News: Guest Posts
Every day worried pet owners called the Arizona Animal Welfare League (AAWL) for low-cost veterinary care. Only affordable vaccinations and spay/neuter services were available. All that changed on April 9, 2011 when Judith Gardner, president and CEO, announced the opening of PetMed, a veterinary clinic to serve low income pet owners.
Funded by private donations, PetMed opened with once weekly service. Surgeries, if needed, were done on a second day. Through word of mouth advertising, 1,000 owners brought in 168 cats/kittens and 563 dogs/puppies during the first nine months. Additional funding expanded service to three days says Vicky Kamm, director of operations.
In a remodeled clinic, PetMed treats dogs and cats with fungal infections, cracked teeth, Valley fever, and fractured limbs. Veterinary services are limited, however. Walk-ins or emergencies are not accepted. There are no overnight stays. Clients must have an appointment and a fee schedule applies. Kamm says PetMD does not perform cosmetic surgeries such as tail docking or ear cropping. They will not de-claw cats or de-bark dogs.
For the first time, local limited income pet owners have a viable option to help keep their sick or injured animals rather than surrender them to a shelter. Take the case of Missy, a feral kitten with a broken leg. Missy lived in a colony outside a downtown Phoenix hotel. Staff had the colony sterilized and fed them daily. One day a worker noticed Missy’s limp. A veterinarian said a car probably struck the cat and suggested amputation. He recommended PetMed for treatment. Hotel staff pooled their resources for Missy’s successful surgery.
A couple’s pregnant dog Jazzy was in distress after delivering two puppies. A veterinarian determined a third puppy remained inside, dead. Only surgery would relieve Jazzy’s suffering. The financially strapped couple called PetMed. Not only was the surgery successful but Jazzy was spayed too. Later on, the couple brought in their male dog and two puppies for sterilization. Kamm says it was a win/win all around.
PetMed is staffed by a licensed veterinarian and two full-time employees. Volunteers pitch in with clerical duties. In 2013, PetMed plans to expand to four days a week.
Dog's Life: Lifestyle
On a recent dark, chilly fall evening, a three year old child wandered out of his home un-noticed by his parents. His departure was, however, observed by the family dog, a large neutered male Pit Bull, who took it upon himself to follow the little boy and stay close by his side. They were a good distance from home before they were seen by some passers-by who stopped to help. The child was unable to tell them where he lived or give them any other information so deputies were summoned. The dog stayed by the child’s side the entire time, friendly but watchful.
The child was going to be taken into protective custody so one of my fellow animal control officers was dispatched to pick up the dog. The officer scanned the dog and found a microchip which had been implanted by our shelter during a free neuter clinic that we had offered a few years previously. Thanks to the chip, one phone call was all that was needed to get the pair home safely. The situation is still under investigation but could have been much worse had the dog not chosen to stay with the little boy.
I was so touched by the way the faithful dog stayed with the child the entire time and by the way, once again, a microchip led to a happy ending!
I would love to hear from readers about things your dogs have done to be there for someone in need.
Tara, a trainer/dog walker in Red Deer, Alberta has come up with a good idea about ways to alert others about a dog who might need a little “space” from another dog on a leash. She calls it the Yellow Dog Project and founded this movement only a couple of months ago. As you know, there are many reasons why a leashed dog might require a safe distance from another dog—health and behavioral reasons, primarily. Our dear Lenny, a little Terrier mix who died last year at 19, was that kind of dog, he was reactive towards most other dogs. There were many times when a friendly dog would approach us and I would have to call out something like “my dog isn’t friendly,” most of the time the response would be “but my dog is friendly.” How much easier it would be if we all understood that a dog with a yellow ribbon or something in yellow on their leash, said it for us instead. So hooray to Tara—help her spread the word.
Dog's Life: Lifestyle
I was headed back to the shelter after a long day when another call came in. Dispatch informed me that a small dog had bitten a passerby who tried to catch her as she was running in traffic. I called the victim who stated that she had grabbed the dog and received a minor puncture. She hadn’t been able to hold onto her after the bite and had last seen the dog run under an SUV parked in front of a business. When I arrived and looked under the vehicle there was no dog. I poked around in the bushes in front of the building with no luck. Soon a man inside the building saw me and come out. He pointed to the vehicle and said, “She’s under there.” I looked again but no dog. “She’s not there now.” I said.
“Yes she is.” He insisted. “She’s up underneath.”
