Shelter Diaries

Little Vlad

2012-01-20T21:54:00.002-06:00

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.
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.
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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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 that 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.

Nyla

2011-12-06T04:11:00.001-06:00

There's a dog that we've never talked about in Shelter Diaries 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.

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.

I had seen some pretty badly mangled Pit Bulls before. Sam, 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.

And that's why no owner would ever reclaim her. Nyla was a fighting dog.

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. Sit. Lie down. Good girl. High-five. 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.

And then it happened.

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.

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.

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 Buster'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.

Paige

2010-08-10T22:23:00.006-05:00

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!

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.

"And if you adopt one Paige today, we'll even throw in a second set of back dewclaws FREE as an added bonus!"

UPDATE 7/11: Took Paige outside again today, and she was really happy to get a chance to stretch her legs. 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.

ShoeShine!

2010-06-26T03:21:00.007-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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UPDATE 6/30: 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.
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A Request

2010-03-18T12:53:00.002-05:00

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.

If you have (or know someone who has) an animal that was adopted from the Irving Animal Shelter - especially one featured here on Shelter Diaries - 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.

If you do have photos you'd like to contribute, please e-mail them to us at onimusic@verizon.net. Thanks!

Sandy

2010-03-07T17:42:00.003-06:00

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. And I absolutely love every inch of her! 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.

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.

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.

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.

UPDATE 3/09: 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.
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Harley

2010-02-19T12:06:00.000-06:00

We haven't been able to take Harley outside his kennel yet, but check out these photos. He is too cute!

We'll do a proper write-up when we have more to tell you. He really does seem terribly sweet, though.

(UPDATE 2/24): 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.

Sadie

2010-02-19T12:02:00.000-06:00

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, Mia, 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.)

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.

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.

UPDATE (2/22): 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.

Jasper, the One-Eared Dog

2010-02-11T00:27:00.000-06:00

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

NOTE: Time and weather allowing, we'll try to introduce him to our dog Amelia tomorrow - she's no stranger to working with frightened dogs herself, and maybe she'll help Jasper locate his misplaced confidence.

UPDATE (2/11): 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.

And, at long last - Jasper smiled today.

UPDATE (2/13): 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...

UPDATE (2/19): 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.

UPDATE (2/20): 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 and has a strong prey drive and should not be in a household with cats or other small animals unless supervised. 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 onimusic@verizon.net.

Help Needed

2010-02-03T23:11:00.000-06:00

Three lovely young dogs - Rexa, 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."

That leaves our girls in a bit of a bind until space at the foster homes can be made once again.

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.

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 "chip-in" page to help offset the cost of boarding and vetting them. Please donate if you can - no matter how small, every bit will help.

All three of these girls are outstanding ambassadors for their breeds, and we think they deserve the best future they can get.

http://savinglivestogether.chipin.com/rexa-gilda-and-layla

Remo (the Second)

2010-02-03T22:25:00.002-06:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

UPDATE: 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.

UPDATE (2/6): ADOPTED! 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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Doak

2010-01-21T23:28:00.000-06:00

When little Doak arrived at the shelter, I honestly didn't give him much thought. I figured, He's young, friendly, smart, extremely cute... He'll be adopted right away.

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.

Doak knows a good vintage clover when he sees one...

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.

That said, little Doak has plenty of aptitude in the fine arts of snuggles and affection as well.

UPDATE 1/22: Doak was rescued! We're so glad he's safe and on the way to being a great pet.

Rexa

2010-01-17T10:51:00.001-06:00

Right next door to Winston 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.

Rexa aims to please

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 you...) 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.

She's not actually barking here, she's just making a funny face
after some goofing around with me in the yard.

UPDATE (1/21): 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.

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, that's a curious thing."

I can't help thinking that Rexa's an extraordinary dog; one that deserves an extraordinary owner, and an extraordinarily happy life.

UPDATE 1/22: 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.

UPDATE 1/28: Rexa has been pulled for rescue by K.A.R.E. (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, please click here.

Winston

2010-01-17T02:28:00.000-06:00

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.

Check out that cute ridge down his neck

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.

Winston learning that he's got friends.

UPDATE (1/21): 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.

UPDATE (2/6): We stopped by the local Petsmart (where Lost Paws Rescue of Texas 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.

Pookey

2010-01-14T00:31:00.001-06:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
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UPDATE (1/15): 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.

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.

Shelter Diaries Special: Mia

2010-01-11T16:00:00.000-06:00

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.

Mia's page
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Opinion Time - All About the Fight

2010-01-07T23:27:00.000-06:00

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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."

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 Shelter Diaries' 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.

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.

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.

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.

Corina

2010-01-07T22:43:00.001-06:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

UPDATE (1/15): 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.

UPDATE (1/21): 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!

Merlin and Corina: Video

2010-01-06T13:40:00.000-06:00

A short video of Merlin and Corina - another happy-go-lucky gal who I will feature later today.

Merlin

2010-01-06T13:11:00.000-06:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

UPDATE (1/7): 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.

You were well named, Merlin. And I'm going to miss you so very much.
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Follow us on Facebook

2010-01-04T13:15:00.000-06:00

We'll still update here, but if you've got a facebook account, join the group: Shelter Diaries.

Grief

2009-12-20T23:43:00.000-06:00

A woman came into the shelter this weekend to have her dog euthanized.

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.

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. 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.

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.

"It won't hurt, will it? What'll happen when they do it?"

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.

She nodded, then started crying. "It's all my fault. I should have done something else. I should have done more..."

Those words were very familiar. They were pretty much what I'd told myself, over and over again, when Buster 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.

What more would her dog have asked of her?

I wish I could have put it more eloquently and completely, as the behavioral psychologist Patricia McConnell did on her blog, here. Sophie recently pointed this article out to me (under the heading of, "you really, really 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.

Just before she left, I told her the one thing she could have done - the one thing she still could do, in spite of everything: "Just try to always be the person your dog thinks you are."

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.
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Homer

2009-12-17T22:54:00.000-06:00

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.

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.

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 bored 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."

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, This. This is exactly what a Pit Bull is supposed to be.

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.

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.

UPDATE (12/24): Although tentatively "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.

UPDATE (12/28): 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!
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Hershey

2009-12-17T21:24:00.000-06:00

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.

I'll be the first to admit, it takes a lot 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.

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.

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.

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:

"Wow, you're big."
"Yep. You're kinda' small, aren't you?"
"Hey, I got buns in the oven. See? Wow. You're big."
"Er, thanks."

No tension, no drama. A good start. Next we brought out Homer, 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.

Later, when the vet was taking Hershey out of his kennel, there was a brief moment of alarm when he and Miller 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.

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.

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.

UPDATE (12/29): As Tajana and Almir 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.
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Miller

2009-12-17T20:59:00.001-06:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

A Kind Winter, Thus Far

2009-12-12T10:01:00.000-06:00

Well, here it is December already - and much has happened since the last time I posted anything.

Gheera, one of my two fourteen-year-old cats passed away in his sleep, content and comfortable. I couldn't have asked for a better way to go, although his brother Tez is a bit lonely now; as friendly as they are, the dogs are no replacement for his litter-mate and long-time sidekick.

Amelia's stuffy head has finally cleared up (a bit... she still snores like a lumber mill sometimes), she survived her spay surgery with only a little bit of worry on my end, and is now bouncy, playful, and as clumsy as I've ever seen a dog. She's come such a long way both physically and mentally in the past two months, and I couldn't be happier about it.

Rufus, on the other hand, continues to be an angsty teenager. Our list of "Things that Rufus has eaten or destroyed" continues to grow, but he's starting to relax a bit. And I'm beginning to learn to take things in stride, and put them in perspective - which I can't say is a bad thing for me. Even when they're not so good, dogs can bring good things to our lives. Mind you, Rufus doesn't spend all of his time moping or searching for the next sock/CD/book to inspire the next game of "chase me": he's one of the most empathetic and loving dogs I've run across, and there's a lot of potential for things both great and terrible from him. I wouldn't trade any of that for the world.

Today (in about 15 minutes, in fact), I'm off to help with an adoption event at the Irving Mall. If you're in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area today, feel free to drop by any time from noon to 3, and meet a few of the folks (and animals) that make the shelter work day in and day out. Maybe even take one home (er... one of the animals, that is).

I'll try to post something more substantial later today, but for now I must run and put on my dog-wrangling attire...

Fold The Page

2009-10-14T13:55:00.000-05:00

Over the past couple of months, we haven't updated Shelter Diaries nearly as often as we should, or as often as we'd like to. There are many reasons for our abscence, and I felt that it would be a good idea to explain why our blog - unlike our enthusiasm - has waned recently.

Many of the reasons are ones that Sophie and I deal with every day; specifically, our own cast of animals at home. In the past year, we've lost my parrot Sam to old age and our dog Buster to distemper. Currently, we're keeping an eye on Gheera, one of my two fourteen-year old cats, who continues to baffle us. His poor, withered body seems to be shutting down more with every passing day, and yet he seems more content and happier than I've seen him since he was a kitten.

Then there's Amelia. She and Rufus are practically inseparable, even when they're driving each other up the wall. But poor Amelia's been sick since we brought her home from the shelter nearly a month ago. Her fourth trip to the vet will be next week, and we'll probably find out by then if she'll recover or not. Thankfully, young Rufus has turned out to be nigh-invulnerable to most any malady, other than a chronic lack of attention span.

Amelia's mystery illness is more than just a worry for us - it also means we can't put the shelter's animals at risk to possible infection. Which, in short, means no interaction with the shelter dogs for us.

When things are finally resolved for Amelia, we'll be faced with yet another major consideration before continuing. This summer's outbreak of distemper, coupled with the steady and swiftly rising tide of stray and abandoned animals (both healthy and ill) have necessitated new health procedures and regulations at the shelter. In sticking to "the rules" - as all volunteers at the shelter vehemently try to do - we find that we can no longer interact with most of the dogs until they are adoptable. Basically, by the time we can meet an animal, it is most likely adopted, rescued, or euthanized before we can post anything about them.

What would be available to us would be a hurried, first-impression "hey, look at this dog before it's gone forever" kind of thing, which Shelter Diaries was never intended to be. Russell Posch already does a phenomenal job of giving everyone a thorough "first-look" overview of the dogs on a daily basis (see our sidebar - no, really; we'll wait while you check it out), and there's no need for us to do a slapdash rehashing of his excellent work. At the shelter itself, our particular skills have no real place in the new dynamic. So although things are much better and safer for the dogs now, we ourselves have become a bad fit. We're happy square pegs, but square pegs nonetheless.

Perhaps when the shelter gets its new facility, we might find that there is once again a niche for us to fill, and something good that we can bring to the dogs and to the shelter personnel. But for now, it seems the most helpful thing we can do is keep from being underfoot.

Like the health of my cat Gheera, it isn't something that we want. But we can follow his lead and be content, knowing that as backward as it may seem sometimes, it's the best thing we can do for now.

Thanks for reading, and be sure to help out a dog whenever the opportunity is there: we owe them for about 14,000 years of unfaltering friendship, and all good friendships are worth taking care of.

--Tim
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Moon

2009-09-21T00:49:00.001-05:00

Moon is a stunningly beautiful Border Collie with a great personality, so we're not really worried about whether or not she gets adopted. She will. She's not too big, very pretty, friendly to everyone and a volunteer favorite. Our concern is that she end up with the right household; one that can give her enough exercise, mental challenges and something to DO so that she does not become bored and therefore destructive.

Her previous owners relinquished her for the reason "Not enough time." It's a frequent refrain and with a Border Collie, it is not surprising. These dogs are bred to herd flocks, and in the city, flocks can be cats, wildlife or the neighborhood kids. They are also considered by many experts to be THE smartest breed of dog. Therefore they need owners who can keep them challenged and give them a job to do every single day. This is not a lawn ornament nor a dog for a couch potato or lazy owner. Imagine you are a teacher and someone has placed a hyperactive Einstein in your care and you have some idea of the challenges of this breed.

Moon is such a lovebug and eager to learn. She's not shown any aggression toward cats, people or other dogs but she does need some basic training. Her desire to chase the birds outside the shelter or to round up people and dogs as they walked across the parking lot made for some fast and desperate leash-grabs. She would likely do best in a household with another dog to keep her company when her people are away, and a firm but loving owner will win her respect. Border Collies should not be bullied or intimidated. They are too smart for that. Give Moon a reason to adore you and plenty to do, and she'll be your best friend forever.

UPDATE (Sept 25): Ms. Moon was picked up yesterday (as were, thankfully, several dogs) by a rescue group. That is happy news, indeed.

Invisible Dogs

2009-09-18T17:38:00.000-05:00

This past week has been pretty unrelenting; a steady downpour of rain and a steady influx of animals seems to have left everyone's spirits a bit dampened. And between work, weather, and looking after a sickly Amelia, we haven't had an opportunity to take photos and feature anyone.

If you have clicked on the links at the side of our blog, you've probably seen the end result of one of the shelter's true heroes; our friend Russell Posch. Day in and day out, he tirelessly catalogs the comings and goings of the shelter's canine contingent, photographing them and trying to get them in front of the eyes of people who might otherwise not even know they are there. All of this post's photos are from his daily updates.

Many times, we meet a really great dog at the shelter, and can't help but feel a small, sharp jab of sadness. It seems ridiculous, but there are certain "dog stereotypes" that for no rational reason are much less likely to be adopted, rescued, or reclaimed. In many cases, people overlook these dogs entirely (as I saw happen again and again to Buster). Here are a few terrific dogs you might walk right past and never even notice:

Shelby is a fantastic kid with three unconscious strikes against him. First, he's a Labrador Retriever. As highly vaunted as Labs are with dog owners, people tend to balk at them due to their size and athleticism. Second, he's an adolescent - in fact, most dogs you find in a shelter are between the ages of 6 and 18 months old. Too old to be a cute and tractable puppy, too young to be a placid adult, these "rebellious teenager" dogs are often tossed to the wayside by owners either too frustrated, unprepared, or just thoughtless to deal with them. Third, and likely simultaneously both the most trivial and damaging strike, he's black. People tend to think of black dogs as common, unexciting, or intimidating.

All together, Shelby isn't too impressive or sparkly on a knee-jerk perusal. But if you were to pass him by without spending time with him, you'll have missed out on one heck of a dog. He's still young and playful; after feeding time, he flips his bowl over and chases it around his kennel like a hockey puck. When he's outside, he loves to explore and investigate things. The whole world seems to fascinate him, and he bounds along like a fearless canine Indiana Jones. And when his pluck and courage seem to falter or things just get quiet for a bit, he'll gently snuggle up with you. For such a small guy, Shelby seems to be brimming over with a mighty love.

Beth has so much going for her. She's small and calm (for a Labrador Retriever). Outdoors, she carries herself like a show dog, and manages to combine the grace and energy of a hunting dog with a gentle, even temperament that's delightful to be around. She's even house-trained. What on Earth could make people pass her over without even a second thought?

