tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80719125014745831832024-02-06T22:29:56.713-06:00Shelter DiariesCome and meet some of the animals at the Irving, TX Animal Shelter, and share their stories.Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-38624796062439665412012-01-20T21:54:00.002-06:002012-03-12T19:52:03.019-05:00Little Vlad This is probably the worst time in the world to dredge up old memories. Our dog Amelia (formerly Becky) is at the vet, in the middle of an emergency surgery that will either save her life or end it. The odds are pretty heavily in favor of the latter. I can't stop thinking about it, though.<br />
Many, many years ago - when I was still in college - I found a tiny red bat. He'd flown into one of those electric bug-zappers, probably chasing after some bugs. He was scared, hurting, and his wing was a charred, mangled mess, but I just couldn't leave him there. I raced back to my art studio, grabbed a pair of leather gauntlets and a box, and took him home.<br />
The next day, I called everywhere I could to find someone who knew about bats. I finally reached a bat rehabilitator. Unfortunately, she lived about eight hours' drive from me. She did, however, give me advice in dealing with the little guy.<br />
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"Don't expect him to get better," she cautioned, "Don't even expect him to eat or drink. Red bats are kind of like 'nature's popcorn'... They are so small, even a minor injury makes them give up and just wait to die." She also taught me how to keep him comfortable in the meantime - most significantly, always make sure that he had something to hang from. I never knew that "standing upright" was actually uncomfortable or painful for them, but apparently it is.</div>
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So I worked with him. For three days my friends and I would keep an eye on him, carefully clean his mangled wing, and offer him food and water. The second day, he started drinking. The third, he even ate a few mealworms.</div>
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When I went to check on him the next morning, I found him in the bottom of his non-aviary, cold and lifeless. Apparently he had felt spry enough in the night to move around and stretch, which re-opened the wounds on his wing. There just wasn't enough blood left in his tiny body to keep him going at that point.</div>
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I was sad. I was excruciatingly sad. But there was an undercurrent of happiness, as well. Even when it was hopeless, we kept trying; we kept fighting. And even though we lost in the end, that little bat gave it everything he had.</div>
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And as I write this, the vet just called; Amelia is out of surgery. Things still look dire, and at this point there's nothing left that anyone can do. On one level, however, that's OK. She's a tough girl (is <i>that</i> ever an understatement), and none of us ever gave up. We all fought the difficult fight, and didn't take the easy way out. Little Vlad would approve.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">UPDATE: </span></b><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="color: black;">It's about a month on, and Amelia is watching the cats and squirrels taunt her through our back door. She wound up losing about half of her intestine (and is still too thin), but our scrappy tank of a dog somehow managed to pull through. I tell myself that - despite the abysmal odds - she wound up with a perfect storm of skilled hands, caring hearts and never-give-up-the-fight attitudes all around. Some days, it really does work.</span></span></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-70214927620001562172011-12-06T04:11:00.001-06:002011-12-06T05:32:51.011-06:00NylaThere's a dog that we've never talked about in <i>Shelter Diaries</i> before; I don't have any photos of her, and she was only in my life for a total of two days. I really think that her story needs to be told, however.<br />
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Nyla was picked up as a stray, and brought to the shelter. Everyone knew that no owner would come to claim her. No rescue would take her, and she couldn't be adopted. She was a lost soul by the time I met her, but it really didn't matter to me.<br />
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I had seen some pretty badly mangled Pit Bulls before. <a href="http://shelterdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/06/sam.html">Sam</a>, for instance. But Nyla was something different altogether. She was absolutely beautiful - velveteen, snow-white fur with a ticking of black freckles across her nose and shoulders, bright, alert eyes, and a graceful and powerful body. And on this elegant canvas had been wrought a cacophony of hate and brutal injustice. Her tail was missing completely, her graceful legs and shoulders and her beautiful face were crisscrossed with scars and fresh wounds. Worst of all were her ears; severed entirely, flush with her battered skull. I'd seen some pretty horrific injuries: the effects of severe neglect, mange, malnutrition and even cancer before. But this was different. This was done by a human: deliberately, purposefully, and malevolently.<br />
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And that's why no owner would ever reclaim her. Nyla was a fighting dog.<br />
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She was understandably skittish, and slow to trust. Toys meant nothing to her, but food and treats were more than welcome. Since she couldn't be taken out of her kennel, I worked with her inside. <i>Sit</i>. <i>Lie down</i>. <i>Good girl</i>. <i>High-five</i>. We were making progress. We were finding that small ember of happiness, that real dog down inside her. She was relaxing, and oh so beautiful.<br />
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And then it happened.<br />
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Another volunteer passed by with a dog, on their way out to the play yard. Nyla sprang up, snarled, and threw herself - just once - against the door of her kennel with a fury that had been beaten into her for so long, it was reflex. Then she froze. And then she turned and looked at me.<br />
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I've only met one other dog with eyes that soft. There was no aggression on her face; no tension in those powerful, scarred shoulders of hers. She took a couple of steps toward me, then collapsed in my lap, rag-doll limp and shaking like a sobbing child, her head buried in my chest. We sat like that until closing time.<br />
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Due to overcrowding and her dog-aggression issues, Nyla was euthanized. I wish I had been able to get some photos of her, but I don't need them. Her face is burned in my memory as deeply as <a href="http://shelterdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/07/smitty-aka-buster.html">Buster</a>'s. And if I don't react well to people pontificating about how it's the breed of the dog, and Pit Bulls are "born killers" and "genetically aggressive," I hope people will understand. There are killers and monsters and savages out there aplenty, but most of them walk on two legs instead of four.<br />
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<br />Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-40423925522030230112010-08-10T22:23:00.006-05:002010-08-11T20:26:30.804-05:00Paige<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images19.fotki.com/v678/fileRm1T/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige01_CloseUp.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 261px;" src="http://images19.fotki.com/v678/fileRm1T/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige01_CloseUp.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Paige came into the shelter as a stray, and it's bewildering that her previous owner never came looking for her. She's only about two years old, so she's hitting that golden time when a dog still has a puppy's playfulness and energy, but a bit of the wisdom and restraint that carries into their adult years. Although she is a little bit overenthusiastic in wanting to give hugs sometimes, Paige is well-behaved and personable. On top of all that, she plays fetch, too!<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fHf_VNUV1Rw&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fHf_VNUV1Rw&hl=en_US&fs=1?color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><div style="text-align: left;"><br />When we went outside today, Sophie and I took turns brushing the unshot winter-coat she was still carrying around (in the 103-degree Texas summertime). As is often the case, getting anything but a close-up was tricky, since she always seemed to want to be wherever the person with the camera was. Paige really seems to be everything you could want in a friendly, knocking-about-with kind of dog.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images33.fotki.com/v1070/fileK5Ca/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige02_CloseUp.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://images33.fotki.com/v1070/fileK5Ca/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige02_CloseUp.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images54.fotki.com/v543/filecAsx/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige04_Brushing.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 113px; height: 150px;" src="http://images54.fotki.com/v543/filecAsx/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige04_Brushing.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br />"And if you adopt one Paige today, we'll even throw in a second set of back dewclaws FREE as an added bonus!"<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images112.fotki.com/v599/fileSdOz/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige03_PawsClaws.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="http://images112.fotki.com/v599/fileSdOz/b4cd9/0/1520390/8968695/Paige03_PawsClaws.