Tom

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!

Queen Maggie

Maggie is a grand old dame who welcomes her admirers but prefers they treat her with respect. An overzealous puppy will get a motherly reprimand and a regal turn of the head. She enjoys a brisk trot around the yard in spite of having hip displasia and would be a wonderful companion to a low-activity household with plenty of couch space to spare. She's a natural red-head with fur as soft as velvet and is quite happy to let you pet her all you want.

I was first drawn to Maggie because her age - nearly ten years old - seemed to present more of a challenge to work with than other dogs. In that assumption, I was completely wrong. She was obviously extremely active in her younger days, and doesn't even really let her hip displasia slow her down (except on tile or concrete, where traction can be a challenge sometimes). Maggie likes to be treated with respect; the picture above is Her Highness lecturing young Remo on the faux pas of jumping up on your elders. She doesn't take it for granted, though, and gives back every bit of kindness and respect that she wants for herself.

Oddly, I personally find all of her imperfections - her grizzled muzzle, random warts, knots and such - make her all the more endearing because of her pride and composure.

In all honesty, I don't know how much longer Maggie will be around; adopted or not. All I can say with certainty is that I think the world's just a little bit better for her having been in it.

UPDATE: Maggie was euthanized on June 5. Sleep well, pretty girl. We'll miss you.