There are eight reasons, hanging pendulously from her belly. They are a temporary leftover of the reason she was dumped in the shelter to begin with - her owners kept her long enough to breed her, weaned and sold the puppies, then discarded her. And you would not believe how many people recoil at the sight of a recently-pregnant dog. On top of that, she's incredibly afraid and disoriented in the kennel area; the combination of strange surroundings, noisy dogs, and post-partum wooziness would put anyone ill at ease.

It took several minutes to coax Beth past the myriad barking dogs, through the lobby, and out the front door. But once outside and relaxed, the anxiety and shyness seemed to slough off her, leaving behind what seemed like a completely different dog. Looking at her, and seeing the grace and affection shining underneath the fear and sadness, I realized that her former owners will never understand what a treasure they threw away.

Maybel is a beautiful dog - the proportions of a working dog, but at about one-fifth the size of even an average German Shepherd. She has intelligent, expressive eyes, and a silky coat that would make a mink blush. All of that is a little difficult to take in at first, however, because she's quite likely to be huddled up in her kennel, shaking as if she were made of jelly.

Poor little Maybel is terrified, and I honestly can't say I fault her for it. Suddenly finding herself in a strange place, behind a kennel door, surrounded by unfamiliar, barking dogs... it's easy to imagine that being completely overwhelming. And just in case that wasn't enough to make a little dog catatonic, Maybel's first day at the shelter also happened to be very likely the first day of what was quite likely her first time in heat. She probably thought she was dying.

The first day I was able to sit with her in her kennel, she was still so terrified I was a little worried she may lash out in a fit of angst. She didn't, however, and after a couple of minutes bravely walked over to let me pet her. A couple of days later, she was walking around outside with me, a much more calm and confident dog. I noticed for the first time that her fluffy tail loops around itself and slightly to the side, like that of a Shiba Inu or Basenji. And I also noticed that she's got a great - if elusive - smile.

UPDATE 9/21: All three dogs have been adopted or rescued! Hooray!

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Kuno

2009-09-13T19:47:00.000-05:00

At first glance, Kuno can look like a pretty tough customer. There's little doubt that he is tough: there doesn't seem to be an ounce of his hefty frame that isn't muscle, and he seems to have no idea what the word "uncomfortable" means. And like most real "tough guys," he's got the heart of a playful puppy.

In fact, if Kuno had one flaw that we could point to, it's that no one ever taught him the difference between a 6-pound puppy and a 60-pound grown up. He's starting to grasp the concepts of walking vs. dragging, snuggling vs. head-butting, and his kisses occasionally have a bit of teeth to them (note: that's "teeth" as in a puppy-like nip - which all dogs have to be taught not to do with people - and most definitely not a malicious or forceful bite), but he is still a bit of a newcomer to the whole thing, and could use a friend (or family) with a bit of patience and understanding while he's learning. He may be an older dog, but wants very much to learn some new tricks.

Learning that "jumping up" is only
all right when asked to do so.

Kuno isn't a celebrity award-winning fetcher, mostly because puppy games seem less fun to him than running around and just hanging out with the people he's fond of. I get the impression, though, that he'd love to learn new things, as long as he thought it made the folks around him happy. In fact, being around happy people seems to be at the top of his short list of "must-haves": food, some fun exercise, a tree to pee on from time to time, and the love and approval of his packmates.

He takes to new friends quickly and will be a loving and faithful member of someone's household. If you want a tough-looking dog with a great disposition, you really should come meet Kuno. He'll be thrilled to meet you.

UPDATE 9/16: Along with Royce and several other top-notch dogs (please check the "Urgent Dogs" sidebar), Kuno is on the "short list." If the shelter has another day as unbalanced as the past two (we're talking a 5- or 6-to-1 ratio of "in" vs. "out" here, people), both he and Royce will very likely have to be put to sleep to make room for incoming animals.

UPDATE 9/22: Kuno was finally rescued today! We're so glad he's safe now. Be good, fella!

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Royce and Becky

2009-09-10T21:58:00.001-05:00

Royce and Becky have a few things in common: they are both pit mixes, (he's pit/mastiff, she's pit/retriever) both about a year old and both rather timid about coming out of their kennels. Becky is so afraid she has to be carried outside and being on a leash makes her very nervous. Royce gets so anxious about going outside he'll just lay down on the ground or try to bolt back inside. But today when we brought them together, they gave each other courage and a sense of belonging that was heartwarming to witness. They are also both incredibly sweet and gentle dogs, eager for a loving pet or to be allowed to give kisses, which they do with wild abandon.

Becky came in with a leg injury, possibly a pulled muscle or tendon. She seems to be fine now although she does walk high up on her toes. When I have her on a leash, she sits down or pulls away. Off of a leash (but still inside the shelter) she keeps close and follows much more confidently. She seems to be comfortable around other dogs and shows absolutely no aggression toward anyone or anything so far.

Royce has that same even temperament. We thought that bringing these two kids together could be an interesting experiment. Both seem so very submissive and shy. We took Becky out of her kennel first-- off-leash since she wouldn't follow along otherwise-- and went to Royce's kennel and got him. They greeted each other politely, then (and she had to wear the leash at this point) we headed as a group toward the back door. Royce hesitated at the threshold but his desire to follow another dog was too strong and he eventually came outside on his own. Then Becky got intimidated but seeing Royce with us made her want to keep up with this strange new pack and she went along with us to the play yard.

Once inside, they sniffed each other, did a brief bit of "climbing" one over the other and there was only one brief moment of tension-- a single growl-- and then everything was fine. From two little dogs too timid to walk outside to a pair of romping, jumping, chasing puppies, Becky and Royce transformed in just a matter of minutes. It was amazing.

I think that either dog would do well in a home with another dog who is not overly aggressive or bossy. They've made a huge stride toward overcoming their shyness and insecurity. (Both are owner surrenders.) Given a stable, loving home, these will be some of the best dogs anyone could ask for. They just want to know they belong. These are very special dogs and they deserve a chance to prove it.

UPDATE 9/15: Royce is still there and now on the "urgent" list. He also seems a little bit sneezy, and it looks pretty bleak for him. We're still holding on to hope that he gets adopted or rescued tonight.

Becky, on the other hand, has been adopted. BY US! :) Yup, she's our girl now and we've renamed her "Amelia," (Emmy for short).

Although she's also feeling a bit under the weather and is a bit stiff in her back legs - both she and Royce may have been handled a little too roughly by their previous owner - she'll have a futon to sleep on, a thorough check-up, and Rufus to keep her entertained (and largely sleepless, at present).

UPDATE 9/17: Royce was one of a handful of dogs put to sleep today. He had become quite ill (as has Becky/Amelia) and the shelter is crowded again. I guess the rain makes people resent their dogs or something. :( Before Tim took Amelia home, he brought her by Royce's kennel so he could see she was okay. It seemed to cheer him up. He was a great dog.

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Colter

2009-09-05T16:34:00.000-05:00

With all of the bustle and noise associated with an animal shelter, some dogs are easy to overlook. Colter isn't one of those dogs.

The first time I saw him, I was headed to the kitchen to fetch a bucket of water. Saying a brief "hello" to all of the dogs on the front row of kennels, I saw a lanky, black head pop up over the edge of one of the back kennels... and it kept rising... and rising. Colter stretched up to greet me, and looked like nothing so much as a large, black deer with floppy ears. We met more formally at feeding time, where I got to duck briefly into his kennel. He hopped around like an excited puppy, but settled down and sat for his dinner like a trooper. It wasn't hard to tell that he was quite a people-oriented dog, and I looked forward to being able to take him out and play once his waiting period was over (the shelter holds dogs for 3-6 days usually before they become adoptable, to give owners a chance to come in and claim a lost animal).

He's tall and lanky - no exaggeration, his nose pokes me in the chest when he stands up straight - but underfed, and quite thin for a Great Dane. We think he might have something else in him as well, perhaps Labrador Retriever (or moose). Colter isn't too crazy about playing fetch, but loves a good run, and a leisurely walk with a friend. That's a good thing, because it seems everyone at the shelter wants to take him out for a gambol.

I wouldn't recommend Colter for a family with small children, but not because he's bad-tempered. There isn't a mean bone in his body, and that's a lotta' body to be talking about. He is young, though, and doesn't always remember that some people aren't as well-equipped for an exuberant, frisky puppy jumping on them as other folks. Especially when that puppy is four feet tall. That noted, he's attentive and eager to please, and delightful to romp around with. It's a little weird watching him run and jump (there's so much of him, it looks like he's running in slow-motion), but if you've got a little patience and a high slobber-threshold, it would be hard to find a better pal than Colter. He works hard to put the "Great" in Great Dane.

UPDATE 9/5: Colter was adopted! :)

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Bradley (code name: The Gryffon)

2009-09-05T16:04:00.000-05:00

I'll let you in on a little secret: sometimes Tim and I "rename" the dogs. We call this guy "Gryffon" (although Tim might argue me on the spelling of it). I'm writing this entry, I get to spell it like I want. :D

Gryffon, er, Bradley is an Irish Wolfhound mix. What the other part of the mix is, well, that's up for debate. Maybe Labrador? He's a really down-to-earth, relaxed sort of dog. He gets along well with both hyper puppies (one a terrier, one a German Shepherd) that we introduced him to. As you can see from the following photos, he really is a gentleman even under duress:

The smaller dog is Pepper, who we had planned to feature as well, but she, like the German Shepherd puppy, was adopted today. As sweet and adorable as the younger dogs are, Tim and I are both really drawn to Gryf. He has a lot of character in his somewhat scruffy face and his kind eyes. At first he was very timid, scooting back to the far end of his kennel when we'd come visit. But his caution gives way to trust eventually and he enjoys a walk outside and a scratch behind his ear. He's not glompy or overly-salacious with affection. Perhaps with time and the comfort and security of a forever home, he'll come out of his shell and express his affection more readily. He's a great dog and will just get better with time and love.

UPDATE 9/10: Our sweet boy was put to sleep this morning. Someone wanted to adopt him, but apparently he was too ill to be adopted out. I'm so sorry we couldn't save you soon enough, Gryffon. We loved you, though. I hope that made your last days a little bit better. Good bye, buddy.

Candy

2009-09-02T13:14:00.000-05:00

You probably don't notice anything odd about Candy from this photo. Instead, you see her sweet, happy face, her pretty coloring and her pink collar-- meaning at one time, she was somebody's baby. I was surprised to see such a lovely spaniel at the shelter and figured she would be adopted right away. But Candy has a little problem. Maybe a big one:

See that strange pink thing? It's a tumor that practially drags the ground. It's got to be uncomfortable and needs to be removed. Sadly, the sort of labwork that needs to be done for her might not be available in the shelter setting. It could be a matter of taking it off so she can live a long happy life, or it might indicate cancer that's already spread throughout her body and removing it would only make her more comfortable, not save her life. But frankly, I don't think it matters which. Even a week or a month of freedom from it would mean so much to her. Quality, not quantity of days is what matters.

Candy loves to be outside, even on the hottest days, and cries when you put her back in her kennel. I had to pick her up and carry her into the shelter yesterday and at first I thought touching the tumor would be sort of gross but really, it's just part of her body, and the relief of me carrying her made her relax a bit. I feel so sad for her. I wonder if she was abandoned because of her condition. It's hard enough to face an undiagnosed illness. Harder still to do it alone in the world.

Candy hasn't given up yet.

UPDATE 9/3: Candy's growth began bleeding internally and she was euthanized this morning. She's free of it at last.

Arlene

2009-08-27T22:23:00.001-05:00

There is nothing quite as comforting and reassuring after a rough day/week/month as cuddling a sweet, snuggly, furry puppy or kitten. Having lost so many dogs during the distemper outbreak, seeing this little face again was a joy and a sign of hope. She is a mix of... well, I'm not sure and I don't recall what the kennel card says, but she is likely going to be a big girl when she grows up, which is why she's still at the shelter. But just look into those big chocolate-drop eyes and tell me she wouldn't fit right into your heart.

Arlene survived the distemper outbreak in spite of her tender age and precarious location. After all that, it would be such a tragedy for her not to make it out. Hopefully, someone with room to spare will come for her. She will give that person a lifetime of cuddles and comfort.

UPDATE 9/1: Arlene was adopted! What a lucky dog and what a lucky owner! I'll miss her but I'm so glad she's safe!

Shelter Diaries on hold

2009-08-16T01:21:00.000-05:00

Due to an outbreak of illnesses at the shelter, as well as personal reasons, Tim and I will be taking a break from the blog for a few weeks at least. We're still very much devoted to helping our furry friends, but we need some time to recover from a rather traumatic week. We wish all the best to our friends, both human and animal, at the Irving Animal Shelter and are deeply saddened by what's happening there.

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Squeeky

2009-08-05T23:48:00.000-05:00

We don't feature puppies much here on Shelter Diaries. Puppies are cute and popular and pretty much sell themselves. Everyone seems to want a puppy but so many times we get these same little guys back six months to a year later because they outgrew the "cute" phase and were never properly taught how to be civilized dogs.

I'm not sure why Squeeky was brought in. He was friendly, happy, affectionate and so darn cute. In fact, one of the things Tim told me a week or so ago-- the day that Squeeky came in-- was that he looked like our Rufus did at that age. When I met him at the shelter the next day, I had to agree. I got into his kennel and cuddled him and kissed him and laughed as he kissed me back, even though he nipped my chin and nose as he did so. Here was an awesome puppy who just needed a bit of training.
A few days later, the area he was being kept in was quarantined off after a couple of dogs came down with a serious illness. We weren't allowed into the area for a few days. I worried about my little buddy and was so happy to see him alive and happy a couple of days ago. He was curled up in his "nest": a plastic bin with a blanket inside. We snuggled and played a bit and then I went to make the rest of the rounds.

Yesterday, Tim and I took him outside to get some photos. His favorite game seemed to be "chase," and he happily ran after us, then turned and let us chase him.

In fact, the only way to get him to hold still was to either roll him over on the ground or else pick him up. We had so much fun but it was hot out and our little buddy had dinner waiting for him inside. I put him back into his kennel and said goodbye.

It wasn't supposed to be forever.

He was a tough little stinker, but puppies are fragile and when sickness hits, it tends to harm most the very young and the very old. Squeeky became ill quite suddenly and was euthanized today. I'll never know the kind of dog he'd have grown up to be, but I like to think that he'd be like my Rufus.

I miss you, Squeeker. I love you.

Rusty

2009-08-02T19:56:00.000-05:00

Rusty is one of those dogs that's both easy to overlook, and really difficult to (and one that I should have featured days ago - I really apologize). He's a mix of... well, dogs. I'm pretty sure. Beyond that, there's some kind (or many kinds) of shepherd in him. And if you have a soft spot for mutts, he's your man. Or dog.

Fair warning: Rusty isn't a dog for the faint of heart or the timid of spirit. Like Sarge, if Rusty had a sleeve, his heart would be worn proudly on it. He's about five years old at our best guess, and I wouldn't be terribly surprised if a lot of that was spent as a stray, or possibly just not having a lot of pinky-up-when-you-drink-your-tea kind of social interaction. What he lacks in sophistication, he easily makes up for in friendliness, though.

