer, Ritter emphasizes. Not finding enough parties willing to sit at a fund-raiser table for four hours or open up their house as foster home is "difficult to understand."

"There are few things worse than knowing a great German Shepherd was euthanized for nothing, only because the people responsible for its life abandoned him or turned their back on it and that dog's last-chance safety net couldn't help either because there were too many dogs needing help before it that day."

"For the most part, I find that German Shepherd rescue groups are solitary people doing what they can, feeling very alone and burned out. When I speak with people thinking of starting a rescue program, I urge them to first work with others and share their experiences, especially those with high-volume breeds such as German Shepherds, Rottweilers, Labrador Retrievers, etc."

Like the Seattle and San Ramon-based rescue services, Ritter's New England group screens both dogs and potential adopters. The shepherds must pass a temperament evaluation before being accepted and then spend a month in foster care for additional temperament tests and exposure to various stimuli.

Adopters, too, are thoroughly screened. "We need to be certain they realize that inside the regal, handsome looks of a German Shepherd is the heart of a creature bred to work," says Ritter. In addition, the New England doesn't place dogs in households with youngsters under 7.

"If someone loves the look of a German Shepherd but is a quiet, somewhat submissive person who just wants a dog that will sit next to him or her all day day and night and not want to do much, then I'll steer him or her away from this breed," says Ritter.

The Seattle, California and New England groups place senior shepherds as well as puppies. "I cannot emphasize enough that these seniors are often the best to adopt," says Ritter. "They've been around the block and usually have nicer house manners than the youngsters. Plus, they relish being with people."

Ritter, La Tour, Murray and Vartanian have found themselves involved in both dramatic and routine rescues in this business where lethal disdain is situated alongside enduring love. High-volume German Shepherd rescue is ripe for frustration and fragmentation. Yet La Tour continually reminds herself to refrain from lobbing verbal grenades. "It's just a means of venting," she smiles, "but doesn't do the breed any good. The welfare of the German shepherd is the reason we're all in it."

In the introduction of The Good Shepherd, by Mordecai Siegal and Matthew Margolis (Little Brown and Co., 1996), the authors characterize the breed, "The German Shepherd is more like a person than a dog, but more like a person we always hoped to be. He is smart, hardworking and completely loyal.

"German Shepherds are like no other dogs, because of their distinctive personalities and many outstanding qualities. Their presence in any family is dynamic and stirs the deepest emotions. The German Shepherd experience is the dog event of a lifetime."

But the proud breed's embattled spirit, coupled with the heartbreaking chronicle of human error and misjudgment rescuers face daily, leaves you wondering if these dedicated people will ever work themselves out of a job. Most are hoping so, but they're not holding their collective breath.

(Ranny Green is an award-winning writer for the Seattle Times and a columnist who writes primarily about animals. He owns a rescued GSD.)