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">UPDATE 7/11:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> Took Paige outside again today, and she was really happy to get a chance to stretch her legs. </span></span>We also found out that she's much more of a people-dog than a dog's dog: she grumbled at a couple of other female dogs that walked by her kennel, and (although there was no snapping or lunging) an overenthusiastic young puppy wound up getting literally punched in the face. Not sure if it's because she isn't spayed or if her "only dog" instincts extend to the menfolk, but Paige could use a little extra socialization and supervision when it comes to strange dogs.<br /></div></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-60733106514519006812010-06-26T03:21:00.007-05:002010-07-01T01:08:34.085-05:00ShoeShine!<div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="http://images116.fotki.com/v1595/file9Uq8/79f82/0/1520390/8835195/ShoeShine02_Sit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images116.fotki.com/v1595/file9Uq8/79f82/0/1520390/8835195/ShoeShine02_Sit.jpg"><br /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Although ShoeShine was dumped at the shelter by his owner about a month ago, I only had the opportunity to meet him this past weekend. At first, I didn't think he liked me at all - he would dart to the front of his kennel, bark repeatedly, then dash off... only to repeat this ritual again and again. It was only after I got home and was getting ready to walk our dog Rufus that it hit me: Rufus usually uses the same bark when he's playing or when he wants something. And that got me thinking even more.<br /><br />The next day, I managed to get up to the shelter again. When I got to his kennel, I called out, "Hey, ShoeShine! Wanna' go ouside?" and he cocked his head at me; not a confused expression at all, but a cheerful gesture that I recognized well. It's the same bright little "Heck yeah!" nod that Rufus gives me when asked if he wants to do something fun. So outside we went.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images114.fotki.com/v1605/fileGuEx/2fac9/0/1520390/8835195/ShoeShine03_Closeup.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 148px;" src="http://images114.fotki.com/v1605/fileGuEx/2fac9/0/1520390/8835195/ShoeShine03_Closeup.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images12.fotki.com/v531/fileiaFT/2fac9/0/1520390/8835195/ShoeShine01_Resting.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 147px;" src="http://images12.fotki.com/v531/fileiaFT/2fac9/0/1520390/8835195/ShoeShine01_Resting.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />ShoeShine is brimming over with energy and enthusiasm. He's a smart dog, and a complex one as well. One moment, he can be mischievous and swaggering; the next moment, he'll be sweet, vulnerable, and eager to please. He's a combination of German Shepherd and Golden Retriever, and seems to have gotten some of the best of both breeds in him.<br /><br />Beautiful, energetic, and amazingly friendly, ShoeShine is a real find - and sadly, one that may be gone forever in just a few short days. Since the opening of the new shelter, adoptions have been painfully few; rescue groups are over-full and desperately trying to make just a tiny bit more space to save more lives. Times are tough all around, but it's literally a life-and-death struggle for the shelter, its staff, and the animals. ShoeShine has been there a month - long enough to grow from a puppy to an adolescent, long enough to watch a number of other animals come and go. In the past two days, at least eighteen new dogs have come in, and there is nowhere to put them.<br /><br />Tuesday may well be his last day. If it is, and he has to be put to sleep to make room for new dogs, it will be heartbreaking. And for me... well, he's so much like Rufus in so many ways, I think my heart will break a little bit every time I look at my own lovable rascal and see what ShoeShine could have been, too.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">UPDATE 6/30:</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">ShoeShine was one of ELEVEN dogs pulled yesterday by rescue groups at the last minute. Thanks to their hard work, there's a little bit of breathing room at the shelter - at least for a few days. ShoeShine headed to Shreveport, LA along with a Chihuahua named Josh, where they will be fostered - and hopefully adopted out - by Animal Welfare, Inc., a Shreveport-based rescue group.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">,</span><br /></span></span></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-40060461091416186142010-03-18T12:53:00.002-05:002010-03-18T13:41:37.641-05:00A Request<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images46.fotki.com/v1516/file3zrY/5e046/0/1520390/7600803/LeafyRufus.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 250px;" src="http://images46.fotki.com/v1516/file3zrY/5e046/0/1520390/7600803/LeafyRufus.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Looking back at all of the dogs we've met over the past year - and looking forward to the opening of Irving's new "Animal Care Campus" to replace the 36-year-old shelter building - has made me a bit nostalgic. I've been wanting to do another slideshow of the animals we've featured, but this time I'll need some assistance to make it work.<br /><br />If you have (or know someone who has) an animal that was adopted from the Irving Animal Shelter - especially one featured here on <span style="font-style: italic;">Shelter Diaries</span> - I'd like to get photos to show the animals "then and now" when possible. People should get to see that for a lot of these dogs and cats, leaving the shelter is not just a "happily ever after," but a "to be continued" as well.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images18.fotki.com/v457/fileWLnX/5e046/0/1520390/7600803/WaterDog_3_4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 224px;" src="http://images18.fotki.com/v457/fileWLnX/5e046/0/1520390/7600803/WaterDog_3_4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div>If you do have photos you'd like to contribute, please e-mail them to us at onimusic@verizon.net. Thanks!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-34928695850842693782010-03-07T17:42:00.003-06:002010-03-09T23:02:09.242-06:00Sandy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images9.fotki.com/v449/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyPortrait-vi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="http://images9.fotki.com/v449/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyPortrait-vi.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sandy is, to put it plainly, the ugliest dog at the shelter. Her eyes are red and baggy half-covered by the membranes surrounding them, her tongue protrudes from her mouth constantly, her teats are like wads of chewed bubblegum hanging from her underside and she has a permanantly protruding vulva from her years as a puppy-mill bitch. She was smeared with feces and her legs calloused and scabrous. <b>And I absolutely love every inch of her!</b> One might think that a dog so used and mistreated would want nothing to do with people, but Sandy is so full of affection and trust, she has surprised everyone at the shelter with her good nature and manners. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://images41.fotki.com/v305/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyFullbody-vi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 250px; height: 185px;" src="http://images41.fotki.com/v305/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyFullbody-vi.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tim and I took her outside for a much-needed bath, and she was so good on the leash and really enjoyed stretching her legs and soaking up some sunshine. She didn't like the cold water but she was really brave as we scrubbed away the dried poop from her shoulders, legs and backside.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images18.fotki.com/v458/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyTub-vi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 250px; height: 186px;" src="http://images18.fotki.com/v458/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyTub-vi.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> I let her stay outside in the sun for almost an hour while she dried. She liked the grass but was quite happy when I laid out one of the towels for her to sunbathe on. If I walked away, though, she was right there following me. She is not stingy with the kisses either and her tongue is surprisingly long! She doesn't know what to do with a ball but she does enjoy just hanging out and watching the world go by.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images54.fotki.com/v1593/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyClean-vi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 175px; height: 130px;" src="http://images54.fotki.com/v1593/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandyClean-vi.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://images41.fotki.com/v305/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandySunbathing-vi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 175px; height: 131px;" src="http://images41.fotki.com/v305/photos/0/1520390/8527354/SandySunbathing-vi.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Like I said, Sandy is not going to win any beauty pagents, and is going to have to get by on her personality alone, but given a chance to love somebody, there is no one who shines brighter.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE 3/09: </span> Sandy met two outgoing female dogs in the lobby of the shelter and did NOT like either one. I would suggest she not be homed with other females, and possibly not any other dogs at all. We'll see how she is around males and try again with calmer, older females.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-85716384393820566432010-02-19T12:06:00.000-06:002010-02-24T18:23:44.994-06:00HarleyWe haven't been able to take Harley outside his kennel yet, but check out these photos. He is too cute!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZ3eqURBfeiJz3KOnnuxBkLUD1L_lFmWoYtDG3JLKb3API-FPXvSh9K8gdtD6TOZCBg9MUkvDGMS_OJMa8r__rQhvBhjw1w_MMGHLOZx-owR2dTMF7lnoREQTatiXc1icjAiSnkZC5pZx/s1600-h/HarleyKennel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZ3eqURBfeiJz3KOnnuxBkLUD1L_lFmWoYtDG3JLKb3API-FPXvSh9K8gdtD6TOZCBg9MUkvDGMS_OJMa8r__rQhvBhjw1w_MMGHLOZx-owR2dTMF7lnoREQTatiXc1icjAiSnkZC5pZx/s200/HarleyKennel.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzNAPWJeweGGRjl9QL9PjUAlmR6xpDPR4OALT74Na98WvGJb30_vdPTKfuJm3GfbT9vj5GHiwiA-zBn3zdddTtz6xxoyu_PSQFGzsh8d30duBt4J4c6vulPC93opqQDjLb1J129eGK8cK/s1600-h/HarleyShy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzNAPWJeweGGRjl9QL9PjUAlmR6xpDPR4OALT74Na98WvGJb30_vdPTKfuJm3GfbT9vj5GHiwiA-zBn3zdddTtz6xxoyu_PSQFGzsh8d30duBt4J4c6vulPC93opqQDjLb1J129eGK8cK/s200/HarleyShy.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbI7wQfm-YzIbQ0kvruTHBi0l6dlo9dd2d25QZbXteuuBr34COTItq_4tzAvyZmxjj4_re9X_h5xhzna7_sgQs-pCPinsS2p0umyTvHjTnInQH8_PO6GIamg2PJV-MOk4Q1i9pNyHWsKmG/s1600-h/HarleyHoping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbI7wQfm-YzIbQ0kvruTHBi0l6dlo9dd2d25QZbXteuuBr34COTItq_4tzAvyZmxjj4_re9X_h5xhzna7_sgQs-pCPinsS2p0umyTvHjTnInQH8_PO6GIamg2PJV-MOk4Q1i9pNyHWsKmG/s200/HarleyHoping.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