When walking him, don't expect a lot of calm and tranquility on a quick jaunt to the mailbox and back. Rusty is definitely a dog of action, and he needs a couple of minutes of quality exercise to shake out his inner puppy before he can settle into a groove. If you don't feel like jogging, he's fine with that; he'll simply run around in circles like a carousel animal until he gets winded, and just a tad dizzy. After that, it's chocks away and he's your number one wingman.

If the first thing you notice about Rusty is his joie de vivre, the second will probably be all of his diplomas from the School of Hard Knocks. His face is peppered with scars and grey hair. There are scuffs on his eye, mouth and elbow that tell of a possible skidding halt on concrete or asphalt. His swaggering gait has a hint of a limp to it (which might be related to the skinned-up elbow). At one point, a child petting him said, "I don't think he likes that dog over there. It sounds like he's growling." Putting my head down close to his, I noticed that instead of growling, he was laughing - and likely, an earlier broken nose had given him a peculiar, gravelly pant.

Reading back through this entry, I feel like I've done Rusty such injustice - I've pointed out every flaw and quirk that would make the faint of heart... well, faint. But the right person will see the character and history in every grey hair and every scar. And they'll know how to smooth off the rough bits, laugh at the pratfalls, and burnish the larger-than-life qualities that make Rusty absolutely shine.

UPDATE (Aug. 4): Things keep getting more frustrating at the shelter. There's construction on the street just outside (you can even see it in the top photo), so no one is really coming in to look at dogs or cats. Seems like the only people driving the extra couple of blocks to get there are doing so to drop off more animals they don't want.

Rescue groups have come, and come again - pulling what animals they can to place in "no kill" shelters and foster homes. But they're full. And the shelter is full. And every time I see Rusty's smiling face as he asks for just one more walk outside, just a few more minutes of palling around... My heart breaks a little bit more.

UPDATE (August 8): Rusty was picked up yesterday by a rescue group! I'm not sure which one yet, but I'll try to follow-up if I can find out more.

Smitty (AKA, "Buster")

2009-07-29T23:49:00.000-05:00

Weekends at the shelter are usually a great time - some of the most amazing folks volunteer there, and Saturday is when most of them can shake loose from the daily grind and come play. One of my favorite volunteers is a guy who always seems to have an extra bit of happiness to share around, and a real way with dogs both large and small. After having spent time exercising dogs ranging from Chihuahuas to a St. Bernard, he got ready to call it a day and hopped in his car.

A few minutes later, he came back into the shelter with this young fellow in tow. While leaving, he had seen a couple of guys in a truck slow down a bit, chuck this poor dog out onto the sidewalk (at about 10-15 miles an hour), and speed away. Without pausing a beat, he had pulled over, scooped up the pup, and whisked him back to the shelter to be checked out.

When I got back to the shelter (I was away when it had happened), young Smitty was sitting in his kennel, shaking and looking around nervously. Moreover, he hadn't touched his food. I sat down next to him, casually looking around and waiting for him to calm down. Smitty - who I straightaway nicknamed "Buster," owing to both his earlier pratfall and his deadpan face - sniffed at me cautiously, then licked the air nervously. I gently petted his shoulder, and he crawled right into my lap and promptly fell asleep. I felt so guilty when I had to finally get up and go, but he took it in stride, and nibbled a bit at his dinner.

Monday, Sophie and I decided to brave the rain and take Buster out for a few photos. He was very calm and friendly, though he kept trying to crawl up into my lap whenever he had the chance. Remarkably, he seems to have walked away from his tumble with only a few minor scratches and scrapes, which made me very happy.

When I had to clean his kennel later on, I simply clipped his lead to one of my belt loops, and he followed me so well he never even took the slack out of the leash. And when I was in the kennel next door with Chester, I would periodically glance up to see Buster's eager face bounce up over the kennel wall, then back out of sight. It seems like now that he's seen a bit of comfort and affection, he's very hesitant to let it slip away.

Best of all, I saw him smile today - something I hadn't seen since he came in.

UPDATE (August 1):

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UPDATE (August 14): Two weeks. Buster was with us for only 13 days, then he was gone - the "kennel cough" that he'd contracted had masked the only early symptoms of canine distemper, a far more serious (and lethal) infection. By the time any tangible symptom had appeared (in Buster's case, myoclonus of the facial muscles), it was far too late. In less than twenty-four hours, he was beset by pneumonia, encephalitis, disorientation and seizures. He might have been able to hold on another day, perhaps less; and if by some miracle he survived (CDV is untreatable), he would have suffered horrifically and been left destroyed both physically and mentally.

It was an impossibly painful decision, but we decided that Buster's last memories should be ones that would give him comfort, not agony or fear or hysteria. He was euthanized by anesthesia overdose yesterday, and his body cremated to prevent any other animals from being contaminated.

I can handle the grief - the sorrow, the pain of loss. I can cope with the guilt that I'd let him down so very badly, and wasn't able to save him. The only thing I can't grapple with right now is the anger; the abject disgust for the reason he was in the shelter in the first place, the reason he got sick. The reason he died.

The chance that a mature dog will contract CDV is remakably small, assuming that the human who is responsible for him gives enough of a shit to keep his vaccinations up-to-date. Because someone couldn't be bothered though, Buster is dead.
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Rufus!

2009-07-27T23:39:00.001-05:00

Just a couple of weeks after we began volunteering at the animal shelter, Sophie ran across this tiny ball of fur. It looked to everyone like a cross between a Husky and a potato (because up until a certain age, all dogs look pretty much like potatoes). As Sophie sat with the puppy, named "Rufus," snuggling and comforting it, the Shelter Director walked up and nodded in their direction.

"That puppy's too young to stay here. It'll need a foster home." She punctuated the latter sentence with what novelists refer to as 'a significant look'.

After discussing it with Sophie, we agreed that - ready or not - someone would have to step up, and it might as well be us. Thus began two months' worth of attempted house-training, socializing, and looking for a good, stable owner to adopt him. The sleepless nights came as an added bonus. Four aborted adoption missions later (and five other foster animals come and gone), we finally threw in the towel and declared him a "foster failure," as the shelter employees teasingly refer to it. Since he had spent 75% of his life with us thus far, we figured he could stick around for the rest of it.

Rufus has his own Blogger page, "Raising the Rufus," where we basically natter on about some of the ups and downs of bringing up a puppy (now an adolescent dog) in our bizarre little world. Maybe we'll even discuss some things that we learn along the way about what to do - and what not to do - when forging a relationship with (hopefully) the furriest member of your family.

Shelter Diaries, June & July '09

2009-07-25T06:04:00.000-05:00

Dedicated to Sophie, my reason for everything.
And to Jenny - There's going to be an empty spot
in our lives just your size.

Sarge, Part 2: Fetch!

2009-07-25T00:12:00.000-05:00

Through some logistical miracle, Sarge has managed to hang on at the shelter for nearly a week now. Yesterday, I needed to take young Nedra (who appears to be a Pointer/Jack Russel Terrier Mix... talk about your energetic dogs!) out to burn off some excess jitters. Sarge wasn't at all happy about being indoors on such a nice day, so I took him out as well. I figured, why not let the old fella' hang about and watch the puppy ricochet around? Why not, indeed.

I threw a tennis ball across the yard, and Nedra chased it playfully. Sarge watched intently. The next throw was a bank-shot off of a wall, and Nedra homed in on it like a missile. Suddenly, there was a flash of black, a flurry of grass, and the ball was gone from under her nose. Sarge ambled over to me, chewing the tennis ball absently, and dropped it at my feet. A few more throws saw the two dogs racing each other to the ball, having a grand old time. Then Sarge leapt up and snatched the ball out of the air. After that, little Nedra plopped down where she stood, and just watched the old German Shepherd admiringly.

Pretty darned spry for an 8-year-old...

Today was another good day for fetch, and Sarge got to stretch his legs solo this time. He's not too keen on the big red rubber ball, but the felt-covered tennis balls bring out the puppy in him. I honestly had no idea that he could run that fast, jump that high, or scramble that nimbly. It was obvious that he was having a great time, and just as obvious how proud he was when he'd manage to grab the ball in-flight. And every time, without fail, he'd bring the ball back to me, ready for another go.

After a good, long game, I decided it was time to head inside. I put the ball down, walked over to the gate, and picked up Sarge's leash. He followed cheerfully, but stopped a few feet short. Looking around for a second, he darted back across the yard, grabbed the tennis ball, and nudged it into my hand. We did a second round of fetch, until he seemed satisfied. Then he politely tucked his head into his leash, and we headed back inside.

All the way from the playpen to the back door of the kennel area, he pranced along like a puppy as he walked.

UPDATE (7/27): When we came to the shelter today, Sarge was gone. We figured he'd been euthanized first thing in the morning, but it turns out the old boy was adopted! We are thrilled for him and hope he and his new family are a good match. Much love to you, Sarge and to Ryan and Addie, his new "parents!"

Lester

2009-07-24T22:51:00.001-05:00

Another dog that came in under less-than-great circumstances, Lester falls under the category of "Abandonment," or as I usually think of it, "Cruelty by Stupidity."

I'm not certain if Lester's owner was leaving for good (as in the case of Wendy and Mike), or just stepping out for an extended vacation - in either case, they felt that Lester would be fine on his own. Locked in an apartment for over a week, if I remember correctly. But just in case the little fella' could figure out how to open the door or order a pizza, his thoughtful owner added a few extra safety measures. Here's what he was wearing when he came into the shelter:

Sadly, Lester did not get to sport this high-fashion accessory for long. Shortly after coming in, he caught his collar on his kennel door and nearly hanged himself to death. If it weren't for the quick thinking (and quick action) of one of the Animal Control Officers, Lester could have been seriously injured or worse. And I don't even want to think about what would have happened if something similar had occurred when Lester was alone behind a locked door.

His first night there, Lester was considered pretty much unapproachable. He barked furiously at anyone who came near, jumping around and chewing nervously on his kennel. Having the luxuries of both time to watch him and a kennel door between us, I studied his barking and his movements. With each bark, he'd turn his head away, and he became shriller as you got nearer his kennel. Both of those are indicators of fear rather than aggression - not necessarily less dangerous, mind you - but a foundation to start with nonetheless.

When feeding time rolled around, hunger overpowered Lester's fear. He wagged furiously, jumping and smiling when I showed up with a bowl full of kibble. Cautiously, I waited for him to sit before turning the bowl over to him. After the first three bites, he turned and licked my hand furiously, waited for my approval, then buried his face in the bowl again. I left with the feeling that young Lester was going to be all right after all.

Since then, Lester has made an amazing turn-around. He plays well with the other dogs (although he definitely fancies himself near the top of the social ladder), is oh-so-close to figuring out what "fetch" is about, and generally loves romping around. With judicious application of treats, I managed to even get him to sit down calmly when asked. And in an uncanny show of lucidity, he learned "sit" in three repetitions (darned good for any dog), "lie down" in only two, and nailed "roll over" on the first try.

Of course, he'll probably be as scatter-brained as ever tomorrow. But who knows? Lester's been full of surprises so far.

UPDATE (July 29): Apparently, Lester never really calmed down and focused enough around anyone but me. We spent some time yesterday working on obedience commands in his kennel, since the weather wouldn't allow for outside play. He still knew how to sit and lie down, so we worked a while on "roll over," "sit up high," and "stay." Although we had only limited success, I was still very proud of him. Lester's favorite was "roll over," since that meant he got free tummy rubs.

Today, six dogs were euthanized to make room for incoming animals. Fortunately, Chester was not one of them - but sadly there was only rescue room for one Pit Bull (and Chester was by far the calmest of them all).

Lester had already been put to sleep by the time I reached the shelter this afternoon. He was so young, had been through so much, and had come so far beyond it. Even though I knew there was almost no chance he'd be adopted or rescued, I'm taking his passing extremely hard.
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Chester

2009-07-23T23:23:00.001-05:00

Although we see our share of injured and ill animals at the shelter, we don't often come across actual cases of "animal cruelty." That makes me quite happy. Unfortunately, we've had two dogs come in under that heading this week, and we'll try to feature both.

The first one is Chester. He's a good example of what would be "cruelty by neglect," or as I'd label it, "cruelty by ignorance." An animal control officer arrived on the scene, and found this poor fellow trying to re-define the term "hot dog," locked up in a car. It was 104° outside, and the owner later pointed out that the windows in the car "were open an inch or two." Regardless , when they dropped a thermometer through the window, the officer found that it was 137° inside the car. Let me repeat that, because so many people don't realize how extreme this can be: almost 140° inside the car. That is quite often hot enough to kill a dog in 15 to 30 minutes' time.

For two full days afterward, Chester was pretty much a basket case. He trusted absolutely no one, and didn't want to be touched - or near people at all. Even working with him as slowly, deliberately and carefully as I could, the best I could do was get him to eat out of my hand for a couple of minutes before he'd slink back to the far corner of his kennel. The other folks at the shelter had similar luck, and although everybody was pulling for him, it was determined that he would ultimately be completely unadoptable. The decision didn't set well with anyone, but what else can be done with a dog you can't touch, handle, or even approach?

The following morning at feeding time, Chester was waiting happily at the front of his kennel, pleasant as you please. And by about lunch time? I got a phone call from Sophie: "Hi! I'm at the shelter. Guess who's laying here with me, getting his tummy rubbed right now? Guess!" Literally overnight, Chester had gone from near-paralytic and unapproachable to friendly, outgoing and begging for play and affection. People have long vaunted the resilience of dogs, and Chester made me realize just how deep and strong that streak of resilience can be.

Later that day, he got hit litmus test - outside in the play yard, with a whole pack of Pit Bulls, an American Bulldog, and even a little Australian Cattle Dog pup. Chester was right in the middle of things, still a little bit shy with the people around him, but having a great time. Unexpectedly, he pulls on his leash a bit, and is definitely not a shrinking violet when it comes to the pecking order with other dogs. He's far from a bully, though - when he got too uppity with Colleen (a particularly submissive Pit Bull), Jenny (the Most Awesome Pit on the Planet™) put him back in line with a sharp bark from a neighboring yard. Given a little time to adjust to having so much friendliness around him, I think Chester's going to turn out to be quite the affectionate gentleman.

UPDATE 7/31: Chester was euthanized after contracting parvo. He was a good, sweet dog for all the days we knew him. Chester, you filled our hearts and they're a bit broken now without you.

Clifford

2009-07-21T02:26:00.001-05:00

Clifford when he arrived at the Irving Shelter
(photo by Russell Posch)

Every now and then, you run across a dog that changes how you think about animals entirely. For me, Clifford is without a doubt one of them.

He arrived at the shelter when I wasn't there, so the first I saw of him was a rather pathetic lump of fur in the middle of a kennel floor. He was dehydrated and malnourished, and had quite likely not been bathed or brushed for most of his seven-year life. His eyes were milky, his tail as bare as a rat's, and he seemed to have a perpetual snarl on his face that was rather off-putting. And something about him just tightened around my heart and wouldn't let go.

I mixed puppy kibble with wet food, and brought it to him to nibble on while I brushed out his tangled mass of fur. About an hour later, Clifford looked slightly more dog-like, and the floor was sooty with the dirt of ages. I got a few half-hearted tail wags before I left, and that was more than enough.