I found that hard to believe. Cats often climb up inside cars but I’d never heard of a dog doing it. Still, the car was next to a busy road and the dog needed to be quarantined so it was critical that I find her. Doubtfully I got down on my knees and peered under. I was still unable to see anything so I inched underneath it on my back. As I slid farther I saw a small white dog wedged up in the undercarriage of the vehicle. Well, that was a new one. Thank goodness the man had come out. I shuddered to think what might have happened if the owner had driven away.
The dog growled at me, undoubtedly terrified by her ordeal and I sweet-talked to her to calm her down as I slowly worked my way closer. My legs were dangling practically in traffic and I was afraid she would panic and run out in the road and get killed before I could a hold of her in that tight spot. Working slowly and carefully, I managed to slip a lead over her head. In her fear, she snapped at me but I managed to dodge her teeth and get her secured.
It was a challenge to get the little dog down out of the vehicle while avoiding her teeth and the rushing traffic but I finally worked my way out and stood up with the little dog in my arms. She was tense and wary but stopped trying to bite.
Back in the truck, I scanned her. She didn’t have a chip or tags so I settled her in the front seat with me where I could keep an eye on her and headed for the shelter. By the time we made it back we were friends and I found her to be a delightful little dog who had just been terrified by her circumstances and felt the need to defend herself.
No one claimed the little dog during her 10-day bite quarantine and since her bite had been provoked and very minor, she was put up for adoption. Young, healthy and totally adorable, it was only a few days before a lucky adopter snatched her up. I watched her prance out the door with her new person and felt a warm glow of satisfaction.
Dog's Life: Humane
BAD RAP lends a helping hand
Earlier this year, on a sunny January day in a parking lot near the Berkeley, Calif., waterfront, BAD RAP’s Pit Bull training classes were in full swing. People and dogs cheerfully circled, practicing “heel,” “sit” and, most important, “look at me.” The media were there too. They wanted to be ready with photos, film and interviews the minute sentencing was over in the Michael Vick dog fighting trial and a gag order was lifted.
The reporters needed to have the “Vick dogs” pointed out to them. A big white pit bull with tan spots and three legs would make a great photo, but Dango wasn’t a Vick dog—he was from an Oakland shelter. What about chocolate Stella, with the fight scars? No, she was from a drug bust in Detroit.
When it was time for a group photo of the Vick dogs, there was trouble, just the sort of trouble you’d expect. The dogs heard “photo op” and they thought “wigglefest.” They didn’t want to look at the camera, they wanted to lick faces, play or roll over for a belly rub.
The Vick dogs are a sample of what gets called “Pit Bull” in America today. Small black Frodo looks like the Old World Pit Bulls traditionally bred by dog fighters. Hector’s a big red dog with scars on his chest. Jonny Justice is black and white, glossy as a penguin. Big white Teddles looks like the many American Pits crossed with bigger breeds. As BAD RAP’s co-founder Tim Racer describes this trend, Teddles slumps against my leg—after all, he’s known me for 30 seconds—and lets me rub his speckled ears.
Donna Reynolds and Tim Racer founded BAD RAP—Bay Area Doglovers Responsible About Pit Bulls–in 1999, and in 2007, Reynolds and Racer were among the nine experts asked by the ASPCA to help evaluate 49 of the dogs seized from Vick’s Bad Newz kennels and held in Virginia-area shelters. When the dogs were initially seized, Reynolds and Racer had submitted a proposal to evaluate them, hoping to fend off their immediate destruction, and were gratified when the government agreed. In addition to Racer, Reynolds and Justin Phillips of the SPCA of Monterey County, Calif., the evaluation team assembled by the ASPCA consisted of Dr. Randall Lockwood, Dr. Pamela J. Reid, Dr. Daniel Q. Estep, Dr. Crista R. Coppola and Nancy Williams, and was led by Dr. Stephen Zawistowski. Though the case hit the news in April 2007, evaluators weren’t able to see the dogs until September.
It was a dog fighting case, and a hoarding case, and a neglect case. Vick had amassed more dogs than he could fight or sell. The dogs spent deprived lives caged or chained to car axles in the woods. After they were confiscated and parceled out to six different Virginia animal control shelters, their isolation continued. It was hardest on the youngest dogs. Those who came to BAD RAP arrived in October after seven months in custody.
Although dogs don’t tell stories, they have stories, and stories help us understand. The saga of Vick’s Bad Newz Kennels, and the dogs who were hung, drowned or electrocuted when they displeased their handlers, grabbed the public’s attention. The dogs who died helped people see the surviving dogs as victims, not monsters. The story changed.
