When we met Vichy (the rescue organisation gave her that name temporarily), she was the most terrified, anxious, doe-eyed little bundle that I could have pictured. We met at SFO International on January 11, 2013, and the volunteer told us that she was the only dog in a group of about 15 who didn't go to the bathroom in her crate. To me I interpreted that not was an achievement, but an indication of her sheer terror.
After hearing that she hadn't gone to the bathroom in a million hours, we sprinted through the airport together in search of a door.