In the days that followed, Clifford was bathed and fed. His fur became less matted, his eyes brighter, and his energy level much higher - he still had his "rat tail," but that was all right. And the snarl turned out to be nothing more than an awkward fatty tumor on his cheek. Things were on a slow and steady climb for my timid pal. Then one day, everything changed.

Returning from a walk outside, Clifford insisted on veering a hard right away from his kennel. What was originally a brief detour turned into a walk around the entire shelter, with Clifford pausing in front of each new dog that had come in. He was making the rounds, greeting each one and trying to embolden the frightened dogs. After that, Clifford stuck with me whenever I could let him, helping out as our original "therapy dog for dogs." Every bit of kindness we gave him, he seemed to pass along to timid and frightened neighbors tenfold. Except for Olson.

Olson was a bit of a problem dog - big, bossy, aggressive, and disrespectful. Doubly so toward other dogs. One day, when Clifford and I passed his kennel, Olson launched himself at the door, barking and snarling at the little spaniel as if he were going to chew his way through the wire. Clifford stood his ground, slowly turned, and just stared at the larger dog, clearly unimpressed. Olson barked again, a bit less confidently. Then timidly. Then he retreated to the back of his kennel, and curled up on the floor. Clifford turned to me, wagged his tail, and we continued onward as if nothing had happened.

As all great shelter dogs should be, Clifford was rescued, then adopted. He was given to someone as a gift, however, and the recipient didn't want a dog. Shortly thereafter, he found himself back at the Dallas SPCA. Since then, he's tested positive for heartworms as well. With his age and health counting against him, they've not found a good home for him yet (although his heartworm treatment is already paid for, apparently).

Clifford now, at the Dallas SPCA

If you have patience, dog-savvy, and a quiet place for him to recover, I would think that Clifford could be a great companion. He got perfect marks on his behaviour tests, even - no small feat for a spaniel. Although he's probably a bit long in the tooth to even consider training as a therapy dog, I would love nothing in the world more than for him to hook up with someone far more talented than I, who can bring out that "spark" I saw in him, and nurture it into true greatness.

UPDATE (July 29): Clifford's profile isn't on the SPCA page anymore. I really, really hope that means he was adopted over the weekend. The world kind of needs a dog like him about now, I think.
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Sarge

2009-07-21T00:26:00.000-05:00

I have to admit, it puzzles me a bit when I see older dogs and cats being brought into the animal shelter. Don't get me wrong; I know why a lot of people do it, and I understand their reasoning.

I've seen a 14-year-old Cocker Spaniel at the shelter. In human terms, that's close to being a centenarian. Failing eyesight, dental problems, and a tumor about the size of a tennis ball on one shoulder. Not easy to look at and remember that it was once a bouncing puppy just a few short years ago. Heartbreaking to realize that same bouncing puppy quite likely won't be around much longer. In our own household, it's been a rough 18 months; we've lost a cat to illness, a bird to old age, and we have another aged cat who will be lucky if he survives another few months. It's never easy on the pet owners.

But I'd think that it's harder for the pets themselves.

I'm pretty sure that Sarge has no idea what he's doing here. He's part German Shepherd, and looks like he might have a little Akita in him as well. He's strong for his age, and confident. He's good with other dogs most of the time, even the little puppies who just don't understand what respecting one's elders is all about. Sure, his eyes may not be what they were eight years ago, and he's got some patches of dry skin and shots of grey in his fur. You'd have a hard time convincing him that any of that triviata matters, though.

I like walking with good ol' Sarge. I'm a "big dog" kind of person anyway (as if dogs like Johann and Engel weren't a giveaway there), but there's a certain ineffible quality that a lot of older dogs bring with them that's as delightful as it is elusive. Dignified but not too stuffy; proud, yet strangely affable: Sarge tries to shoot for that narrow line between the contradictions. He sometimes even manages to pull it off without too many malaprops.

Don't get me wrong - Sarge is far from genteel at times. He doesn't really understand why you look at him crossly for marking that tree, or for "mounting" that uppity youngster up in his grill. I think he genuinely assumes that every other dog in the world admires him, and he's like some kind of "Awkward Uncle Albert" trying too hard to be groovy with the younger set. He doesn't argue or complain when you correct him, but it's really, really hard to be stern with him; Sarge just carries that much unabashed affection in him.

As I write this, I know that he's been at the shelter far too long. And I know he may well be gone forever (or gone to live with someone else) before I get a chance to see him again. Strange as it sounds, a part of me is perfectly fine with that. No matter what happens from this point on, I know that Sarge managed to figure out something really important. Something that a lot of people never even come close to realizing, with all their superior brainpower.

Sarge has found his happy place, and it's not a place at all. It's wherever he happens to be.

Ways to Help Your Local Shelter

2009-07-19T14:07:00.000-05:00

Those of us that love animals tend to already have a lot of them. We always want to do more, but often it seems like we don't have the space or the money to take in another dog or cat in need. But there are other ways in which folks can help make the lives of shelter animals a bit brighter, and although they may not have the glamour of sweeping in to rescue a pet from certain doom, they are all important and necessary to keeping the animals happy and comfortable, no matter what the final outcome is.

1. Come play with us!

Your local shelter or humane society needs volunteers to walk, feed, groom and socialize the animals. Being cooped up in a cage for hours on end can make even the nicest pet grouchy, territorial and untrusting. Don't worry - you can do it at your own pace and only with the animals you are comfortable with. Even just sitting with them in their kennels or on a leash in the lobby can make a lonely dog or cat feel loved and hopeful. It also gives you the chance to talk about these pets to prospective owners as they come in. This is a great volunteering opportunity for anyone, from college kids to seniors. Contact your local animal services or Humane Society for information on volunteer classes.

Gordo, Morgan and Sophie resting after playtime.

2. Toys, Towels and Blankets!

We always seem to be in dire need of clean towels and blankets. Even with the washing machine running nonstop all day, there never seems to be enough to deal with the constant messes and spills that crop up. Keeping our friends' kennels clean and pleasant is important, and keeping warm blankets available for the sick, injured, very young and very old is also critical. Puppies, kittens, and many small breeds of dog have a difficult time maintaining body heat on a concrete floor, and with young and small animals alike, it may only be a couple of hours before a warm, clean blanket has become a soggy, smelly mess in need of laundering.

New or gently used baby blankets, towels, pet-safe toys (cotton-filled rather than polyfiber-filled), dog-safe rubber balls, cat toys, grooming brushes, clippers, leashes, collars, etc, can often be found at garage sales and thrift stores. Toys may not seem like critical items until you see a small puppy, newly separated from its littermates, snuggle up to a stuffed Spongebob Squarepants doll for comfort. We've also seen quiet, stoic dogs spring to life when a ball or frisbee is tossed across the play yard.

Check with your local shelter before bringing in any edible items, please. Some shelters may be under contract with specific pet food companies to provide only that brand's food. Treats are usually welcomed, although certain items (such as rawhide chews, which can clog plumbing) may be politely discouraged.

3. Spread the word!

It's a constant struggle against the bad and inaccurate information being circulated about animal shelters and the people who work there. Get to know what's really going on, get involved in helping, and help spread the word on the wonderful animals that need homes. Got a website? Twitter account? Flickr page? Help find these guys and gals new homes. And always remember that we are trying to be ambassadors and role-models for these animals; everything we say and do should reflect kindness and dignity, the things they need most from us.

Just as importantly, educate yourself. Help fight the tide of misinformation and ignorance regarding breeds, behaviour, animal services, and the dog trade. Discourage buying from puppy mills and disreputable breeders. Get to know the legitimate breeders in your area. Read up on behaviour, communication, training and care for animals. In addition, try and encourage others to do the same.

If cruelty, overpopulation, neglect, ignorance, fear and bad "parenting" are diseases, education and knowledge are the best vaccines.

Naomi and Her Puppies

2009-07-19T02:56:00.000-05:00

It was love at first sight. One of the shelter employees told me to go take a look in the last kennel in the very back: I did and was greeted by a pair of the bluest eyes I have ever seen, a heartbreakingly sad face and eight beautiful one-week-old puppies. Knowing that new moms can be protective, especially around strangers, I approached as politely as I could. She didn't seem defensive at all, only somewhat vigilant as I picked up one of her puppies. She was nursing four of them and another four were burrowing under the dirty blanket her owners had left with her when they ditched her and her puppies because they "can't afford them."

While she let her pups nurse, I picked up the non-nursing ones and set them on my lap where Naomi could lick their little bottoms to stimulate them to pee. Yes. On my lap. But that's okay. We were a team, and just as soon as she was done with one, I'd bring her another one. Like any other octomom (yeah, I had to use that lame joke) she's going to need help raising her family. She needs a spare room, access to food, water and a yard. She's a fantastic mother and very gentle and trusting of humans. Hopefully, someone will come to her rescue and give her a safe place to raise her puppies until they are old enough to be adopted out. She appears to be a mix of shepherd and ??? I think her card says "Cattle Dog" but I have no idea. What I do know is that she's a great dog, and her puppies are soooooooooo freaking CUTE! The shelter is no place for them, though. They don't even have their eyes open yet. If anyone can be a dog-nanny, now is the time to step up and rescue them.

Four of the eight puppalumps

NOTE (From Tim): Naomi's situation is dreadfully serious. Sadder still is the fact that her situation is dreadfully common. Every Spring and Summer, people drop off litters of dogs and cats that their "little angels" have managed to somehow produce. More often than not, when faced with the fact that their animal can and often will reproduce without being neutered, they simply discard their original pet as well. Think spaying or neutering is too expensive? If she could talk, Naomi would say that surgery was the cheap end of the equation.

An animal shelter is no place for a pup or kitten; there's just no denying the necessity for a foster or rescue. And somehow, if one can't be found, or if Naomi and her puppies are lost to illness or the crushing reality of overcrowding... somehow, those same owners will likely point an accusing finger at the people who took up the burden of their irresponsibility.

UPDATE(7/20): Although this past weekend was pretty much a nail-biter regarding Naomi, a rescue group stepped up today and took her and the puppies in. It doesn't really change the way we feel about the circumstances of her arrival, but we're thrilled and relieved beyond belief that they're all at least safe now.

Amy

2009-07-19T02:15:00.001-05:00

Amy is a ray of sunshine inside the walls of the Irving Animal Shelter. With her smooth, puppylike face and meltingly sweet chocolate drop eyes, it's a real stumper as to why Amy is still there. She's a really good girl for a puppy and loves to play with everyone she meets - whether they run on two legs or four. In one of our first meetings together, I sat down in her kennel with her and proceeded to have my face licked so frantically that my glasses fell off. She's not a bit aggressive or bossy and although she thinks everyone is her playmate, she acknowledges discipline from humans and other dogs.

When we took little Amy outside with a gruff older dog named Sarge, she bounded around him, play-bowing and clambering over his head and back. Good old gent that he is, Sarge endured it patiently up until the point he didn't, whereupon he pushed her down and "mounted" her (showing dominance, not trying to mate). She rolled onto her back happily and told him "Yuppers, you're the boss. Now let's play!" - then it was back to jumping, bounding and playing tag.

(Sarge, despite his bluster and cufuffle, is another wonderful dog about whom we will post shortly.) Amy doesn't seem to have any personality problems, unless you consider slobbering affection to be a problem. Those of us who know her just don't understand why no one has taken her home yet. She's adorable, smart and loving. She's very special and deserves a lifetime of love. She deserves a lifetime, period.

UPDATE (7/20): Amy and Sarge are two of the only three dogs left on the "Urgent List" this week that haven't been rescued or adopted. It's kind of a bittersweet thing, considering how many other dogs were actually saved today (see Naomi's entry, among others). Tomorrow, the shelter will check to see how much space they have left, and "re-evaluate" the situation. It's looking hopeful, although I've learned not to trust certain kinds of hope.

UPDATE (7/25): Amy was reclaimed by her owner, who apparently has been looking for her for weeks. We're very glad for her safe return.

Morgan

2009-07-15T23:15:00.001-05:00

I (Sophie) keep referring to Morgan as "she" but Morgan is a male. A neutered male as of last night, but a male nonetheless. Maybe I'm just sexist and because Morgan is such a gentle, affectionate little love bug, I automatically think "girl!" Or maybe it's because "Morgan" sounds feminine to me. At any rate, we like Morgan a lot. He is genuinely a sweet-natured dog and definitely best-friend material. He loves a good snuggle and will sit companionably beside you, or even in your lap if allowed to, and boy does he have kisses galore to bestow. He wasn't feeling so good today, understandably, but in spite of major discomfort, he tried to follow me out of his kennel. He should be feeling a bit more spry tomorrow and we can do more than just lay down together on a blanket on the floor, as we did today. (Yes, I would brave a pee-sprinkled blanket for this dog. He's just that special.)

Although young and energetic, Morgan is not hyper or obnoxious like some "spirited" dogs can be. He's a pleasure to be around and seems to get along with other dogs. Everyone who's met and spent time with Morgan really likes him. He's a pal. He'll hang out with you and relax, or if you're into walking or running, he'll keep up with you. You're the boss. Just be sure to give him things to do and ways to please you.

He'll even let you squish his face.

UPDATE 7/16: He was feeling much better today and spent a lot of time with various people and dogs. He is relaxed and friendly and just one of the best darn dogs I've ever met. Totally glompable and patient with not-as-friendly dogs. 100% good dog.

UPDATE 7/27: Morgan was part of a group of dogs rescued by the SPCA. He'll be safe and cared for until his forever family finds him. Congratulations, Morgan!

Johann, Days Two and Three

2009-07-13T00:24:00.000-05:00

Well, the fight continues to rid Johann of his legion of parasites. He's been given a flea/tick dip now, which makes him oh-so-popular with the other dogs. Another round of topical pesticide (the kind that soaks into the skin and hair) was added, so he's been barred from another bath until at least Monday. He's trying to put a brave face on things, but some kinds of displeasure are hard to hide.

We did get to go out for a couple of short walks and a game of fetch, so at least he could stretch his legs and breathe some fresh air. Just about everyone who passed by the two of us commented on how striking and majestic he looked, and I think the boost to his confidence helped quite a bit.

Another pick-me-up came with feeding time. I had gotten permission from the shelter's resident vet to give Johann a little something for anemia, and cookies and orange juice aren't particular canine favorites. So the big guy got a bowl of liver with his kibble. Even if the extra iron and protein were superfluous, the psychological value was immeasurable.

On day three, Johann was moved to a more easily isolated kennel - the retreating army of ticks was beginning to attack the nearby kennels, something which is absolutely verboten. His considerably less-comfortable temporary bivouac was surrounded by some fairly potent insecticide powder, which combined with the added smell of the flea dip made for a very, very unhappy dog indeed.

After one last trek outside, it was feeding time. I went to put Johann back into his temporary "oubliette of doom," and he naturally balked. A good "alpha" leads by inspiration instead of intimidation, so I stepped inside to call him in.