Animal welfare groups are using that story as a powerful tool to show that “fight-bust dogs” should be evaluated as individuals, and that it’s wrong to assume they’ve been turned into monsters. The personal stories of dogs—dogs redeemed from dreadful captivity, with no interest in fighting, joyously learning to be with people—have touched many hearts.
Transitioning to a Better Life
A few days later, I visited Frodo at Reynolds and Racer’s house, which is given over to dogs and art. Racer carves wooden carousel animals—including dogs—with marvelous detail, and Reynolds is a found-object artist. Their big deaf Pit Bull, Honky Tonk, comes over to say hello and lean on me. Before long, Honky Tonk is in the chair with me. Then Frodo nervously approaches to be introduced, smells my hand and excuses himself to be a little farther away.
Frodo represents a less-told side of this story: how much some dogs suffered from their long isolation in legal custody. Frodo and his littermates were six months old when they were confiscated. “They’re stunted. Socially stunted,” Reynolds says. Among his littermates, Frodo’s doing the best at adjusting to his new life. “He’s the bravest,” she says.
In the 1990s, Racer and Reynolds were doing all-breed rescue. They had no special affinity for Pit Bulls, but saw that no one was doing anything for them. “It was really just about helping the underdog,” Racer says. “There were no rescue groups for Pit Bulls. They were dying in record numbers. Besides that, they’re a great family dog.”
They rescued and placed some Pit mixes. “Then we ended up with an ex-fighting dog.” They got a call from a woman who’d found an injured dog in the street at midnight; she opened her car door and the dog got in. Racer and Reynolds went to the vet hospital to meet him. “He was covered in wounds—old wounds, new wounds … He was just shredded. Attached to a standing IV, he leaned into our legs, looked up and started wagging his tail. I said, ‘I don’t know how to help this animal, but we’ll find out,’” Racer recalls.
To counter the myths about the dangers of the breed, they created a website. “The avalanche came rolling in,” Reynolds says. “By day three, we were just inundated.”
That was the start of BAD RAP. They began developing training classes and doing education, speaking at animal welfare conferences. “We’re helping the larger organizations improve their message about the breed,” Reynolds says. BAD RAP does weeklong “Pit Ed” camps for shelter staffers and rescuers. They’ve partnered with the East Bay SPCA for shot fairs and free spaying and neutering for Pit Bulls, and their website has everything from news about legislation to a popular page called “Happy Endings.”
“Rescuing is a political action,” Racer says. Some rescued dogs have stories that catch public attention and help educate people about Pit Bulls. The organization took a lot of Pit Bulls after Katrina, and they may take a dog from a distant shelter to show shelter staff that Pit rescue works. For example, Stella, the dog from the drug bust, was an exception to a Detroit shelter’s policy of euthanizing all Pit Bulls; they will now revisit that policy. And Stella has a pending adoption.
BAD RAP deals with about 17 dogs at a time. They look for classic Pit Bull temperament, Reynolds says. “Optimistic, resilient, stable, well balanced, able to deal with confinement. Appropriately submissive. Dogs who can tolerate, if not enjoy, other dogs.” As for the Vick dogs, “These dogs have been more thoroughly evaluated than any dogs in history,” she says. The dogs they chose to care for would be ambassadors, representing not just Pit Bulls, but fight-bust dogs. After socialization and training, they would have to be flawless. “They have to be perfect,” Reynolds says. “That’s a horrible pressure, because no dog is perfect.”
Like Frodo, many of the Vick dogs were fearful after their long periods of isolation, and they’re not the only Pit Bulls with socialization issues. Many are chained and left outside all day—or night and day—and serve as puppy machines or guard dogs. They don’t know what to do in other settings. “A lot of the dogs have never been out of their back yards before,” Reynolds says.
Dogs who have been isolated from other dogs need to learn dog manners. In their foster homes, they may need to learn what furniture is, and how to behave around it. They may have to learn to walk on a leash. Loving people comes naturally to Pit Bulls, but the Vick dogs needed to learn manners. Frodo didn’t make eye contact with people at first. “It was like we were furniture,” Reynolds says. “It took a while. But once he got it, that was it!”
As we talk, from the corner of my eye, I watch Frodo come over to my chair. Silently, he smells my hand and touches it softly with his closed mouth.