We'll do a proper write-up when we have more to tell you. He really does seem terribly sweet, though.<br />
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<b style="color: #990000;">(UPDATE 2/24):</b> Never got around to doing a proper update, but it doesn't matter now. Harley was euthanized today, due to acute illness. I'm sorry we didn't get to spend more time with you, Harley Dog.Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-65016125897777255662010-02-19T12:02:00.000-06:002010-02-22T23:09:36.976-06:00Sadie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJAduUsvZ8hgPKlQ1v2TsKhtQG_9b_1oIah-mTtMX7ZTZSuz8aCugmRiV74VXp5wSeaM1Fk76Ch71VzjC9t9ErEFNVDJf53DF8IEIGgD4oMHTi5BmWkS5q29rpUvYJtkPdFtTM8cCyzU8/s1600-h/SadieSitting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJAduUsvZ8hgPKlQ1v2TsKhtQG_9b_1oIah-mTtMX7ZTZSuz8aCugmRiV74VXp5wSeaM1Fk76Ch71VzjC9t9ErEFNVDJf53DF8IEIGgD4oMHTi5BmWkS5q29rpUvYJtkPdFtTM8cCyzU8/s320/SadieSitting.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I have only met Sadie briefly, so I will let Tim do the write up. But I wanted to at least introduce her to you and show you her pretty pictures. Sadie was dumped at the shelter by an owner who actually said "We're selling her pups but we just want to get rid of her." Her teats are still swollen and lactating, so we're not sure just how long ago she gave birth. Our own foster dog, <a href="http://http/;//furryfosterfiles.blogspot.com">Mia</a>, was dumped with two of her puppies. A new mother should have peace, quiet and security and her babies need to learn those things from her. These horrible owners who treat dogs like puppy dispensers should be forced to work the "back room" of a shelter when these unwanted dogs are put to sleep. Just let them see the final result of their thoughtless, careless actions (or inactions in the case of unspayed females.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcrqSpi9jqwyP5ZHPD2FrhHJje-YZRUeV83_jQmJGL_hrJe04RC-oSy9O33W8TlAdelRo4vaFkQwSaRbS03kFhPF1JsGc-5TLVFD54tsxDddi2BwvLXGlxkqUy6PRYDBZ2HRdfiFUUoZRB/s1600-h/SadieMomma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcrqSpi9jqwyP5ZHPD2FrhHJje-YZRUeV83_jQmJGL_hrJe04RC-oSy9O33W8TlAdelRo4vaFkQwSaRbS03kFhPF1JsGc-5TLVFD54tsxDddi2BwvLXGlxkqUy6PRYDBZ2HRdfiFUUoZRB/s200/SadieMomma.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrVBcd0zkT1C45AtCV0_RPlSaMOvvTsVrm5gWpLEDtDUrJBvjWcre0thR7coiVsjOabBkTCbDJhHVPmsw01j2KlZNNhudDz7Ei0TFRORtElPwSqMjC4om8nmNSXI1nrZUJIawBhAHJ44e/s1600-h/SadieFace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrVBcd0zkT1C45AtCV0_RPlSaMOvvTsVrm5gWpLEDtDUrJBvjWcre0thR7coiVsjOabBkTCbDJhHVPmsw01j2KlZNNhudDz7Ei0TFRORtElPwSqMjC4om8nmNSXI1nrZUJIawBhAHJ44e/s200/SadieFace.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZthmNAdB9ZV2UPhK0gLnHozWj1yJVn1zRls-OeGtwPk8bxptUfqnQ-StVNx9WR80PkjZ8-LYocC0RFZy4zcqgCOF8ZxgRZCvMfGwknzehUJQPKwBD9YCYJ82CQvLGprOt_76o3TNIoPVZ/s1600-h/SadieWalking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZthmNAdB9ZV2UPhK0gLnHozWj1yJVn1zRls-OeGtwPk8bxptUfqnQ-StVNx9WR80PkjZ8-LYocC0RFZy4zcqgCOF8ZxgRZCvMfGwknzehUJQPKwBD9YCYJ82CQvLGprOt_76o3TNIoPVZ/s200/SadieWalking.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She is so scared and so timid. No one is going to give her a second look. She doesn't look like a cute little puppy or a heroic guard dog or a fancy lap ornament. She looks small and dark and so very intimidated, but she's brave enough to trust you if you give her a chance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFnUkjMh_89xVPvQLq357uQf-al7Uj7Iq0kZLONv-gTYvCQzRmV4AVLroPt4_mxHT0Sf42ozKOgj0NDOI6Wl7H1syplA5j_MEa7cmyEIQu8zvzIRkQmLM4q8jsVDtkCpp3SsFRqSh2jRU/s1600-h/SadieHopeful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFnUkjMh_89xVPvQLq357uQf-al7Uj7Iq0kZLONv-gTYvCQzRmV4AVLroPt4_mxHT0Sf42ozKOgj0NDOI6Wl7H1syplA5j_MEa7cmyEIQu8zvzIRkQmLM4q8jsVDtkCpp3SsFRqSh2jRU/s320/SadieHopeful.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Honestly, she probably won't make it out alive. No one seems to really notice her. But we just want those folks who will probably answer the "Puppies for Sale" ad or sign to know that the story doesn't end with the purchase of a puppy. A lot of stories end on the cold steel table in the back of a shelter.<br />
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<b style="color: #cc0000;">UPDATE (2/22)</b>: Sadie never got her happy ending. I sat with her and walked with her and played with her, but trust moves slowly. And the current of human thoughtlessness moves swift and strong. She was put to sleep today, to make room for incoming animals - most of them brought in by their owners.<br />
<div style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #fff2cc;">.</div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-72768435734536327702010-02-11T00:27:00.000-06:002010-02-23T19:22:54.827-06:00Jasper, the One-Eared Dog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images54.fotki.com/v553/fileTX42/5c485/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_Boooop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://images54.fotki.com/v553/fileTX42/5c485/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_Boooop.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When Jasper first arrived at the shelter, we really didn't know what to make of him. He huddled in the back of his kennel, pretty much sitting and glowering. He wouldn't come forward to take a treat from me - even when I tossed it halfway across the kennel floor. But he didn't growl, or give any signs of aggression, and the poor guy needed some water. So in I ducked to get to know him better.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At first, he looked shy and confused: one ear flat and laid back, the other standing semi-erect and forward. Once inside his kennel, I could understand why a lot better:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images41.fotki.com/v209/file9Bno/5c485/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_MangledEar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://images41.fotki.com/v209/file9Bno/5c485/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_MangledEar.jpg" width="175" /></a><a href="http://images53.fotki.com/v432/file9Bno/5c485/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_MangledEar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v432/file9Bno/5c485/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_MangledEar.jpg" width="175" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My initial thought was that a previous owner tried to "ghetto-bob" his ears, and gave up after the first wouldn't stay erect. After discussing it with some of the other folks at the shelter, though, it seems much more likely that something - something very large - had gotten ahold of him at some point. Jasper isn't a small fry by anyone's estimation, but whatever happened to him was very big and very scary, and it's left some pretty deep scars. Not all of those are flesh wounds, either.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He's extremely frightened - almost never standing fully upright when he walks, ducking and shaking uncontrollably when he's touched too quickly or startled. Yesterday, we had to cut short our walk because he was terrified of even the pigeons and grackles in the parking lot. A little later, we ventured back out with Laney, a happy-go-lucky young boxer/chow/shepherd fellow, and Jasper found a bit more pluck and courage.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images51.fotki.com/v1549/fileSlTE/0187d/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_Investigating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://images51.fotki.com/v1549/fileSlTE/0187d/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_Investigating.jpg" width="175" /></a><a href="http://images53.fotki.com/v432/fileG1ol/0187d/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_WhoMe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v432/fileG1ol/0187d/0/1520390/8424786/Jasper_WhoMe.jpg" width="175" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> I only had a chance to stop by for a few minutes this evening, but made sure to stop and say hello to Jasper. He was a lot more relaxed, and nuzzled up under my arm contentedly. I have yet to see him smile outright, but I have a feeling that he's not too far from it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="color: #38761d;">NOTE</b>: Time and weather allowing, we'll try to introduce him to our dog <a href="http://images41.fotki.com/v1243/filePUM9/0187d/0/1520390/7600803/Amelia_Dragonslayer01.jpg">Amelia</a> tomorrow - she's no stranger to working with frightened dogs herself, and maybe she'll help Jasper locate his misplaced confidence.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="color: #38761d;">UPDATE (2/11)</b>: It snowed like crazy today. Undaunted, Jasper and I went outside to hang out with Frosty, another dog on the "urgent list." Someone was interested in both of them, so I figured it would be a good thing to see if they could stand each other first. How did it go? You be the judge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object height="265" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UKC1yCzoiVI&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UKC1yCzoiVI&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And, at long last - Jasper smiled today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="color: lime;"><span style="color: #38761d;">UPDATE (2/13)</span></b>: Jasper finally got to meet Amelia today - along with Rufus and Mia, when he came to stay with us for the next week! Minnesota Animal Rescue pulled him (along with Frosty, and three other dogs) today, and he'll be heading north next weekend, health permitting. So it looks like Frosty and Jasper could get used to this "snow" thing after all...