There was a booming bark of warning that echoed through the shelter, and I was nearly yanked off my feet. Looking back at him, I saw Johann planted firmly in the hallway, trying to pull me back out of the kennel with all of his might. Quietly, I called him over to me and cradled his head in my hands. "I know it's bad," I said calmly. "But you need this. You need to trust me."

The words were just babble to him, of course. The message, however, was earnest, heartfelt, and focused - and Johann is no idiot. He looked at me a moment, walked carefully into the kennel, and waited for his dinner.

I can't wait for this to be finished. And if I never see another tick as long as I live, it might just be too soon.

UPDATE: Well, it looks like there won't be a "Johann, Day 4" update. A rescue group came all the way from Arkansas to check him out, along with Buzz, a BullMastiff / Lab mix. Apparently, both of the boys left a good impression, and they set out for their new foster-homes right away. I'm very happy for Johann, but a little bit sad for myself: I didn't even get a chance to say "Goodbye."

Gute reise, mein freund.

Mike

2009-07-11T18:45:00.001-05:00

Mike came into the shelter with Wendy; abandoned, lonely and terrified. He seems to be the more courageous of the two, but he wasn't born with Wendy's winsome good looks. Predictably, he's still at the shelter nearly a week after his only real packmate has gone to find new friends.

Looking something like a cross between a Labrador Retriever, a German Shepherd, and possibly some kind of doggish-looking cow, Mike isn't going to win any purebred championships. But he's got a huge heart, albeit one that seems pretty badly broken at the moment. Trying to get him out the front door is a losing battle; he's terrified of the shelter's lobby, much like Wendy. Shuffling quietly out the back door, however, he gets a bit more of his courage up and cautiously sets out to find some fun.

From the time I've spent with him, Mike seems to enjoy simply walking over just about anything else. Sophie and I have started referring to him as "Shadow," because he's so glad to be near me when we walk, his nose seldom strays more than a foot or so from my side. In the play yard, he's happy to stretch his legs and explore, but likes having a friend around to reassure him.

Although I've had him out and about with both Nick and Johann with no problems at all, the past week seems to have jaded Mike's view of other dogs a little bit. Being sedentary isn't natural for a retriever or a shepherd, and spending most of his time in a kennel is definitely not his idea of a wacky, fun time - so he will occasionally announce his displeasure when I walk by with another dog. It took him long enough to realize that there was actual, positive attention to be had out there; I don't want him to conclude that it's a limited resource he has to compete for.

UPDATE (7/13): I'm quite worried for Mike tonight. Though on the receiving end of a lot of affection (not to mention a good grooming) at the hands of a fantastic new volunteer at the shelter today, he was more withdrawn and depressed this evening. He barely picked at his dinner, and I noticed just before I left that his nose was running. Hardly the end of the world normally, a little cold or a respiratory infection can be disastrous when all of your neighbors live about six feet away. Hopefully, he'll be better in the morning.

UPDATE (7/14): Mike wasn't better in the morning. At least he'll never feel abandoned again: I hope he realized he took a piece of me with him, and it kept him company on his way out.

Johann, Day One

2009-07-10T10:44:00.000-05:00

Johann's a bit of a fixer-upper, as dogs go.

An animal control officer found him living underneath a bush, and he'd been there a while, apparently. Flies had destroyed a goodly bit of his ears, his teeth were ground down to almost nothing (his canines are literally flat; no exaggeration), and his coat was a matted thatch of tangles, unshot winter fur, fleas, ticks, and blood. All in all, he was a complete wreck of a dog.

Needless to say, I fell in love with him instantly.

The first priority for me (after the staff gave him his vaccinations and parasite-control tablets) was a bath. We strolled out to the play yard, and I pulled out the bathtub. Johann only took a little coaxing, and hopped up into it himself. Round one of reclaiming the dog underneath the wreckage went well, though it broke my heart to see how badly life in the rough had treated him. Drying him off and taking him back to his kennel, I set off to work with some of the other dogs for a while.

Johann: Filthy, bloody, infested with ticks...
and thrilled to be here.

Later, we went outside and got to goof around a bit. The two of us played fetch for a good while, and he seemed glad for the chance to stretch his legs. Rotating through all of the toys at hand, it was finally decided that Johann loves the classics; nothing beats a good, old-fashioned red rubber ball in his opinion. Though not the quickest dog I've played fetch with, nor the most enthusiastic, he was certainly one of the most polite. He would chase down the ball, and more often than not, walk back and place it directly in the palm of my hand. Petting him, I cringed again inwardly. His poor skin felt like a riverbed, pebbled with bloodthirsty ticks. That can not be comfortable, I thought quietly, and tossed the ball again.

After feeding time, I made a final pass through the shelter: it's sentimental, but I enjoy a chance to say good-night to all the dogs. Passing Johann's kennel, I noticed a couple of ticks had fallen off of him and were trying to crawl away, so I grabbed a paper towel and hopped inside to dispatch and dispose of them. I nudged the big, white dog out of the way, and Johann took a wobbly few steps aside; apparently, the combination of anti-parasite measures from earlier had finally kicked in, and he was understandably a bit woozy. Looking down, I froze; and was suddenly very glad for every disgusting, gut-twisting experience I'd ever had with a tick or flea.

The floor was covered in them. Dozens (if not a couple of hundred) of bloated arachnids futilely scrambled to get away from the now-toxic dog. Sweeping them into a pile, I noted at least three generations' worth of the parasites. And by the time I had cleaned them up, another few dozen had fallen off. Looks like it's going to be a very messy, but very worthwhile night.

I'm off to the shelter now, and am eager to see how well the recovery is coming along. Although we officially don't endorse any particular brand over another, I have to give both Capstar and Frontline props; they certainly earned an A+ with a gold foil star yesterday. Regardless of brand, if you own a dog you owe it to them, yourself, and your loved ones to find a good parasite control and use it regularly. Take Johann's word for it; it's well worth the effort.

Shelley

2009-07-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, it seems like certain dogs come in and are gone again without anyone really noticing. Shelley was not large, not loud, not overly cute and not outgoing - very little to grab your attention. Most of the time, she sat in her kennel, shaking anxiously and shying away from anyone trying to interact with her. Of course, that's pretty much exactly the kind of dog that I'm drawn to.

After sitting with her a while, I decided to try taking her out with Engel; not only because I thought she'd be a good influence, though. The shelter was filling up quickly - so many new dogs and cats were being brought in or dropped off, and precious few were being reclaimed, rescued or adopted. When I had arrived that day, I had no idea that Engel was going to be rescued. All I knew was that it was her last day there, come what may. And come what may, I was determined that her last day would not be a lonely one.

The first time Engel boldly stuck her nose in Shelley's face, Shelley snarled and gave a menacing growl. I calmly told her to stop, and she did so instantly. Looking from me to the large German Shepherd and back, it took her a moment to realize that all three of us were de facto in the same "pack," and she was the youngest and newest. As soon as it "clicked" with her, she relaxed and fell in stride with us as we walked outside. The difference between "outside the pack" and "inside the pack" was so drastic with her, I honestly got a lump in my throat. Engel wasn't going to make it easy on her, though, and repaid Shelley's earlier bad attitude by merrily jumping over the shorter dog again and again as we ambled along.

After their initial rocky start, I kept a weather eye on the two dogs as we started to play. At one point, the usually shy Engel boldly strode up to Shelley and unexpectedly asserted her higher status. Even more surprising, Shelley assumed the attitude of "yep, you're the bigger dog," without any hesitation or fuss (I actually managed to catch that exchange on video). And by the time we were ready to head back inside, Shelley was timidly smiling, face-licking and wagging her tail.

I was shocked to find a couple of days later that Shelley had been put to sleep; kennel space had again become a rare commodity, and apparently she hadn't warmed up to anyone else enough to make adoption appear even a remote possibility. All in all, she'd only been there a few days, and she didn't really even make a significant impression on the majority of the people who passed through.

But I noticed.

That's the main reason for this web log. For the ones here who embark on a new life with a rescue, foster family, or a lifetime adopted pack, this is just a chapter for them in a much longer story. I cherish every footprint they leave here, make no mistake. The others, however, don't get to keep writing their stories; this is their final chapter. And no matter how the story unfolded from one animal to the next, the last line should be the same for all: "In the end, they were loved, and they will be remembered."

Wendy

2009-07-03T00:34:00.001-05:00

Abandoned.

That's what Wendy's kennel card says. Hard to imagine someone would willingly leave this beautiful, gentle animal behind, but apparently that's what happened. Walking by her kennel today, it certainly looked like she'd been thrown away: she lay in the back corner, pressed up against the wall like a discarded sweater. I couldn't get her to come to me, even with treats in hand, so I got into the kennel with her and just sat there a while, talking to her and slowly scooting closer until I could touch her. She didn't seem to mind and even gave me a couple of tail thumps, but still would not so much as stand up. When Tim showed up, he also could not coax her out, so he literally scooped her up in his arms and carried her outside.

A leash is a foreign object to her and it seemed to scare her to feel it around her neck. However, once freed of it in the play yard, with Nick there to give her encouragement, Wendy trotted around and seemed a lot more at ease. She looks to be a cross between a Weimaraner and a Retriever, and her silver fur is so soft to the touch. As far as her personality goes, at the moment she is rather impassive to what's going on around her. Naturally, she's rather confused by being in a strange place with strange dogs and people, but she seems almost more depressed than frightened.

She did arrive with one companion, a mixed-breed male who also seems meek and spends most of the time lying on his kennel floor. I'm not sure what sort of life they had before being brought here, but my guess (and this is just Sophie here speculating) is that their abandonment started long before their owner left them behind. But Wendy seems to want love. If she moves nothing else, her eyes and tail express a welcoming warmth and she trusts us to touch her, carry her, talk to her and bring her out of her kennel and out of her shell. It's been only a day since we met her and we hope so much that we can win her trust and give her reasons to be happy, knowing she'll never be abandoned again.

UPDATE: Thanks to word of mouth, and I'm pretty sure Tajana and Almir had something to do with it, Miss Wendy was rescued on 7/7. I'm sure she'll blossom in her new home! Thank you to everyone involved in spreading the word about these dogs and finding them new homes. We all love happy endings.

Nick

2009-07-02T23:25:00.000-05:00

The first time I laid eyes on Nick, my first reaction was something akin to, "American Staffordshire, huh? Yeaaaaah... We'll see about that." My skepticism was understandable - we see a lot of variations on many of the "Bull & Terrier" breeds - American Staffordshire, American Pit Bull Terrier, 'American Bully', Bull Terrier and Jack Russell Terrier. All of them are at their best a carefully standardized mutt (every domestic dog is), and at their worst a hodgepodge of unpredictable backyard-bred variables. I didn't have to wonder where on that spectrum Nick fell for long, though.

He's about as close to the "all-American dog" from the 1900's through the 1940's as I've seen a dog come - pretty much a banner carrier for all the good traits the American Staffordshire was bred for. He's by no means a small dog, and built to last. His brindle-and-white coat is quite dapper, he's got a smile to brighten the cloudiest day, and a cool disposition that holds up even under the Texas summer sun. In fact, he made such a good first impression, we've been using him as our resident "therapy dog for dogs" over the past week.

Nick hasn't been the biggest fan of games, preferring instead to walk around with us, or simply hang out in the lobby and meet people and other dogs as they come in. In fact, he seemed exemplary around children - putting up with a pair of extremely loud and rowdy boys running to and fro, and letting a flock of young girls pet, pat and glomp on him. All the while, he endeavored to be a rock of calm in a sea of chaos, and a good role-model for his less-than-bold sidekick at the time, Wendy.

In fact, Nick just seems to be a dog who wants the world to work as it should. I've seen him stand nonchalantly as a smaller dog menaced him, tell a bigger dog to back down and mind his manners, and handle frightened dogs with suprising gentleness and empathy. He even helped me usher one dog back into his kennel by gently nudging him along a few inches at a time. Not too shabby for a dog that's a bit intimidated and out of his element himself.

I wish there was a way I could take all of the frightened dogs and give them a shot of courage. In a perfect world, it would be instantaneous, painless, and infallable. In our world, though, I'm glad I at least have dogs like Nick, Engel, Remo and a genteel old spaniel named Clifford to lend a paw when others are in need. They're part of a special breed of dog - one that isn't measured by bloodlines or show-standard measurements and markings. And they're the ones that will always stay with us, in our hearts and fond memories.

Thank you all, guys. You'll never realize how awesome you really are.

UPDATE (7/8): Well, Nick is still at the shelter. And he's getting less shy, but more depressed each day. He was sneezing earlier, so I had to make a note for the vet to check for URI - better known as "kennel cough," a respiratory infection much like a cold, but for dogs. That makes him possibly ill, less outgoing, and a long-timer; quite a few strikes against him. Oh, and the proverbial "black spot" - he's a "Pit Bull" breed, so even if someone wants him, they might not be able to adopt him.

And I thought I had it bad getting up at 5am to go to work some days.

I sat with Nick for a few minutes today, and he curled up in my lap, his muzzle tucked under my elbow. Halfway joking, I rested my head and arm up on his sinewy shoulders to remind him that he might be sitting on me, but I'm still the boss. He looked at me inscrutably, then nudged my other arm underneath him so that I was hugging him (note: dogs really don't like being hugged, by the way). It was just about all I could do to keep from crying.

UPDATE (7/9): Today, a young couple came in looking for "a laid back pit bull." Tim introduced them to both Nick and another dog that fits that description, Baxter. They took both dogs out to the play yard and the pits had a lot of fun playing together and showing off for the humans present. It was a tough decision, but in the end Nick won them over. (His symptoms were simply a case of the sniffles.) He's going to be fine and we are so happy for him and his new "mom and dad." Congratulations, Nick!

Book Review: The Other End of the Leash

2009-06-30T22:18:00.000-05:00

While Tim was reading How To Speak Dog by Stanley Coren, I was immersed in this fine book by Applied Animal Behaviorist Dr. Patricia McConnell. The Other End of the Leash takes a look at not only canine behavior, but primate behavior as well, pointing out ways in which the two often conflict and how to better understand and communicate with our dogs. For instance, how often do we use our hands to point at things we want our dogs to notice or directions we want them to go, only to have poor Fido stare confusedly at our hands? Dogs point with their faces, and so looking towards the object we want our dogs to get or the direction we want them to go works best.

Another thing we primates do is hug. Nothing says love and trust like wrapping our arms around each other and pressing our hearts together. But for dogs, that can be distressing and even downright rude. Luckily for us, our pets learn to tolerate and even understand those gestures of affection. I know I still hug my puppy and he doesn't seem to mind.

Dr. McConnell has had years of experience with troubled pets and shares some of her more interesting and sometimes dangerous encounters. She also has some hilarious stories, such as her work with jockeys from various countries. She was studying how these various cultures "speak" to their horses: what sounds they use to encourage them to run and what sounds they use to slow them down. (Very enlightening, by the way.) While she conducted her research, her driver and translator was dealing drugs and trying unsuccessfully to seduce her. The sacrifices that are made in the name of science...

Her book explores subjects such as why dogs seem to love the nastiest smells but hate being spritzed with "doggie deodorants," the fallacy of "dominating" your dog rather than simply being dominant (yep, there's a big difference), how dogs play and why it's so important that they do, and why being quiet is often the best way to communicate with your canine friend.

