Nyla

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.

Harley

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

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.

.

Merlin

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.
.

Homer

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!
.

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.
.

Chester

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.

Amy

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

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!

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!

Alice

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...

Minerva

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!

Bernie

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.

Jake

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.