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="color: #990000;"><span style="color: #38761d;">UPDATE (2/19)</span>:</b> Tomorrow is the day Jasper is supposed to go to a new foster in Minnesota. We will let you know how that goes. He's been a wonderful guest and I will miss his sweet little face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1-LPVTqrCD5g1Kt7VRhgGSPkNRRUKy1lVe8pTUd2yKQBq7ZMKRHP3MiwJRGTC8bzr0tZq4I7h6dijTEFTSPUh1crLKgUH2ooG8ZaUC_NMi1C7yv_B6_aSvSQrXov3K8SabvoLFw45Wap/s1600-h/SweetJasperFeb2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1-LPVTqrCD5g1Kt7VRhgGSPkNRRUKy1lVe8pTUd2yKQBq7ZMKRHP3MiwJRGTC8bzr0tZq4I7h6dijTEFTSPUh1crLKgUH2ooG8ZaUC_NMi1C7yv_B6_aSvSQrXov3K8SabvoLFw45Wap/s200/SweetJasperFeb2010.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #fff2cc;">.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #fff2cc;"><span style="color: black;"><b><span style="color: #990000;">UPDATE (2/20)</span></b>: Jasper's prospective foster did not reply to Tim's email, so Jasper is still here. Our house is a bit too small and crowded now and so we are looking for another temporary foster for him until things are set for him in Minnesota. He's super sweet and snuggly, and although he is being treated for URI, he's happy and energetic. He does like to chase the cats </span></span><span style="color: #fff2cc;"><span style="color: black;">and has a strong prey drive and should not be in a household with cats or other small animals unless supervised.</span></span><span style="color: #fff2cc;"><span style="color: black;"> He does not like strangers coming up to "his" house or gate and will let you know if someone's approaching. Other than that, he's very observant of both his human and canine packmates and is eager to be a good boy, whatever that entails. If you are interested in fostering or adopting Jasper, we can certainly arrange a home visit with your family/pack. Email to <a href="mailto:onimusic@verizon.net">onimusic@verizon.net</a>.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #fff2cc; text-align: left;">- </div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-81647273408489588592010-02-03T23:11:00.000-06:002010-02-03T23:38:03.575-06:00Help Needed<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3T0qR9QPz87QjrQ1My9oj83d5Kz_sefJrFxoJA0poGy4TnV3OgX7TV6-oKSH29TryJiduSjEzo_mQhBqyTugzA4JeCtEdkbRAk84_eOLX9lQcTc4RBEYIv9XzZ7GmKnmEBbm-JBjIa9Yv/s1600-h/Rexa_Rescued.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3T0qR9QPz87QjrQ1My9oj83d5Kz_sefJrFxoJA0poGy4TnV3OgX7TV6-oKSH29TryJiduSjEzo_mQhBqyTugzA4JeCtEdkbRAk84_eOLX9lQcTc4RBEYIv9XzZ7GmKnmEBbm-JBjIa9Yv/s320/Rexa_Rescued.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434255368321942514" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRkynsH11Ud0Mx2za8vPtE2LFNpEa8SA83imOm4Hi0oKs00dFqNi2gKp9Is5UJZ_J_bHSV2-09E1KcaY_Ja85sbt9V1zIQjvGDa6AWRraufR-LkV_l7qDQk3i0lUcx-i8b5GgPh-VcBmv/s1600-h/Layla_Rescued.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRkynsH11Ud0Mx2za8vPtE2LFNpEa8SA83imOm4Hi0oKs00dFqNi2gKp9Is5UJZ_J_bHSV2-09E1KcaY_Ja85sbt9V1zIQjvGDa6AWRraufR-LkV_l7qDQk3i0lUcx-i8b5GgPh-VcBmv/s320/Layla_Rescued.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434255378347520178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKtiRa2aOIIh-AQWAJTaxrpasAgapAyQTYdbd_q_9Q2hyusYdgExpdePZw-UrWp0GdjFqBov-9-IGxwnEAHweB6gDmN3SB-iADsNgAhWl5quAxuKDy6JDVFBsdU_Q-6mTrypO9Itagd28/s1600-h/Gilda_Rescued.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKtiRa2aOIIh-AQWAJTaxrpasAgapAyQTYdbd_q_9Q2hyusYdgExpdePZw-UrWp0GdjFqBov-9-IGxwnEAHweB6gDmN3SB-iADsNgAhWl5quAxuKDy6JDVFBsdU_Q-6mTrypO9Itagd28/s320/Gilda_Rescued.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434255380194587250" border="0" /></a></div><br />Three lovely young dogs - <a href="http://shelterdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/01/rexa.html">Rexa</a>, Layla, and Gilda were rescued from the shelter last week, which provided safety for them as well as direly-needed space for other dogs. Unfortunately, the rescue they were slated to go to has suddenly found all of their foster homes flooded with litters of "holiday puppies."<br /><br />That leaves our girls in a bit of a bind until space at the foster homes can be made once again.<br /><br />All three are currently in the care of our good friend Christy Wilson, who herself has a full house. She's valiantly taken it upon herself to see that they are boarded, vetted, and spayed - at a tremendous cost to herself.<br /><br />If you would be interested in fostering (or adopting, once they are spayed) one of these sweethearts, please let us know and we'll try to put you in contact with Christy. If you'd like to help, but don't have room at home (something we can very much relate to), there is a "<a href="http://savinglivestogether.chipin.com/rexa-gilda-and-layla">chip-in</a>" page to help offset the cost of boarding and vetting them. Please donate if you can - no matter how small, every bit will help.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHU9Z7Vn_Z59FON1PyY_xYTRn83mqVwnEzfCw_3ptKw3wYZjwobjsARIcRcGCgGfTn8rQZlRxKEMgycbklupKTP-Tt6kIcqv2HElwihsv_H3UjUtsZEw4CXecnkaS5KnItF1UEcmg5h4Ie/s1600-h/Gilda_Zzzzz.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHU9Z7Vn_Z59FON1PyY_xYTRn83mqVwnEzfCw_3ptKw3wYZjwobjsARIcRcGCgGfTn8rQZlRxKEMgycbklupKTP-Tt6kIcqv2HElwihsv_H3UjUtsZEw4CXecnkaS5KnItF1UEcmg5h4Ie/s400/Gilda_Zzzzz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434257813439801522" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">All three of these girls are outstanding ambassadors for their breeds, and we think they deserve the best future they can get.<br /></div></div><a href="http://savinglivestogether.chipin.com/rexa-gilda-and-layla"><br /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://savinglivestogether.chipin.com/rexa-gilda-and-layla">http://savinglivestogether.chipin.com/rexa-gilda-and-layla</a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-16264974021924064372010-02-03T22:25:00.002-06:002011-08-17T03:11:28.175-05:00Remo (the Second)<div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/fileWUeQ/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_Playtime.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/fileWUeQ/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_Playtime.jpg">
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<br />February has been shaping up to be a busy month. Not only are our "day jobs" and fostering young Mia keeping us busier than usual, the shelter staff are preparing to move to a new facility (a lot bigger, and about 35 years newer). It seems like there's never any time where we, the dogs, and the sun can all be in the same place at the same time.
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<br />It's a real shame, too. There is a legion of wonderful animals stuck here, and far too many will never be seen in time. Remo is one of the ones I worry most about, because he's (like Rexa before him) just too quiet and polite in his kennel to catch people's attention.
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<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="285" width="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EWQo2W2NU0A&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EWQo2W2NU0A&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="285" width="340"></embed></object>
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<br /><div style="text-align: left;">At first, he looks all stoic and grown-up. And big. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he had a little bit of American Mastiff in him, especially considering the loose skin on his face... not to mention his warm and affectionate personality. Apparently his previous owner wanted to give this impression, since he had Remo's tail docked. That, of course, means you have to look a little more closely to see his tiny nub of a tail wagging a mile a minute.
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<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/fileaT8T/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_MastifFace.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 195px; height: 146px;" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/fileaT8T/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_MastifFace.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images41.fotki.com/v209/fileKMDw/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_Hayroll.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 195px; height: 146px;" src="http://images41.fotki.com/v209/fileKMDw/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_Hayroll.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br />Remo is pretty reserved in his kennel. Going out the front door, he slinks along the ground like a soldier under fire. Keep on going though, and keep on encouraging him, and once you get him out in the sun, he absolutely shines. And wallows. And occasionally fetches. And rolls in the grass again. There's just something ineffable about his personality, though: a joyful warmth that's really hard not to fall in love with.
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<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v439/filesF8v/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_Sepia01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 224px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v439/filesF8v/d01a4/0/1520390/8424786/Remo_Sepia01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">UPDATE:</span> While writing this, I learned from Russell Posch (the awesome resident Shelter Walker) that Remo has been moved - along with several other outstanding dogs - to the "urgent list". That means that if the shelter fills up again, he might have to be euthanized to make room for new, incoming animals.
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE (2/6):</span> ADOPTED!</span> After an amazing outpouring of support and offers to help young Remo out, he was pulled today... And the people who picked him up are thinking he's not going to be needing to find another home. I couldn't be happier - and that's not literary license; I really mean it.