We can't stop being humans, and certainly there's nothing wrong with that, but what comes naturally to us - repeating ourselves, talking loudly in a high pitch when excited, using our hands to pull, push, throw, grab, love and punish - often gets interpreted completely the wrong way by our best friends. This book is an eye-opener and a jolly good read. You'll come to know Dr. McConnell's own amazing animals and share laughs, heartbreak and even life-threatening suspense.

One of the most impressive things I took away from this book was just how much our dogs learn to understand "Human."

The Other End of the Leash:
Why We Do What We Do Around Dogs
Dr. Patricia B. McConnell, PhD.
Ballantine Books
isbn 034544678x
.

Tom

2009-06-26T21:17:00.000-05:00

Tom is quite a handsome gentleman, especially if you like the color red. He seems to be part red-nosed American Pit Bull Terrier, and part red Doberman. Unsurprisingly, he was brought to the shelter because of "landlord issues." I could say a lot at this point, but I'll leave it at expressing my disappointment; I try to think that we humans are made of better stuff than to stereotype a breed to extinction.

That said, if you think Dobies and Pit Bulls are predisposed to be mean or aggressive, please just move on to a fluffier entry, because Tom will severely damage your worldview.

I feel so terribly sorry for both Tom and his previous owners, because it's painfully evident how much affection was between them. Doubly so if I remember correctly that he was initially adopted from an animal shelter. My impression - after sitting for ages in his kennel with him, then coaxing him literally inches at a time out the door - is that he doesn't know what he did to wind up here, but it must have been something really, really bad. Once outside, he brightened up a lot, but was still cautious; he didn't want to do whatever it was again. Yesterday, I decided this called for some drastic action, and brought our other resident shelter-phobic, Engel, along. It turned out to be a good call.

While we walked around, Engel did her best to scout ahead of us, and Tom was content to take up the rear. He was so gentle on his lead, in fact, that I had to look back a few times to make sure he hadn't slipped his leash and wandered off. When ambling around on his own in the play yard, he was confident and relaxed (and polite to Engel the whole time). We played "tag" for a while (in the sweltering heat), and at first I thought Tom would run over me like a steam locomotive. He never did though, preferring instead to zip past me, circle around, and nudge my arm gently. Then he'd plop himself down and scratch his poor, fly-bitten ears like a puppy.

When it came time to go back inside, Tom grudgingly went back to his kennel with a bit more courage and aplomb than Engel. I sat with him a while, as a thunderstorm tried (and failed) to roil up on the horizon. He sniffed around, looking a bit unsure, and tucking his head under my arm. Tom had come a long way over the past week, from furry anchor to belly-crawling to standing tall while our dog, Rufus, climbed all over him. And today he'd walked around like a confident, affectionate sidekick. Alone in his kennel with just me and the distant thunder for company, Tom sniffed at my shoes, sidled gently up next to me, and calmly pushed me over.

After making sure I wasn't upset with him, he broke into a huge grin - as if to say, "...and THAT's for that upstart Rufus." Then he laid his head back down in my lap, and I think I understood a little bit more why he's so upset to be separated from his human friends.

UPDATE: Good ol' Tom was rescued this weekend and is going to make some lucky owner very happy! Three cheers for Tom and his valiant rescuers!

Horton

2009-06-25T23:15:00.000-05:00

Just to get it out of the way; no, we didn't name Horton. That said, I'm not 100% certain just exactly what he is. He's got a lot of Husky and German Shepherd bouncing around in there, and probably something Australian. Whatever is in him, every bit of it is young, enthusiastic, affectionate and energetic.

Horton is about 5 months old or so (like our dog, he's just lost his "puppy teeth"), and the best way I can describe his personality would be with the phrase, "latchkey puppy." He's eager to please, and wants to be someone's number one pal - it's just that no one has taught him what to do yet, so his social skills are still on a young puppy level. After a brief bit of discussion, he is finally learning to sit down when he's told to, and that it's a far superior way of getting affection than jumping up. Likewise, Horton is working on calming down and focusing his attention more (one of the many benefits of good exercise). Much as with Engel, life is exciting and fun; it's just that someone threw away the instruction manual.

Horton isn't the dog for anyone interested in a full-time couch potato. He's got the combined energy and cleverness of three breeds of working dog rolled into one, and he's not afraid to use them. He's not really ideal for someone who takes themselves far too seriously, either; he's a bit of a clown, and not in the least ashamed of it. For the right owner, however, he could be a playful, uncannily smart, devoted and fun-loving companion who is well-worth the effort to bring "up to speed" on being a dog.

NOTE: I probably have made Horton sound like some kind of Marley and Me nightmare-dog; trust me, he isn't at all. But he does have some "making up for lost time" to do in the social arena, specifically in the categories of jumping, nipping, and not focusing. The sooner he can knock out those "puppy vices," the happier he'll be (not to mention being more relaxed and confident). After that, I'm pretty sure he's got what it takes to be the star pupil in whatever he tries his paw at.

NOTE #2: I took Horton out with Sam today for a little while, and was quite impressed with how hard the little guy was trying to be good. He paid a lot more attention to me, and even sat down quicker than Sam a couple of times when I told them to do so (which may have just been lucky timing, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt). Apparently, he didn't want to look like too much of an idiot while standing next to the brainy, go-getter dog. Of course, when we all went out later in the afternoon, both Sam and Horton had worked up a first-class case of the ol' kennel stir-crazies and all bets were off. Regardless, a fun time was had by all.

UPDATE: Horton was rescued on June 29th and we hope to hear he's found a forever home soon. He's an awesome dog!

Engel (Angel v2.0)

2009-06-24T22:27:00.000-05:00

In all honesty, there are a great many days when I doubt myself and the work I do at the shelter. Sometimes, I just can't find what a dog needs to give them that extra bit of courage, or discipline, or whatever else it is that makes them shine before time runs out, things get overcrowded, and they're gone forever. Although things have slowed down a bit for now, there are a couple of dogs I still worry about when I work with them. One of these is a beautiful but extremely frightened shepherd Sophie and I call "Engel," though she's listed as "Angel" officially. (She came in while the first Angel was still there.)

I have to admit, Engel touches on many things I find attractive in German Shepherds; she's tall and leggy, a bit shaggy (though not long-haired), and has a beautiful romanesque nose. Even moreso than all of that though, I love her personality. She doesn't fawn and face-lick like most insecure dogs, nor does she shy away; there seems to be a gentle steadiness to her and a heartfelt warmth, even through her fear.

Engel is certainly not going to break many speed records from the kennel to the front door. She's very cautious with people she doesn't know, and frightened to death of the walk to the shelter's lobby. I'm guessing it could involve feeling abandoned, since her previous owner brought her in. Once she's outside, though, she forgets her troubles and relaxes.

It seems to me a bit odd, but Engel doesn't really seem to have learned anything you'd expect a German Shepherd to have picked up by her age. She came in with a swanky martingale collar, but doesn't really follow on her leash (she doesn't pull hard either though, and comes back to you if she notices you've stopped). Fetch is a foreign language, and she seems to know that it involves a ball, and you throw it, then you look at her expectantly. Honestly, the only things she seems to have learned well thus far are "come," "sit" and "lie down." She seems akin to a classic Porsche 928 that's only been driven to the corner grocery store on weekends. So much potential, so little time to get her courage up.

UPDATE: Fraulein Engel is about to embark on a trip to New York courtesy of Bright Star GSD Rescue in Rochester. They couldn't have come at a better time, and I don't think I could have recommended a better gal. She's being treated for a mild heartworm infestation, then trekking northward for her new life. Good luck, sweetheart!

Sam

2009-06-23T00:58:00.000-05:00

Sam is a rather complicated dog, which is not at all surprising for her breed; Australian Cattle Dogs (also called Red or Blue Heelers, depending on color) are often an enigmatic bundle of seemingly contradictory traits. Energetic yet focused, cautious but friendly, authoritative though submissive... all of these things shine in Sam.

We took her to an adoption event last Saturday with Shakota, an Australian Shepherd (and Sam's current kennel-mate). Sam was a terrific copilot on the ride both to and from the event, and did an admirable job of behaving herself while we were there. It should be noted that Heelers aren't often comfortable around large groups of people, and Sam was not immune to this trait - Cattle Dogs have a natural herding instinct, and the poor girl was feverishly trying to keep track of literally every dog, cat and human at the crowded shopping mall.

At one point, she and I were sitting with Sophie and Shakota, watching the people pass by. Sam quietly turned, nudged me and indicated that she wanted to go outside. So the four of us gathered ourselves and headed out the door, where it turned out that Shakota - not Sam - was needing to go to the bathroom. We thought it was just a coincidence, but the same thing happened a second time before we left for the day. Sam was simply that much better at reading her kennel mate's body language, and seemed to know that little Shakota was too darned polite to impose on us herself.

There are a lot of personality "quirks" that Australian Cattle Dogs are noted for, and Sam seems to hold true to many of them. She isn't the quickest to warm up to strangers or other dogs, preferring quality of friendship over quantity. Once someone is "in" with her or her pack, though, Sam will do her best to make them feel welcome and cared-for. Large groups of people or animals both fascinate and daunt her a bit, since she feels she needs to keep an eye on everything around - in case she'll be called on to herd sheep, cats, kids, or anything else you need managed.

Sam's a dog of few needs, and those she has are pretty basic. She'll need exercise and things to do; she's smart and active, and wants to stretch her brain as much as her legs. (In fact, if someone has an Aussie Shepherd, Cattle Dog, or other working dog with behavior problems, "chronic boredom" is quite often at the root of it.) She'll need some "quiet time" with her friends and family every now and then (remember the "quality over quantity" comment?) to take a breather from the bustle of the crowd. And above all, she'll need people she can give her best to.

UPDATE: Sam was adopted today (June 27), and it looks like her new family will be just about perfect for her.

Shakota

2009-06-22T19:49:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure that these photos can do justice to Shakota - it's difficult to capture in images or words the warmth and affectionate personality of this gal. She's about three years old, having worked most of the "puppy frenzy" out of her system, and is just starting to reach that point where many dogs learn to appreciate the finer things in life; things such as the good friends around them.

We took Shakota and her kennel-mate Sam to an adoption event this weekend. It was inside a bustling shopping mall, and she handled herself beautifully. Most of the time, she just sat around with Sophie and enjoyed getting mugged on by happy children and their parents (and a dog or two as well). As long as you discount that one time when Carlisle, a 6-month old bundle of reckless happy enthusiasm, stepped on her face. She complained about that kind of mugging a little bit, obviously.

Shakota isn't the most demanding or assertive of dogs by any stretch. In fact, most of the time she took her cues from Sam, or from us. Not one to pull on her leash or cause a fuss in the car, she's easily one of the most gentle dogs we've run across. Likewise, she's not really interested in status, or bossing others around. For Shakota, food, comfort and affection are the wellsprings of happiness in life, and take second place only to the company of her friends.

UPDATE: I found out today that sweet ol' Shakota tested positive for heartworms (meaning she'll need a rescue group to foster her while she's healing up). Although I'm worried about her, there's no reason she can't pull through just fine with a little help. Here's hoping she'll be back at 100% soon, sharing the joy of living with everyone she knows.

UPDATE: Shakota was picked up by a foster family today who will work with her through (I believe they said) about 6 weeks of treatment to make sure she's heartworm-free once again. I'll try to keep things updated as she gets closer to looking for her permanent home.

Opinion Time: "Guard Dogs"

2009-06-21T00:03:00.000-05:00

There are a few things that we encounter while volunteering at an animal shelter that I have very strong opinions about. Although they're just personal opinions and observations, hopefully they'll give you things to think about without my being too annoying.

Few statements get to me quite like the old chestnut, "I'm looking for a guard dog."

Let me explain what that phrase translates to in extended English: "I'm looking for a dog that I can treat like it's a piece of furniture, ignore, yell at, incite to be aggressive, then return it to the shelter when it bites me/my kid/my neighbor's kid/my neighbor's dog/etc. Then it will have to be euthanized because it's too hostile and volatile to trust around people or animals."

A bit harsh? Absolutely. True? Far too often.

If you feel that you need extra protection around the house, a dog can be a great assistant. They've been helping keep humans safe for about 14,000 years thus far. If you want a non-stop, low-maintenance anti-intruder device, though, I'd strongly recommend a burglar alarm system. If you want something to be a lawn decoration to keep ne'er-do-wells away, build a scarecrow. If you want a devoted member of your "pack" or family who will put themselves between you and potential danger, stop thinking it has to be a "guard dog". That's a frequent mistake.

A few of the exceptional "dog guardians" I've known. Not the fiercest-looking bunch.

My favorite recommendation to someone looking for a "guard dog" isn't a Pit Bull Terrier or a German Shepherd. It's not a Doberman Pinscher or a Rottweiler (though they are all great breeds of dog). It's the humble, strong - and extremely friendly - Labrador Retriever. Seems an odd choice? It isn't, and I'll explain my logic.

Labs are, as a breed, famous for being devoted family dogs. Their affection runs deep, and their temperament is usually quite forgiving. If someone is thinking they need exclusively a "guard dog," there's a good chance that there's a feeling of insecurity; specifically, one that will subtly show when interacting with the dog (especially if security is the main reason for having the dog). Dogs often pick up on that, as subtle as it may be, and possibly read it as reticence to be the alpha of the pack. One quality shared by popular "guard dog" breeds such as Shepherds, Bulldogs, etc., is an above-average sense of independence and responsibility; if they think it's necessary, they will step in as pack leader. (Seen a lot of "out-of-control" dogs? Odds are it's the opposite, and they're "in-control" dogs.) More companion-oriented breeds (such as retrievers) are much more likely to encourage their alpha instead of replacing them outright.

Even more integral to the security equation is how you interact with your dog. A dog will protect you and your home if it feels it must, true. Fear of repercussions and a sense of duty will carry them far, but potentially leave them socially stunted. Back to the "Labrador factor." They aren't famous for their ferocity, but people wax poetic about their love, adoration and devotion to their family and friends. At one point, I temporarily fostered an 80-pound black lab. The first day he was at my house, we played fetch, ran around, and just generally did fun "dog-and-human" things. When I came home the next day, he heard my car pull up and footsteps approaching the gate. Believe me, I would not have wanted to be a stranger; Ajax instantly turned into an 80-pound barricade of teeth and muscle. And as soon as he saw that it was me? Back into the unstoppable fetching fiend, all slobber and admiration. When I was growing up, my Irish Setter, Red, was exactly the same; nothing but affection until someone threatened his family. Even Remo, who only stands about 18 inches tall, threw himself between me and an aggressive Bulldog without hesitating.

I've seen dogs be aggressive. And I've seen dogs be protective. There's no contest.

Trixie

2009-06-19T00:28:00.001-05:00

When Trixie first came in, she was so frightened I didn't even notice the wound on her back - and that's not an easy thing to miss, believe me. The poor girl had been clipped by a car, and injured so badly that she might never walk again without the aid of a wheelchair (yes, they actually do make wheelchairs for dogs, as novel of an idea as it seems). I'm hoping she will be able to have a much fuller recovery (though it doesn't look extremely promising), and if any dog has what it takes, I would bet Trixie does.

