Rexa

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.

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Smitty (AKA, "Buster")

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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Lester

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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