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<br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-44852086516483785202010-01-21T23:28:00.000-06:002010-01-22T18:27:36.387-06:00Doak<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v444/filevnKk/73856/0/1520390/8325480/Doak_02.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v444/filevnKk/73856/0/1520390/8325480/Doak_02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">When little Doak arrived at the shelter, I honestly didn't give him much thought. I figured, <span style="font-style: italic;">He's young, friendly, smart, extremely cute... He'll be adopted right away</span>.<br /><br />That was about a week ago, and I can't understand why he's still here. Maybe he comes across as too stand-offish; perhaps it's because his multi-colored eyes give him an unusual gaze. Or maybe his intense culinary fascination with all things green and grassy seems a little obsessive-compulsive in a puppy so young.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images20.fotki.com/v527/file4g9G/73856/0/1520390/8325480/Doak_03_clover.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 187px;" src="http://images20.fotki.com/v527/file4g9G/73856/0/1520390/8325480/Doak_03_clover.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Doak knows a good vintage clover when he sees one...</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />I get the impression that Doak isn't unaffectionate or aloof; he's just a bit bored. For a four or five month-old puppy, he's got a lot of cleverness in that cute, fluffy head of his. Even if he'd received all of the social interaction that a growing pup needs, the odds are good that "fetch" or "chew on the squeaky toy" won't hold his attention forever. Although I might be wrong, Doak certainly gives the impression that his "working dog" bloodlines run deep and strong, and he'd be happiest with some invigorating challenges to keep his mind and body sharp.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images21.fotki.com/v194/fileOqSh/73856/0/1520390/8325480/Doak_01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 262px;" src="http://images21.fotki.com/v194/fileOqSh/73856/0/1520390/8325480/Doak_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div>That said, little Doak has plenty of aptitude in the fine arts of snuggles and affection as well.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE 1/22</span>: Doak was rescued! We're so glad he's safe and on the way to being a great pet.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-71368648929228048812010-01-17T10:51:00.001-06:002010-01-28T20:03:15.951-06:00Rexa<div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images54.fotki.com/v202/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_01-vi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://images54.fotki.com/v202/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_01-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br />Right next door to <a href="http://shelterdiaries.blogspot.com/2010/01/winston.html">Winston</a> is Rexa. She's quiet and gentle but very, very happy to meet anyone who cares to come visit her. She's not much for jumping up on you either, unless you let her know it's okay. Even then she's not too rough or rowdy. But she is a pit bull and far too many people who come into the shelter look past her on that point alone. She appears to know what "sit" means and also jumped up on the doghouse when I indicated for her to do so. She doesn't know how to fetch a ball, but she does love to play chase.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images41.fotki.com/v9/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_02-vi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="http://images41.fotki.com/v9/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_02-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Rexa aims to please</span></span><br /><br /></div>Rexa is a stray that was picked up, but she does seem to have been taught good manners. I enjoyed walking with her because for once I had a dog that didn't try to drag me along behind. (Rufus, I'm talking to <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span>...) and even though she didn't know me a single sniff, she had no problem with me entering her kennel, taking over her "bed" and glomping all over her our first meeting. She is an enthusiastic snuggler and the only danger you'll be in is that she just may steal your heart. She'll give it her best try, anyway.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images18.fotki.com/v438/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_Singing-vi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="http://images18.fotki.com/v438/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_Singing-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images41.fotki.com/v9/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_02-vi.jpg"> </a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images18.fotki.com/v438/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Rexa_Singing-vi.jpg"> </a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >She's not actually barking here, she's just making a funny face<br />after some goofing around with me in the yard.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">UPDATE (1/21):</span> Sophie and I decided that it was a shame for such a lovely dog as Rexa to be as dirty as she was - so we took advantage of the unseasonably warm day today, and gave her a bath. Although not too keen on hopping up onto the rickety bathtub, she didn't complain when we hoisted her up and strapped her in. She did complain once, very quietly, about the cold water; but so did we, so that's pretty fair. Like a trooper, Rexa let us suds her up, hose her off, ruffle her with some fresh-from-the-dryer towels, and walk around until the bright winter sun warmed her up and dried her out.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I will try to get some better pictures of her tomorrow if I can. It's difficult to see in our hurried, overcast-day snapshots, but Rexa is really quite beautiful: her "mask" and dark spots aren't black, but a warm, dark brindle. And although perhaps not as visually striking as Gilda, a sweet blue American Pit Bull gal at the shelter, Rexa has a classic charm to her that is hard to put into words and still pictures. Perhaps most endearing to me is what she often does when confronted by something odd, loud, or unexpected. Instead of breaking into gales of barking, she turns, looks me in the eye, and cocks her head to one side in an expression of "Well now, <span style="font-style: italic;">that's</span> a curious thing."<br /><br />I can't help thinking that Rexa's an extraordinary dog; one that deserves an extraordinary owner, and an extraordinarily happy life.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/I0hBMOkNnik&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/I0hBMOkNnik&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">UPDATE 1/22</span>:</span> Rexa is still at the shelter and on the "blue" list. She's still just the best dog in the world and hasn't let the situation get her down. Today she lavished kisses and cuddles on a pair of little girls. She's fantastic with kids, shows no fear or aggression even toward barky dogs, yet no one seems willing to see past her breed. Rexa is too good a dog to let go. She would be the perfect family dog or a companion for a childless person or couple. She loves and trusts everyone. I can't stand to see such a wonderful dog languish unrecognized. If you know of someone who could use a calm, affectionate, considerate dog and who isn't prejudiced against pit bulls, please tell them about Rexa. She'll be the best friend you ever had.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE 1/28:</span> Rexa has been pulled for rescue by<a href="http://www.adoptapet.com/adoption_rescue/77849.html"> K.A.R.E.</a> (Kathy's Animal Rescue Express) from Minnesota. Our dear and tireless friend Christy has coordinated not only Rexa's rescue, but five other dogs (including Corina!) with K.A.R.E. and all boarding/vet fees are being paid by K.A.R.E. and Christy. If you can donate anything at all to this rescue mission, <a href="http://savinglivestogether.chipin.com/kare-rescue-transport-and-vetting-corina-pudge-and-lazer">please click here.</a> <br /><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">.</span><br /></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-19664896548511319602010-01-17T02:28:00.000-06:002010-02-06T18:45:13.945-06:00Winston<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images17.fotki.com/v522/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Winston_01-vi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v522/photos/0/1520390/8325480/Winston_01-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br />I (Sophie) was told by another volunteer that there was a new dog that needed to be worked with. This unnamed little boxer/ridgeback mix was snapping at anyone trying to touch him. He was small, thin and looked more mournful than menacing. I figured I would just take it slow and easy, so I got in the kennel with him and knelt down. He backed up a few steps and I reached over and took his food bowl. He didn't seem to mind. I put a few kibbles in my hand and held it out to him. He sniffed it, then sort of half-heartedly mouthed the kibble, not really eating but at least touching his face to my hand. I didn't watch him or stare at him, just acted disinterested and kept offering kibble in my outstretched hand. Before long, I was briefly stroking his face and head while he investigated my hand. He got closer and seemed to be pressing against my hand a little more like a dog that wanted to be petted. Within a few minutes, he was on my lap, getting petted from nose to tail. Terri, (the volunteer coordinator and someone we both admire immensely) had previously been able to pet him as well, which made us wonder if he wasn't just afraid of men. So naturally I went to Tim to test that theory.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images20.fotki.com/v533/photos/0/1520390/8325480/SophieWinston_01-vi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 151px;" src="http://images20.fotki.com/v533/photos/0/1520390/8325480/SophieWinston_01-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Check out that cute ridge down his neck</span><br /></div><br />With me in the kennel, sitting against the far wall, Tim came in and sat down by the door. Winston--as Terri and I had named him moments prior--kept close to me but didn't seem aggressive toward Tim, just wary. Gently and reassuringly, Tim offered Winston small bits of dog biscuit from his hand. And just as with me, Winston learned to trust him to the point that I left them for a bit and came back to find Winston curled up and sleeping on Tim's lap, content as you please. But he still growled at one of the Animal Shelter staff members just a little while later, even while Tim was holding him. Without knowing Winston's story, we can't know just what has caused his fear of certain people, only that he isn't a hopeless case and that he does, very much, want to be loved and comforted.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images20.fotki.com/v527/photos/0/1520390/8325480/TimWinston_01-vi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 268px;" src="http://images20.fotki.com/v527/photos/0/1520390/8325480/TimWinston_01-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images54.fotki.com/v554/photos/0/1520390/8325480/TimWinston_02-vi.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 265px;" src="http://images54.fotki.com/v554/photos/0/1520390/8325480/TimWinston_02-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Winston learning that he's got friends.