I spent a while today just cradling her head in my hands, talking to her. She was so very frightened and uncomfortable, she shook like a leaf in a thunderstorm. When I went to refill her water dish, I returned to find that Trixie had picked herself up and was waiting dutifully at the door of her kennel for my return. After helping her get a drink, I gently returned her to her bed. I've seen a lot of brave animals and strong animals, but that six-inch odyssey of hers left me quite humbled.

Due to the nature of her injury, Trixie is available only to a rescue group. I'm hoping that someone is able to step in and help provide her the medical care she needs; she'll provide her own courage.

UPDATE: Trixie was picked up this morning by the appropriately-named Hope from All-Texas Dachshund Rescue, and they even had a vet who works with them stay after-hours to check her out! I'm thrilled that she's in such good (and capable) hands, and hope to hear more about her as she recovers.

UPDATE pt2: I received an e-mail from Hope at ATDR, and there's some fantastic news! The vet X-rayed Trixie's injury, and found some severe "trauma" - but amazingly, nothing broken. After a few days of strict crate-rest and steroids to boost her body's own healing ability, she was able to stand up on all four feet. Though she's far from out of the woods yet, her prognosis looks very hopeful!

A Quick Note: Shelter Diaries doesn't advocate any one shelter/rescue group/foster group over another. We do, however, believe wholeheartedly in finding an organization that rings true to you, and doing what you can to help them out. Doing "the right thing" is often a thankless, difficult and daunting task - as well as a drain on resources both tangible and innate. It's easy to lose ourselves in the drama unfolding around the four-legged animals we share our world with, and forget the two-legged animals who step up to champion for them.

Shasta

2009-06-17T21:10:00.000-05:00

I don't normally think of Chows as being black; my experience has mostly been with red ones like Harlan. In fact, the only black Chow I've ever had any prolonged dealings with was a much-less-than-friendly neighborhood bully who lived downstairs from me many years ago. Shasta, probably a Chow/Border Collie or Shepherd mix of some type, falls about as far from that as a dog can.

When we first met, I wasn't sure what to make of her. She was frightened and uncertain, and wrinkled her nose oddly when she sniffed my hand (I later realized that her nose just does that). I had to pick Shasta up and carry her outside because she was so afraid; but after getting the feel of grass under her feet, she did a complete turn-around. Inquisitive, adventurous and affectionate - a far cry from the shivering, cowering bundle of fur in her kennel.

Shasta's a girl who knows just what she wants, too. When I had to run out to my car to look for some kitten-feeding supplies, she vaulted up into the car, hopped over to the passenger seat, and curled up in anticipation of a road-trip adventure. And when it was time to go back to her kennel, she sprawled on the floor in protest. I picked her up, and she wrapped her front paws around my neck, licking my cheek imploringly. She hammed her way dramatically all the way to her door, where she calmly hopped down for a drink of water. I half expected her to take a bow.

UPDATE: Shasta got to take that road-trip today when she was reunited with her owner. We're so very glad that she found her way back home!

Alice

2009-06-16T21:15:00.001-05:00

This is Alice. She's a happy girl when she's out and about with her friends or when you hop into her kennel with her for some cuddling. She's not picky so long as she's getting pets and stritches. She's been overlooked for some time now, though. She's not especially barky or jumpy although once she has your attention, she will cling to you or press up against you, grateful for the physical comfort of your warmth and touch. Alice has a beautiful smile, doesn't she?

She seems to like everyone, and her clean, pretty coat makes me think she used to be someone's pet. She does know the game "fetch" but it was so hot today, she only brought me the ball once and then wanted no more of that. The rest of our time together was spent sitting in her kennel, watching people and dogs go by and enjoying some snuggles and petting. She has a great head for kissing too. Nice and broad with that Staffordshire dip in the middle. She would make a great pal. She's just waiting to be noticed.

UPDATE: Our little sweetheart was put to sleep June 19. Sleep well, Alice. Miss you...

Angel

2009-06-15T19:39:00.000-05:00

When Angel first came in, I didn't really even have time to sit down with her - I just brought her some food and water, and was off again. I later came back, and it took quite a while to get her courage up. Having recently been pregnant, Angel's belly and teats were still swollen, and she was confused and uncertain. She's still a bit intimidated by her rapid change of surroundings today, though after taking her out the first time, it wasn't difficult to see why.

Tugging and pulling on her leash, Angel seemed to have no interest in me at all. She dove from place to place, planting her nose to the ground and looking around frantically. Especially under things. Tables, cars, trailers... and then it hit me with a sudden tightness in my gut. She doesn't know where her puppies are. The first three times we took her out, we helped her look around, knowing full well that they weren't anywhere to be found, but hoping the effort would make her feel better. She certainly seemed to appreciate it, and she's calmed down quite a bit.

Of course, "calm" is a relative term. Though understandably slow to trust strangers, Angel absolutely loves to run and explore, and is certainly looking for a person who shares her adventurous, energetic spirit. She is smart and seems to enjoy being challenged mentally, which is a common trait in shepherds - she'd quite probably have a grand time playing games, or learning tricks once her "need for speed" has been sated.

UPDATE: Angel was put to sleep on June 19. I'm really going to miss your out-of-breath grin, and your curious face popping up over the edge of your kennel wall. You were a great gal.

Technical Note, and a Rant

2009-06-14T20:59:00.000-05:00

Just a quick mention about some of the images on here:

We upgraded our Fotki account to a paid one yesterday - that's the good news.
Some of the images on the Shelter Diaries web log aren't showing up properly now - that's the... well, not so good news.

I'll keep an eye out over the next few days to see if things smooth out. If not, I'll think of some clever, overcomplicated "Plan B".

Also, I wanted to mention one thing specifically to the rescue groups that are bending the very fabric of space and time to sweep some of these (and so many other) animals out of certain doom and into someone's life. If you are sponsoring any animal appearing in our blog or gallery, you are welcome to use our images to help get them to the homes that they deserve.*

Well, I wanted to mention that, and the fact that you guys are big ol' heroes, every last one of you.

*NOTE: The photos we take are most certainly not intended to be used in the context of some of the libelous, hateful campaigns that well-meaning yet misguided people have been indulging in against various shelters and rescues, and the people involved in them. We volunteer at a "kill shelter," and applaud the efforts of the folks who break their own hearts day after day for the chance to save as many cast-off, "undesireable," abused, and otherwise forsaken animals as they can. Shelter Diaries most certainly will not take it lightly if you try to use our hard work against them.

Also, if you crosspost our blog entries, we humbly ask that you include the entire text of the entries; we love all of these animals like they were our own, but it is both dishonest and (in the end) potentially harmful to the animals and adoptors to 'sugar-coat' the rough edges of their personalities. Adoptions are relationships, not products. Thank you all, and let's keep on trying to make these animals proud of us.

--Tim

Book Review - Shelter Stories

2009-06-14T19:40:00.000-05:00

For a long time now, Sophie has been a big fan of the comic strip Mutts by Patrick McDonnell. First penned in 1994, it follows a cast of loveable, furry personalities reflecting on life, and the unique dynamic between man and nature (especially the four-legged variety of nature).

In Shelter Stories, McDonnell compiles a selection of strips inspired by his work with the Humane Society of the United States and the stories of various animals he's encountered, as well as the people who have taken them into their lives. Interspersed with the always funny, often poigniant comics, Shelter Stories also includes real-life vignettes of adopted animals and their people.

Though it's definitely light reading, there's a lot of depth to McDonnell's work. People who work with animals - especially those in shelters, rescues, and such - will find many of the characters and sentiments hauntingly familiar. Some will make you laugh, some will make you cry... But all of them will leave you smiling and remembering why it's important that we all pitch in and do what we can to help those who are lost, forgotten, cast aside, or just overlooked.

Mutts: Shelter Stories
by Patrick McDonnell
Andrews McMeel Publishing LLC, $16.99
ISBN: 9780740771156

Mutts official website: www.muttscomics.com
(all images copyright © Patrick McDonnell)

Minerva

2009-06-14T00:57:00.001-05:00

Poor Minerva became available today at the shelter, and she's already on the list of dogs needing "urgent attention". It's quite understandable - she arrived with a broken back leg, and really needs osteopathic veterinary care right away. I have no idea how much it would cost to get her back on all four feet, but I'm certain it isn't trivial or cheap.

I must confess a very soft spot in my heart for Minerva - in both the looks and personality categories, she could easily be Buddy's little sister. On top of that, I've had a couple of broken bones myself, and can easily empathize with all the discomfort, annoyance and worry she's feeling. Every time I see her though, she hops up and teeters on her three good legs, wagging her tail for all it's worth. Her cup is running over with affection and unabashed gratitude.

Due to the nature of her injury, Minerva can only be released to a rescue group. Hopefully, someone will be able to work something out - if she's this sweet with a broken leg, I can only imagine what she'd be like with all four paws on the ground.

UPDATE: Miss Minerva was rescued on June 16. Here's to a speedy recovery for our sweet girl! Good luck, Minnie!

Cy, the One-Eyed

2009-06-13T23:26:00.000-05:00

Little Cy caught my eye (no pun intended) while waiting for his vaccinations. I was smitten with his happy grin, wagging tail, and youthful enthusiasm. He was squinting one eye at me, though, and I checked to see if it was injured or had something in it. Upon closer inspection, I found that Cy appears to be missing his left eye altogether.

That doesn't seem to slow him down much, though; he's fearless and adventuresome. I'm not even sure if he can see out of his right eye, or if he's blind or nearsighted. What he lacks in the visual department, he does a good job of making up for with his ears and nose - which makes it a little bit tricky to tell if he can see where you're going, or if he's just following you by scent or sound. He'll navigate hallways and obstacles with grace and ease, then bump headfirst into his water bucket. Cy's tapetum lucidum - a lens-like membrane in the eye that enhances night vision - looks a bit more reflective than normal, which might be significant. It could indicate blindness in that eye, or it might effect his ability to see in certain lighting... I'm no expert on such things, so I'm in the dark, if you'll pardon the expression.

Aside from needing a good vet to check him out, little Cy could use a fair amount of interaction with people and other dogs. He seems to have been pretty much on his own for most of the first four months of his life, and appears to have missed out on a lot of the "puppy experience." He won't grow up to be a small dog by any stretch of the imagination, so he'll need to be taught to be calm, gentle, and polite (important things for all puppies to be taught, and doubly so in larger breeds).

One outstanding thing that happened today won him my sincere admiration. We were walking together, and passed Sam's kennel on Cy's "blind side". Sam dropped into his best awkward "play bow" and began barking like crazy. Instead of bristling at him, like I've grown used to seeing the other dogs do, Cy turned, bowed back, and bounced around yipping his best, "Yeah! Let's go play!" in reply. Come what may, I'll always remember Cy as the one dog that won't let appearances deceive him.

UPDATE: Cy was rescued on June 16th. Hopefully he will soon be in his new forever home. Good boy, Cybernator!

Marla

2009-06-12T19:52:00.001-05:00

Marla is a bit of a dog of mystery. She's big and fluffy, and we're not quite certain yet if she gets her looks from Malamute, Shiloh Shepherd, Husky, or any of a number of "wolf-like" working dogs. She keeps her kennel quite clean (except at mealtime, when it's a big game of "flip the dish and watch that food roll" at times), leads on her leash but doesn't pull, and is generally affable and gentle.

Like Maggie and Romney, Marla seems to be one of those dogs that gives whatever she gets, be it affection or indifference. She's very observant, too - picking up on subtle body language, both in people and dogs. When I approached her kennel today, she barely reacted to my greeting of "Hey there, girl." But a quick glance at her and a jerk of my head toward her door had Marla on her feet and ready to go. On her leash, she appeared to be quietly patrolling our route, zig-zagging steadily to and fro as she moved.

Our mystery girl is also apparently as used to communicating as quietly as she listens. When approached by a boy with a playful puppy, I gently rested a hand on Marla's back, and she quickly sat down and waited for the little tyke to approach (she waited patiently for the boy, too). Layla, the puppy, jumped around and mugged on her, and instead of eating her, Marla dropped down onto her belly to be less threatening and more "puppy height." After Layla departed with her new family (congratulations, girl!), I leaned my head against Marla's and gave her a big hug. After a few seconds, she soundlessly shrugged and backed up a step to let me know that was enough glomping for one day. We'll have a great time getting to know more about this girl, I think.

UPDATE: Marla was rescued on June 16th, and it looks like if all goes well, she'll have a new forever home and family by the end of the week. We've got our fingers crossed for you, Sugar!

UPDATE 2: June 29th-- Marla was taken to her new forever home where she is already bestest friends with a sweet and smart 6 year old little girl. We could not be happier for her or for her new family!

Bernie

2009-06-10T22:10:00.001-05:00

It's odd how people typecast certain breeds of dog: Rottweilers are "bad," Doberman Pinschers are "mean," Chihuahuas are "sweet," etc. I've even heard people describe German Shepherds as "furry time-bombs, who all turn on their masters." Most people who have owned a dog from a much-maligned breed are probably rolling their eyes by this point, because that kind of predjudice is so prevalent, and often so far off the mark. (Bet you didn't know that our 4-month-old puppy, Rufus, was "scary" and "mean" - we sure didn't until someone told me so. Rufus still hasn't figured out that he is.)

Well, Bernie wants to set the record straight on all the bad press that the American Pit Bull Terrier has been getting of late. He's friendly, polite, affectionate and eager to please. I approached his kennel yesterday, and he was so happy to see me he began hopping up in the air like an excited terrier (which, as the name "Pit Bull Terrier" suggests, isn't much of a stretch). I got to his door, and he greeted me with a tail wag so vigorous it shook his whole body. He sat for me to put his leash on, and waited excitedly - but not even once did he try to jump up on me.

So next we went outside. Bernie sometimes pulled on his leash a little, or began to dash in the direction of something fascinating, but always returned to my side when I reminded him we were walking together. Walking around on his own in the play yard, he wasn't too clingy nor too distant. He just seemed happy. Bernie decided it was time to head back in when one of the Animal Control officers pulled up and parked nearby. He wasn't afraid or intimidated, mind you; he just really wanted to go over and say hello, and make sure the officer had received his daily quota of tail wags.

Bernie didn't really want to go back into his kennel, but acquiesced so I could go and feed everyone. Apparently, food is another great love of his (having seen him tuck in for a meal).

NOTE: I will try to have more/better photos of Bernie tomorrow, weather permitting. Today, I was petting him and he yelped twice when I ruffled his right ear - he might have an injury that doesn't show readily, or he might just be shy about his ears. Regardless, he was very composed and non-aggressive when it happened, which is a very good thing. And I'll try to follow his cue, and not ruffle his ears anymore.

UPDATE: Bernie had an afternoon of walking, being held, kissed, sung to and even got to try and curl his long body on Sophie's lap while he took a brief nap. He was showing signs of illness and was euthanized this evening. He went for his last walk with his tail wagging and knowing he was important and that somebody loved him very much.

Leeza

2009-06-10T13:08:00.000-05:00

When you first walk up to Leeza's kennel, you are greeted by a great big soulful face and a perhaps a polite sniff. If you're especially lucky, she might lick your fingertips. She knows she's a big girl and so she is very gentle with others. Open her kennel to take her out and she'll duck her head into the leash for you and walk close by, never dragging you along or bolting away. She passes by other kennels and sniffs at those who want to greet her and ignores those who act unfriendly. She's especially keen to meet any humans in the area and approaches calmly and politely. She seems to have had a litter or two in the past and maybe it's the "mom" in her coming out but she just seems to treat all life around her with such gentleness and care. I have never seen her growl or bark or bristle at anyone or anything in the time I've spent with her.

When I took her out to the play yard, I expected her to sniff about, maybe stretch her legs with a brief trot and not much else. She just seemed like such a grand dame. I took some photos of her but everytime I got down to her level for a low-angle shot, she came over to me to see what was going on. I decided to toss a ball to see if at least she'd go investigate and I could get a photo of her from a distance. I threw the ball.

She was all over that ball! What's more, she brought it over to me and let me take it from her without fuss. I sat down on the doghouse at one point and she put her front paws up beside me, acting like she wanted up. I climbed up to see if she'd follow. She hopped right up on top of the doghouse with me, decided that was boring and leapt down again as graceful as a deer. She's a kid at heart and such a sweet, sweet dog. Anyone who loves big dogs will fall head over heels in love with Leeza. She is just such a good girl. She was never rough or boisterous and when it came time to go inside, she stood patiently for me to get her leash back on her and then walked right inside to the first open kennel she saw and went in. It wasn't her kennel, however, so I took her around to her "room" in the back of the main dog area. She went inside just as nice as you please and sat while I removed her leash and moved her water bucket. I would say she is definitely housetrained and probably crate/kennel trained as well. A lot of dogs struggle when you try to put them back into their kennels or turn and bolt the minute the door is opened. I left Leeza's kennel door open while I did her leash and water and she just sat on the floor, waiting for me to finish. Like I said, she is a good, sweet girl and if you have a heart and home big enough for her, she'll make an excellent best friend.

UPDATE: (by Tim) Like Sophie yesterday, I took Leeza out and about today. She really is a fantastic dog; hardly pulled on her leash, behaved admirably in a chaotic room full of puppies (both canine and human), and indulged my shutterbugging getting in the way of a terrific game of fetch. Tomorrow, the remainder of her past 3 or so winter coats must be brushed out of her fur. She'll probably appreciate that.

It was a warm and sunny day, so we didn't get to play around as long as we wanted. Leeza's still rehydrating herself, and though she never complained, I didn't want to overheat her. She politely let me know when she wanted to call it a day by bringing the ball to me, pausing, then taking it to the gate and waiting for her leash. Like Sophie said earlier, Leeza's a graceful, polite, gentle and dignified dog. Obviously.

UPDATE: Leeza left the shelter today, riding co-pilot with two other dogs (Rocky and Rambo, and no, they're not related) bound for a rescue group with a great knack for working with large breeds of dog. We're sure she'll brighten up her foster family's lives until she finds a permanent home, and we'll try to get a link to her rescuers.

Sam

2009-06-08T23:18:00.000-05:00

The first time I saw Sam, he was sitting patiently in the hallway while a kennel was being cleaned up for him. I could tell right away that he was a freindly guy, and smart as well. He's waiting for his adoptable date right now (June 10th), and it can't come soon enough - the little gent has gone from excited to terrified, and is now acting a bit shy and depressed. In his circumstances, it's pretty forgivable.

Sam is curious and outgoing toward other animals, but has a major social handicap: his ears, or more precisely, lack thereof. A lot of people have their dogs' ears cropped, for various reasons. Many of them just want their dog "to look tough," which is a real shame in my opinion. And they don't take into consideration that a canine's ears are a major tool in communication with other dogs - the more they take off, the less they can express. Without cues from the ears, it becomes much more difficult to tell aggression from fear or submissiveness. Basically, it's like trying to communicate with someone who can't make facial expressions. Sam, sadly, has had his ears not so much cropped as removed. It probably caused him considerable pain and discomfort at the time, but now it's mostly just confusion as to why no one seems to understand him anymore. Even Remo didn't trust him at first, and it broke my heart when my pal tried to warn off the "mean stranger dog" walking with me.

Fortunately, Remo seemed a lot more relaxed with Sam around today, having had a night to talk things out. Although they're not the first things entering a conversation, Sam still has a wagging tail and a sappy, affectionate grin. What he really needs now is someone who will take the time to get to know him, and teach him to take his time when he meets others, too. Of course, they'll need to be able to withstand massive amounts of affection, as well - Sam's got a lot of it to share.

UPDATE: Sam and I went for a walk today, and spent a grand time just hanging out with some of the other folks helping at the shelter. The gate to the exercise yard suffered a broken hinge sometime yesterday, so instead of running amok we went inside and offered some encouragement to young Minerva (who will hopefully be picked up by a rescue group tomorrow). A short time later, Sam was put to sleep. He went out knowing that he had friends, and that he was well-loved.

Anne

2009-06-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

Anne is one of the many dogs that became adoptable today - and she wanted everybody to know it. From the moment I arrived, she was barking to get my attention. As soon as I walked up to her kennel, though, she sat quietly and intently, waiting for me to take her out.

For a grown-up lab, she's still got all the puppy enthusiasm that comes with her breed; which is probably why she wound up at the shelter in the first place. I've been told that she can hop a six-foot fence if she wants to, and I'd believe it. She's athletic and graceful, despite being a tad overweight, which suggests she may have been either kept indoors too much or left alone too much. Labradors are both athletes and devoted companions, and without enough action or interaction, can get a bit "stir crazy."

That said, I had no trouble with her when we went out to play. Anne usually came to me when I called, and often tucked her head under my hand when she did, prompting me for some affection. She loves walking and exploring a lot, and would likely make a good exercise partner. Unfortunately, she lost a bit of her "Labrador cred" with me when I found out she's lousy at fetch (how can such a thing be?). It looks like what Anne really needs is some good parenting, some physically and mentally active play, and a loving, structured family to be a part of.

UPDATE: Anne was euthanized June 15th. I owe you a lot of thanks, especially for just running around and hanging out with me this past week. I'll miss you, girl.

Buddy

2009-06-07T21:53:00.001-05:00

Volunteering at a shelter, one sees a lot of different - sometimes even unusual (see Remo) - crossbreeds of dog. Pit Bull Terriers are very popular, as are Labrador Retrievers; it's kind of a given that a lot of unexpected Lab/Pit mixes land on our doorstep. One such dog is Buddy.

His short, velveteen coat, white socks, and hardy physique are all praiseworthy traits of the American Pit Bull. His personality, on the other hand, seems to be that of a chocolate (brown) Labrador. It's a certain combination of playful, friendly, enthusiastic, and considerate that I've seen in several brown labs, and unlike just about any other breed I've worked with.

When I took Buddy out to try and get some photos, I wound up with a whole series of close-ups. He just wouldn't leave my side long enough to snap a picture. And it's difficult to write anything about him that doesn't sound like waxing poetic, because it seems like he's just an all-around good dog. If he received one bad trait from his Labrador genes, it would be his urge to jump up when he's happy and excited. It shows that Buddy came from a home with a lot of animals, too; he seems eager to meet everyone that comes by his kennel, human and canine alike.

UPDATE: Buddy's prospective adoptor from this weekend didn't show back up today, sadly. I'll try to follow Buddy's example and stay optimistic and upbeat, though.

UPDATE: Buddy ran out of time today. He was his happy, loving self to the end and the world's a little less sparkling without him. Our memories of him are full of his clowning around and exuberant affection.

Book Review - How to Speak Dog

2009-06-07T18:59:00.001-05:00

If you remember watching Rin Tin Tin or Lassie when you were young, you've probably found yourself wishing that you could converse with your dog like they do on TV and in the movies. Well, unfortunately, that kind of communication just doesn't happen - but Stanley Coren's How to Speak Dog might help you get closer to that point than you thought possible.

It's amazing just how much dogs communicate to us. It's even more staggering how much of that we misinterpret, or just don't notice at all. For instance, "dog kisses" (when they lick your face or hand) can mean several things, ranging from "You're a swell pack leader, chief!" to "I'm hungry!" to "I reeeeeally gotta' use the bathroom." A bark can have a multitude of meanings, from "Intruders are nearby!" to "Let's play!" Even something as subtle as a shifting of the ears or tail can have meaning in a dog's language.

Mr. Coren looks at all of these interplaying signals and vocalizations with the keen eye of a behavioral psychologist, the writing skill of a seasoned author, and the empathy of a dog owner. The first part of the book deals mainly with how we communicate with dogs - what they hear, what they understand, and how they interpret it. Then Coren turns things around, looking at how dogs communicate with us. Dogs have limited vocal ability, so their 'language' has expanded to incorporate body language, scents, and sounds. He even looks at the differences between the visual signals of dogs and cats, giving new insight into what seems an age-old rivalry.

I think this is a great book for anyone who owns or works with dogs - doubly so for folks who deal with unfamiliar ones. It's certainly given me a lot to think about and consider, especially when it comes to understanding what I might be inadvertantly saying to a dog. A little mindful awareness can often diffuse an awkward - and even potentially dangerous - misunderstanding.

How to Speak Dog
by Stanley Coren
Published by Simon & Schuster / Free Press $14.00
ISBN 978074320297

Romney

2009-06-06T21:37:00.000-05:00

While reading up on bulldog breeds the other day, I read that Bull Terriers are usually either wonderful or horrible - not much falling in the middle ground. So I was naturally a bit concerned with Romney, the ringleader of a threesome of strays that made their way into the shelter. He seemed fearless - even bossing around a boxer twice his size - making me worry he fell into the latter category. Over the past two days, though, he's staunchly proven my concern unnecessary.

Romney isn't a big fan of cats or other small animals, which is natural for most terrier breeds - originally bred to hunt small animals. When it comes to dogs, Romney seems curious and affable. He'll sniff around and gladly meet other animals, but woe betide the schmoe who tries to bully him around or bogart his food dish while he's dining. All the same, he'll eat out of your hand graciously.

Although we haven't had him out and about with other male dogs (Bull Terriers aren't famous for playing well with others, so we'll try to check on that), he had a great time palling around with Freya (see earlier post). And after a very short while, the playful, fun nature of the breed bubbled to the surface in him. He very much likes his toys extra-durable, and his people extra-happy.

UPDATE: Took Romney and Remo out for some playtime together today. Although there was an ongoing game of "I'm the big dog" between them (which is hilarious, given that they both stand about a foot tall), it seemed very good-natured and playful. They walked around together, racing each other over to me anytime it looked like there was some affection to be had. At one point, Romney even leaned over and gave Remo a cursory lick on the side of the nose, as if to say, "Eh, you're pretty OK, kid."

UPDATE: Thanks to the hard work of some amazing rescue and volunteer folks, Romney got himself a family all his own. He was neutered yesterday, and came out of the surgery happy, energetic, and hungry; his new family came and picked up their new best pal today. Here's lookin' at you, kid!

Freya

2009-06-06T21:01:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, things move pretty fast and furious at the shelter - for example, one night last week saw twelve dogs dropped off between closing and opening the next day. And occasionally, little things get mixed up in the shuffle; on her original card yesterday, Freya was listed as "Franz," a male German Shepherd.

Of course, when "Franz" got to go out and play today, we noticed that something was odd, and got Freya all straightened out. She came in as a stray, so she's hoping her owner will come in and pick her up soon. Otherwise, she'll try and find a new family on June 10. Whoever winds up taking her home, they'll get quite a friendly dog.

As she ambled around with Romney, another dog at the shelter, I noticed that Freya seemed a little bit unsteady. It's possible that she has an injured back leg, or possibly even a touch of hip displasia (odd for a dog as young as Freya). She's underfed and fly-bitten around the ears, though, so not having her "land legs" isn't much of a surprise at the moment. Over the next few days, we'll be keeping an eye on her, and seeing if some good food and gentle exercise help smooth things out. That aside, young Freya is gentle and friendly, despite being obviously intimidated by her surroundings. Of course, I might just be biased, because she reminds me a bit of my family's first dog, a beautiful, gentle - and very huggable - shepherd.

UPDATE: Freya's limp had pretty much cleared up by the 9th, and on the 10th she was adopted by someone who I think had fallen for her the day she came in.

Lloyd

2009-06-06T20:44:00.000-05:00

We've all heard the expression "herding cats" to describe something nearly impossible. Well, photographing one as adventurous and energetic as Lloyd comes a close second. The world is a very interesting place and Lloyd, a 5 year old cat, is going to see it all, if only he can get out of here. He's a hunter who'll keep any bug problems at bay and will be quite happy to curl up by you and tell you all about his exciting adventures at the end of the day.

Jake

2009-06-06T12:28:00.000-05:00

I was hesitant to work with Jake when I first saw him - I'm no expert on Pit Bull Terriers, and Jake is boisterous and energetic. It didn't take long to figure out though, he just hates being left out of the action, whatever that might be. As soon as he was out of the kennel and walking with me, Jake was calm, affable, and pretty darned polite.

While walking with him, Jake never tried to one-up me or contradict me like so many poorly raised Pit Bulls do. He was perfectly happy to wander around with me, jog with me, or just sit and hang out. And even though I was certain he had no idea what "wait" or "let's go" meant, he was attentive enough to intuit what I wanted him to do; an unexpected but welcome surprise in a dog as confident and independent as Jake.

UPDATE: When I got to the shelter today, I learned that Jake had gotten into a fight with several other dogs. I'm thinking it's an awkward combination of his unusual voice and "alpha dog" confidence. Especially since all of the dogs he appears to have problems with are other assertive males. Jake will probably require an owner who is a good role model - confident, firm without being overbearing, and calm even when those around them aren't.

UPDATE: Jake was put to sleep on June 8. You were a good dog, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you that a hundred times more than I did.

Boyd

2009-06-04T20:57:00.000-05:00

I read in a book once that Pit Bull Terriers do not play games like "fetch" - it's beneath their dignity. Apparently, Boyd didn't get that memo. I was taking him for a walk one day and getting a bit tired of him tugging on his leash, so I made a detour into the exercise yard, where he could amble around at his own pace for a while. Just because I could, I tossed our token "Kong toy of enormous size" across the yard, and Boyd was on it like a shot. Suddenly, I was his bestest buddy in the whole wide... well, playpen.

Although he's still working on the part where he brings the toy back for another throw, he'll wait patiently for "launch time". And he'll go and pick up his toy for you if he drops it. Best of all, though, is seeing a dog built like a truck leap six feet in the air to catch a ball, and hop around like a puppy with it. I'm pretty sure Boyd is the kind of bulldog that makes people love bulldogs.

Given a little time to let his fly-bitten ears heal up properly, and a little bit of good old-fashioned training, he seems like the kind of dog that people nostalgically tell their grandchildren about.

UPDATE: Boyd was euthanized June 5th. We love you, buddy. You were a good boy.