</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">UPDATE (1/21):</span> Winston has been quickly getting his confidence back, to the point where he'll even occasionally strut around outside, his head and tail held high and proud. It's really encouraging to see. Most of the time, though, he's just thrilled to have some attention, and is quickly turning into a very affectionate young dog. And as he gets less emaciated (though he's still pretty wasp-waisted), Winston is actually shaping up to be a pretty handsome guy.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE (2/6):</span> We stopped by the local Petsmart (where <a href="http://members.petfinder.org/%7ETX671/index.html">Lost Paws Rescue of Texas</a> holds adoption events every weekend) to see young Winston, and he was as happy to see us as we were to see him. He was charming people right and left, and seems to have finally met a good play partner who moves at his speed, along with the rest of his new family! We all met back at the shelter to fill out the adoption paperwork, and had a great last get-together with Russell Posch and Terri Walker, the shelter's volunteer coordinator (and Winston's foster mom for the past two weeks). It was a fabulous way for Winston to start his new life.<br /></div></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);">.</span>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-3841532559420405362010-01-14T00:31:00.001-06:002010-01-15T22:12:36.734-06:00Pookey<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images18.fotki.com/v437/file9BLy/43a25/0/1520390/8325480/Pookie_11310_02s.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://images18.fotki.com/v437/file9BLy/43a25/0/1520390/8325480/Pookie_11310_02s.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Pookey is a dog that I wanted to feature a week ago. He's likely a mix of German Shepherd and Australian Shepherd, although he might have some Kelpie in him as well. Regardless of his bloodline, Pookey is bright, friendly, confident and just an all-around fun dog to be with.<br /><br />The reason for his being at the shelter is the reason I didn't post him earlier. Apparently, he was used as leverage in a "domestic dispute." His previous owner dumped him at the shelter to "teach a lesson" to a family member they were fighting with.<br /><br />I'm no guidance counselor, but I'm pretty sure it's a stupid idea to try and extort loyalty by getting rid of the only thing someone "truly loves" - doubly so when that happens to be a living being. Triply so when that living being is a dog that still loves you, no matter how callously you treat him. And if there's anything that young Pookey has learned flawlessly, it's how to love.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v443/fileXITb/43a25/0/1520390/8325480/Pookie_01s.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 150px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v443/fileXITb/43a25/0/1520390/8325480/Pookie_01s.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v444/filemWaB/43a25/0/1520390/8325480/Pookie_02_s.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v444/filemWaB/43a25/0/1520390/8325480/Pookie_02_s.jpg" alt="" border="0" /> </a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Of course, he's pretty good at fetch, too. And keep-away. Often at the same time. He's got confidence, intelligence, a sense of humor and energy to spare. Working with him, I get the impression that he is truly a "gifted" dog, and would probably love learning new things and facing new challenges. In fact, the one thing Pookey doesn't have going for him is time: I waited far too long to give his previous owners time to work things out, and now the shelter is full.<br /><br />It isn't fair that he's stuck in this jam. It isn't fair that he was betrayed by a pack mate for the sake of pride. But it is what it is, and all that's left to do is go from this point into wherever tomorrow takes him. That's one major difference between dogs, and most people.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyDzA2bID8fhNRRAMYvKLw92Bj2CRwETPsImd93rJ54TGaAEhvtUXKzcp7gfbTya-S_10j2mlfJlttifcAgog' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE (1/15)</span>: </span>Well, Pookey's former family never worked out their differences, it seems. After waiting and waiting in the shelter (with very few people even considering such an energetic and eclectic-looking fellow), he was pulled by a rescue group today. He'll be heading to a foster home quite a distance from here, and hopefully will be finding a permanent - and more stable - pack to live out his whirlwind-happy days with.<br /><br />Incidentally, had he not been pulled today (with several other dogs), it's likely he would have been euthanized for space at the end of the day.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div><br /></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-21652430330488874922010-01-11T16:00:00.000-06:002010-01-11T16:06:08.360-06:00Shelter Diaries Special: Mia<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v444/photos/0/1520390/7600803/Mia_Sad-vi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v444/photos/0/1520390/7600803/Mia_Sad-vi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div>Rather than repost the blog in it's entirety, here's a link to Mia's page. She was a shelter dog, now she's being fostered by us. I know the best way to help find her a forever home is to start spreading the word now.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://furryfosterfiles.blogspot.com"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mia's page</span></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);">.</span><br /></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-21951024293494773772010-01-07T23:27:00.000-06:002010-02-15T23:08:01.041-06:00Opinion Time - All About the Fight<span style="color: #ffffcc;">.</span><br />
When people learn that Sophie and I volunteer at a "Kill Shelter," we get a variety of responses. One of the most frequent seems to be a variation on, "Oh, I don't know how you can do that - I couldn't handle knowing that the animals might get put to sleep."<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images44.fotki.com/v1469/file5nQ1/e8d0c/0/1520390/7600610/Maggie01_BW.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://images44.fotki.com/v1469/file5nQ1/e8d0c/0/1520390/7600610/Maggie01_BW.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 224px; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
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</div>I'll be perfectly honest: it isn't easy. Personally, I'm usually drawn to the animals who have the most difficult time getting adopted or rescued, as I (somewhat abashedly) suspect a quick look back through many of <span style="font-style: italic;">Shelter Diaries</span>' posts would indicate. Given that part of working with a shy, frightened, or headstrong animal is getting to know how it thinks... well, it seems like I wind up making a lot of friends I know I'll lose in one way or another. It's inevitable. The only way to avoid the painful part is not to do it at all. A lot of people take that route, and I can't fault them for it.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images51.fotki.com/v1544/file3kqC/e8d0c/0/1520390/7707039/Chester02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"> </a><a href="http://images49.fotki.com/v1503/filewCLM/e8d0c/0/1520390/7600610/Bernie02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://images49.fotki.com/v1503/filewCLM/e8d0c/0/1520390/7600610/Bernie02.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 134px; width: 180px;" /></a><a href="http://images51.fotki.com/v1544/file3kqC/e8d0c/0/1520390/7707039/Chester02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"> <img alt="" border="0" src="http://images51.fotki.com/v1544/file3kqC/e8d0c/0/1520390/7707039/Chester02.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 135px; width: 180px;" /></a><br />
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</div>I often compare the animal shelter to a field hospital in a hostile land. Of the countless numbers that come in through the front door, many will never leave. You will lose many lives, no matter what you do, and that's just the way of things. But if everyone were too timid to make the effort, you would lose all of them. I don't view that as a palatable option.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images52.fotki.com/v1563/fileSnrg/e8d0c/0/1520390/7916136/Bradley_Profile.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://images52.fotki.com/v1563/fileSnrg/e8d0c/0/1520390/7916136/Bradley_Profile.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 94px; width: 125px;" /></a><a href="http://images51.fotki.com/v424/filePOAI/e8d0c/0/1520390/7916136/Royce_Trotting.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"> <img alt="" border="0" src="http://images51.fotki.com/v424/filePOAI/e8d0c/0/1520390/7916136/Royce_Trotting.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 94px; width: 125px;" /></a><a href="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/filehTvk/e8d0c/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"> <img alt="" border="0" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/filehTvk/e8d0c/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_03.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 94px; width: 125px;" /></a></div><br />
It's impossible to "make yourself" stop caring. Empathy has no on/off switch. So you mourn each one that doesn't make it. As Sophie pointed out to me when Buster died, though: "The heart is one of the largest, strongest muscles in your body. Like other muscles, it hurts when you overwork it. And like other muscles, the pain only means it will be stronger the next time you have to use it." Every animal I've worked with has left me a stronger person, including and especially those I've cared about enough to leave me gutted when they die. That strength is something I can bring to the next dog who needs a hand, who I may or may not see leave the shelter.<br />
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In the end, you can't focus on the big picture; it'll crush you and drive you out of your head. Each day, each animal, each moment... that's where you have to work. It isn't about winning the war. It's about giving the fight everything you've got. That's what matters.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images52.fotki.com/v1554/filePZXC/e8d0c/0/1520390/7600803/Buster_Convalescing_S.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://images52.fotki.com/v1554/filePZXC/e8d0c/0/1520390/7600803/Buster_Convalescing_S.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 300px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><span style="color: #ffffcc;">.</span>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-88153049165719289392010-01-07T22:43:00.001-06:002010-01-21T22:28:14.065-06:00Corina<div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 466px;" src="http://images46.fotki.com/v1442/fileeCuW/a0d87/0/1520390/8254096/Corina_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a style="" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images46.fotki.com/v1442/fileeCuW/a0d87/0/1520390/8254096/Corina_01.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Corina is a very energetic girl - much like A. A. Milne's Tigger, her top's made of rubber and her bottom's made of springs. And she's so happy when she sees a friendly face, she's likely to bounce all over her kennel and mug for all she's worth.<br /><br />At the same time, there's a bit of a sad awkwardness to young Corina. It's nothing new to see adolescent dogs come into the shelter that haven't spent enough time around other people and animals - honestly, even our dog Rufus is feeling the growing pains of too little socialization in his first few months. But Corina looks to be nearly a year and a half old; that's a lot of catch-up learning to do, no matter how enthusiastic the student is. It's quite daunting, and Corina doesn't really hide the fact.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images45.fotki.com/v1200/fileh5l0/e8d0c/0/1520390/8254096/Corina_02.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 134px;" src="http://images45.fotki.com/v1200/fileh5l0/e8d0c/0/1520390/8254096/Corina_02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images51.fotki.com/v423/file7tYx/e8d0c/0/1520390/8254096/Corina_03.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 135px;" src="http://images51.fotki.com/v423/file7tYx/e8d0c/0/1520390/8254096/Corina_03.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br />Inside her kennel, Corina is a handful. Her eyes and body language vacillate between shyness and a near-overwhelming hunger for affection. She's likely to go from bouncing off the walls to meekly offering her belly for scratching, and just as quickly back to ricocheting around. Outside, she'll amble along obliviously as if she'd never seen a human before, then dart over to your side to lavish snuggles or try and instigate a game.<br /><br />It's as if she's teetering on the fence between being a loner or a social butterfly, and waiting impatiently to see which way fate nudges her.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">UPDATE (1/15)</span>: </span> Corina is still at the shelter, although she might have a possible adoptor coming to look at her. That in no way makes her situation "safe," however. We learned a new game yesterday - she'd leap into the air, and I'd say "Hop!" and catch her. She wasn't sure if she thought it was fun or just a bit weird, but it gave her some exercise anyway.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">UPDATE (1/21):</span> Our good friend (and great friend of dogs everywhere) Christy Wilson pulled Corina today, along with two other dogs - Laser and Pudge - who will be headed up to a rescue group in Minnesota. Here's hoping that the three of them make it there safely, and find what it takes to flourish in their new homes!<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-56695900048258238512010-01-06T13:40:00.000-06:002010-01-06T13:45:55.991-06:00Merlin and Corina: VideoA short video of Merlin and Corina - another happy-go-lucky gal who I will feature later today.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="364" width="445"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tZnPLQtIrmE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tZnPLQtIrmE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="364" width="445"></embed></object><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-83954154785726896362010-01-06T13:11:00.000-06:002010-01-07T19:36:47.489-06:00Merlin<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images17.fotki.com/v374/filerqOm/7e2e9/0/1520390/8254096/Merlin_01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 466px;" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v374/filerqOm/7e2e9/0/1520390/8254096/Merlin_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Despite some inclement weather and people's tight end-of-year budgets, the winter holidays went fairly well at the shelter. We have, however, seen more than our usual share of dogs with mange and other ailments over the past week or so - along with more dogs than usual winding up with "unadoptable" ID cards, whether it be for behavioral or medical reasons.<br /><br />Merlin started out on such a card, due to a lot of skittishness and a somewhat painful-looking collar burn. Understandably, he wasn't too keen on being handled around the face and neck. On our first encounter (while cleaning his kennel for him), Merlin and I had the opportunity to meet on his terms and at his speed, however, and he seemed respectful and gentle, if a bit nervous. Over the next couple of days, he relaxed a lot - and let me pet him gently on his nose, chin and neck; I was, however, mindful not to roughhouse where his collar had bit into him. In return, I got a plethora of tail-wags, some rather awkward licks on the cheek, and a grin that could melt granite.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v426/fileSCql/7e2e9/0/1520390/8254096/Merlin_02.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v426/fileSCql/7e2e9/0/1520390/8254096/Merlin_02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br />When I went by the shelter on Monday, I made sure to swing by his kennel. Merlin was a bit taciturn at first, although his tail was going a mile a minute. "Hey, Merlin," I queried, "Who's the best dog in the shelter? Huh?" At that, he broke into an ear-to-ear grin, glomping me affectionately when I stepped into his kennel to refill his water. He does jump up a bit, although he's astonishingly gentle for such a large dog. And before I left, he laid his head on my chest, smiled, and let out a contented sigh.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/filegft3/88d39/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_03.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 134px;" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/filegft3/88d39/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_03.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images52.fotki.com/v8/fileK1fD/88d39/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_01.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 134px;" src="http://images52.fotki.com/v8/fileK1fD/88d39/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br />I haven't checked today, but I'm pretty sure young Mr. Merlin has earned his green "adoptable" card once and for all. He's a bit rough and puppy-like still with his affection, but he certainly seems eager to please and unabashed with his admiration.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE (1/7)</span>: Well, Merlin earned his green card - along with the admiration of pretty much everyone who met him yesterday. Unfortunately, he was put to sleep today; I don't know the reason yet, but I suspect that the winter weather got the better of him and he fell ill last night.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/filetOYz/88d39/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_02.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 262px;" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v521/filetOYz/88d39/0/1520390/8325480/Merlin_Jan6_02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />You were well named, Merlin. And I'm going to miss you so very much.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-71584299951933647102010-01-04T13:15:00.000-06:002010-01-04T13:17:43.127-06:00Follow us on FacebookWe'll still update here, but if you've got a facebook account, join the group: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=228557865799">Shelter Diaries</a>.Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-6118311975125542452009-12-20T23:43:00.000-06:002012-01-20T21:11:38.581-06:00GriefA woman came into the shelter this weekend to have her dog euthanized.<br />
<br />
She spoke quickly and deliberately, and explained that the dog was ill, she had taken it to five different vets, they had each told her something different and nothing had helped, now he was starting to cough up blood and the latest vet said there was something wrong with all the dog's organs and he'd have to do x-rays but she'd spent all her money at the other vets already and... She needed to have him put to sleep, because there was nothing else she could do, and she didn't want him to keep suffering.<br />
<br />
She signed the release just as quickly, almost dismissively. The shelter technician and I both looked at the dog and his shaking owner, then at each other, and I'm sure we both had the same expression - if not the same thought. <span style="font-style: italic;"></span> He gently lifted the dog and carried him away. Since it was a busy day in the rest of the shelter, I was left alone with the woman.<br />
<br />
She just stood there at the counter for about half a minute. Without looking at me, she asked, "I'm not going to see him again?" I told her no.<br />
<br />
"It won't hurt, will it? What'll happen when they do it?"<br />
<br />
I explained how the euthanasia injection worked - the dog would be given an anesthetic, just like if it were going into surgery. He'd fall asleep, and just not wake up again. And he wouldn't be hurting.<br />
<br />
She nodded, then started crying. "It's all my fault. I should have done something else. I should have done more..."<br />
<br />
Those words were very familiar. They were pretty much what I'd told myself, over and over again, when <a href="http://wooferdog.blogspot.com/2009/08/farewell-buster.html">Buster</a> died. But I knew how untrue those words were. She'd fought tooth and nail for her dog, and literally given that fight everything she had. In the shelter, she'd given him comfort and courage - and believe me, I know how hard it is to stay calm when your heart's breaking. She'd been brave enough to take on the pain of grief so her dog's pain would abate.<br />
<br />
What more would her dog have asked of her?<br />
<br />
I wish I could have put it more eloquently and completely, as the behavioral psychologist Patricia McConnell did on her blog, <a href="http://www.theotherendoftheleash.com/love-guilt-putting-dogs-down/">here</a>. Sophie recently pointed this article out to me (under the heading of, "you really, <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> need to read this"). If you've ever lost a pet, and especially if you've ever had to have one euthanized, I highly reccommend it.<br />
<br />
Just before she left, I told her the one thing she could have done - the one thing she <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> could do, in spite of everything: "Just try to always be the person your dog thinks you are."<br />
<br />
I really hope she realizes how much she did for her dog. In time, when the sting of grief isn't as sharp, I hope she'll come to the shelter and adopt another companion. Because that will be one well-loved dog.<br />
<span style="color: #ffffcc;">.</span>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-11441563903494629282009-12-17T22:54:00.000-06:002009-12-28T22:49:18.774-06:00Homer<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images26.fotki.com/v890/fileMw9p/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Homer_Winnah.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://images26.fotki.com/v890/fileMw9p/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Homer_Winnah.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">If you pick up a book about raising American Pit Bull Terriers, you'll probably run across the phrase, "Ambassador Dogs." It's sort of an ideal to shoot for: the best example of what a breed has to offer, and what they're supposed to be when brought up right.<br /><br />When I first met Homer, that seemed a bit far from the reality of his situation. He was surly, mopey, easily startled, and didn't want to be touched. He even went so far as to shove my hand away when I went to pet him. Then he'd turn around and curl up in my lap. I wanted so much to connect with him, but he just seemed so out-of-kilter.<br /><br />He seemed pretty affable toward the other dogs, though, and I thought he might be the one dog in the shelter who could keep up with Joker, a rowdy, fun-loving, athletic, and very <span style="font-style: italic;">bored</span> dog who many of the volunteers are quite fond of. At first, it was a little tense... and then ensued a twenty-minute wrestling match of epic proportions which left both Joker and Homer panting, content, and grinning like idiots the whole way back to the kennels. It was the difference between "doggie jail" and "home."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images40.fotki.com/v1336/filedF2g/c9ba1/0/1520390/8254096/HomerSophie_02.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 95px;" src="http://images40.fotki.com/v1336/filedF2g/c9ba1/0/1520390/8254096/HomerSophie_02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images51.fotki.com/v423/filelDpp/c9ba1/0/1520390/8254096/Homer_Vertical.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 63px; height: 95px;" src="http://images51.fotki.com/v423/filelDpp/c9ba1/0/1520390/8254096/Homer_Vertical.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images17.fotki.com/v374/fileCPTn/c9ba1/0/1520390/8254096/HomerSophie.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 95px;" src="http://images17.fotki.com/v374/fileCPTn/c9ba1/0/1520390/8254096/HomerSophie.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A kennel isn't Homer's happy place, but it seems everywhere else is. He's vivacious, energetic, cuddly, attentive and gentle - and honestly, none of that is gilding the lily. Watching him roll around on the ground for tummy rubs, bound back-and-forth between Sophie and I because he couldn't decide which of us was more fun at the moment... I found myself thinking, <span style="font-style: italic;">This. This is exactly what a Pit Bull is supposed to be</span>.<br /><br />Between his sparkling personality and his velvety brindle coat, I kept thinking of Tige, the famous Pit Bull sidekick of Buster Brown. Honestly, if we had the resources and room, Homer would be sitting at home with us right now, likely thwacking an eager paw on my keyboard in an effort to help me with the blog.<br /></div><br />It isn't often we run across a dog who'll run pell-mell across the playpen when you call, only to slam on the brakes and nuzzle or hop up and wait for you to catch his paws and snuggle him. Nor does every dog seem equally at ease romping like a maniac, then flopping down next to you for some quality hang-out time. Homer seems to be game for whatever you are, with enthusiasm and affection to spare. And I never would have guessed it, just watching him sulk all alone in his kennel.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">UPDATE (12/24): <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Although tentatively </span></span>"earmarked" for a rescue group, Homer wasn't picked up yesterday. He'll be spending Christmas in the shelter, along with Hershey and so many other dogs. At least they aren't out in the snow, foraging for whatever they can eat - but I still wish they were all somewhere warm, loving, and smelling like "home" to them.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE (12/28):</span> Finally! Homer gets one step closer to having a home of his own - he was picked up today by a rescue group, and I couldn't be happier!<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-56237762448427159522009-12-17T21:24:00.000-06:002009-12-29T20:50:03.786-06:00Hershey<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v421/filegcjN/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Hershey_Winnah.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v421/filegcjN/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Hershey_Winnah.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">When Hershey first came into the shelter, I was on my way out with another dog. His owner spun him around and pressed him against the wall, indicating that I should keep the other dog away (I went out another exit). Apparently, there had been an "incident" with Hershey and another dog, and no one wanted a repeat performance.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I'll be the first to admit, it takes a <span style="font-style: italic;">lot</span> to convince me that a dog is "just bad." I don't always agree with Cesar Millan, but I do think he's spot-on when he says that the overwhelming majority of dog problems are based in their environment (and particularly the humans that interact with them). Thus far, Hershey hasn't betrayed my optimism for him.<br /><br />He's no perfect little puppy, of course - at a modest 93 pounds, he's used to doing what he wants, when he wants to do it. Hershey's pretty sharp, though, and he seems to be getting the hang of this "dog/human teamwork" thing quite well. When it came time to weigh him, he climbed right up onto the scale and waited patiently... and then stepped back down, paused, and on again when we realized that we'd forgotten to turn the scale on. All the while, he was just happy for the attention.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images19.fotki.com/v276/filezyh3/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Hershey_Grooming.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 93px;" src="http://images19.fotki.com/v276/filezyh3/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Hershey_Grooming.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images52.fotki.com/v1568/fileBop7/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/HersheySavannah.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 87px; height: 95px;" src="http://images52.fotki.com/v1568/fileBop7/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/HersheySavannah.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images47.fotki.com/v1590/filea54u/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Hershey_02.jpg"> <img style="cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 95px;" src="http://images47.fotki.com/v1590/filea54u/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Hershey_02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><br />In fact, attention is one thing I think Hershey is needing desperately. It took quite a while - and quite a lot of brushing - to make an appreciable difference in the gritty, oily, dander-crusted mess that was his coat. He didn't seem to mind a bit, which made a nice change from trying to brush our rowdy and grooming-shy dog, Rufus. Hershey's elbows and hocks were scuffed and skinned up, and his collar was pretty filthy - despite still having the plastic price-tag hanger attached to it. I got the impression that someone was in a bit of a rush when they put it on him, long ago.<br /><br />We gingerly tested his bad reputation with other dogs, starting with an adorable (and pregnant) beagle named Savannah. (She's available too! Hint, hint...) Their conversation seemed to consist mostly of:<br /><br />"Wow, you're big."<br />"Yep. You're kinda' small, aren't you?"<br />"Hey, I got buns in the oven. See? Wow. You're big."<br />"Er, thanks."<br /><br />No tension, no drama. A good start. Next we brought out <a href="http://shelterdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/12/homer.html">Homer</a>, a male Pit Bull Terrier. No problems at all when they met, although Homer really wanted to romp around and Hershey wasn't overly keen on puppy antics. He did, however, want to go out and walk around. When Homer marked a pillar, Hershey casually sniffed it and moved on - apparently, he's secure enough in his doghood to not feel compelled to "over-mark" other males. There was one moment of tension when another puppy was brought outside, and Homer took the opportunity to get up in Hershey's face. A low growl ensued, and we decided that a break from the happy-go-luckyness was in order.<br /><br />Later, when the vet was taking Hershey out of his kennel, there was a brief moment of alarm when he and <a href="http://shelterdiaries.blogspot.com/2009/12/miller.html">Miller</a> lunged at each other through the kennel door. He backed down as soon as he was reprimanded for it, and I got a visible cringe from him when I put a rebuking finger on his nose (which seemed a bit of an over-reaction to a "hush" command). After getting his weigh-in and check-out, I took him back to his kennel. No problem passing Savannah's kennel, or Joker (another adolescent male), or Homer. As soon as we reached Miller, though, the retriever was at his door, barking and bristling. Hershey tensed up, but relaxed again when I told him to leave it alone. He acted up once more, growling when I had moved between the two dogs - and again dropped the drama when told to.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images18.fotki.com/v437/fileVNve/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/HersheyTim_01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 224px;" src="http://images18.fotki.com/v437/fileVNve/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/HersheyTim_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />I'm not sure if Hershey's issues with other dogs are simply testosterone-based (he's 6 years old, and not neutered), or if it's a wayward side-effect of his guarding instincts (all three times he got agitated, there was a person between him and another confident, male dog). For now, he'll need supervision when around other dogs, and a lot of good, old-fashioned training. Personally, I'd love to see him rescued by a group that specializes in German Shepherds, who can re-direct his lonliness, frustration, and tenseness to more satisfying, challenging outlets.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">As I said before, I tend to give dogs the benefit of the doubt. I don't doubt for a minute that Hershey would unhesitatingly end any fight brought to him. There aren't many dogs that I've seen with quite so much desperate affection in their eyes, either. He's a bit of a fixer-upper, perhaps, but my gut tells me that he might be well worth the effort, and then some.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">UPDATE (12/29):</span> As <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12767536709728162066">Tajana</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12767536709728162066"> and Almir</a> pointed out, Hershey was rescued today! He's made so much progress since he came into the shelter, I have little doubt that he'll earn himself a permanent place in someone's heart - and family - soon.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div></div><br /></div></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8071912501474583183.post-33818157760816968722009-12-17T20:59:00.001-06:002009-12-17T21:24:50.299-06:00Miller<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images53.fotki.com/v431/filehzao/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Miller_01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="http://images53.fotki.com/v431/filehzao/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/Miller_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br />We didn't get much of a chance to get to know Miller - while we were out in the play yard with him, a rescue volunteer was on her way to pick him up. What we did get to see of him was both impressive and a little bit frustrating.<br /><br />As dogs go, Flat-Coated Retrievers are some of the most elegant-looking out there. Miller's certainly no exception, and he's gifted with show-dog poise and grace on top of that. He doesn't so much run as float, and he carries his flag-like tail high and proudly. And... that's part of the worrisome bit.<br /><br />There's usually no way for us to know what kind of life the dogs at the shelter led before they wound up here. But it would be a pretty plausible guess that he was bought as a cute puppy, turned into a cute (and far less tractable) adolescent a couple of months later, and was simply not given any attention from that point on. He's affable, but unconcerned with people, and his dog-to-dog conversational skills seem... er, lacking. I don't speak canine, but whatever he's been saying to the dogs in the surrounding kennels hasn't endeared him to the other guys on the kennel block.<br /><br />Fortunately, he's going to a first-rate rescue group, who will get him up to speed on the socialization he missed out on earlier in life. Which is a great thing; it shouldn't take much to turn Miller from the gorgeous but aloof adolescent he is into the gorgeous and much-loved dog he should have been all along.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images47.fotki.com/v1588/fileRZuv/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/MillerTim_01.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 261px;" src="http://images47.fotki.com/v1588/fileRZuv/7a240/0/1520390/8254096/MillerTim_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 204);">.</span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>Shelter Diarieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04315155187422493523noreply@blogger.com0