Hector plays exuberantly with Nuccio’s dog Pandora. Nuccio has taught him “look” and “sit,” and they’re working on “down.” He’s learned to understand tones of voice. He’s also learned about cars, music, toys and dog beds. “I don’t think he’d ever been in a house. He was honestly surprised that playing tug with pool table pockets was not a good game.”
Nuccio wonders about Hector’s life before the bust. “I think he never got to play, so he just wants to play all the time.” And he does, zooming through rooms, snatching a piece of toast off a counter, dragging the bathroom rug through the house. “He’ll try to eat anything once. ‘Can I chew on the chair?’ ‘No.’ ‘How about the pillow on the chair?’ ‘No!’ ‘What about this other chair?’”
As Reynolds observes, “They’ve all had this intense puppy period. In all their houses, they all collect things and hoard them in their crates. Then they all stopped.” It was as though they needed to catch up on the chance to manipulate objects after their long, empty captivity. (Frodo collected eight shoes.)
Coming Together for Change
Another Vick dog, Leo, also came to the press event. Leo, a large red-gold Pit with soulful eyes and scars on his head, went to Our Pack, a South Bay rescue group, which trained him as a therapy dog. Founder Marthina McClay took Racer’s recommendation that Leo would be a good therapy dog. “He’s so sweet,” she marvels. “I don’t see a damaged dog whatsoever. Pit Bulls are great for therapy. That’s what they’re born for.”
The Vick case was the first with a Guardian/Special Master, appointed by the court, to recommend outcomes for the dogs. Rebecca Huss, a professor at Valparaiso School of Law, a specialist in animal law, was selected for this role. She was appointed in October 2007, after the dogs’ sixth month in custody. Her task was to observe the dogs and talk with the dogs’ caretakers, review the evaluations, and make recommendations to the court for the dogs’ futures. “So many people had written to the court and expressed interest,” she says. “It certainly made a difference.”
The dogs were evaluated on their responses to people and to other dogs, to being handled, and for general reactivity. All but one were found to be safe around people. Huss took applications from several rescue organizations, and only those who met all the standards set in the application were considered. Eventually, the dogs were distributed among eight groups; BAD RAP took in the second largest number. As a condition of placement, each group committed to the lifetime care of the dogs if necessary. “A lot of people were critical, saying ‘Why these dogs?’ I say, why not? They’re equally deserving. And if they’ve got a story that can help a dog down the line, that’s even better,” Huss notes.
When asked about the impact of the Vick case, ASPCA’s Randall Lockwood says he’s seeing shifting views about fight-bust dogs. People are starting to look at the dogs as victims, not as instruments, of the crime. “We need to get away from the knee-jerk assumption that all dogs seized in that context are necessarily a threat,” he says. “They deserve to be looked at as individuals.”
“I’ve changed my own position,” Lockwood says. “I helped draft the HSUS policy [when I worked there] of not placing animals rescued from known dog-fighting operations. I’ve changed my tune.”
A handful of shelters around the country have been treating fight-bust dogs differently. BAD RAP has already taken some dogs from a Missouri case and some from Arizona. Debbie Hill, at the Humane Society of Missouri, agrees that the Vick media coverage has changed things. Before this high-profile case, she says, among animal welfare professionals, “It was ‘oh, this animal was involved in fighting.’ And you kind of ended the conversation right there.”
Donna Reynolds believes the handling of the Vick dogs is helping change what people say about fight-bust dogs. It’s become impossible to argue that fight-bust dogs must be put down as menaces. “If it’s because there aren’t resources, then that should be the message, ” Reynolds says. “At least they’re not blaming the breed.”
If fight-bust dogs can be placed, that means more dogs to place, and shelters are already overloaded. “We’re not saying that you have to save all your fight-bust dogs, but they still deserve to be treated as individuals. Give them a blanket, give them a toy, give them a walk,” Reynolds says.
Leslie Nuccio’s fostering gave Hector needed socialization. “Hector deserved to have a good time, he deserved to get a lot of love,” says Reynolds. “Now it’s time to get to work.” Mr. Can-I-Chew-the-Chair? needs to get serious so he can find a permanent home.
Cohen is Hector’s boot camp instructor. He’ll make Hector the perfect ambassador and prepare the big pup for Canine Good Citizen classes. What will be hardest for Hector, we wondered? “Sitting politely for petting. He may want to kiss the evaluator.”
Earlier, Cohen and Long fostered Jonny Justice. At first, Jonny was afraid of running water—who knows why?—but by the time he left, could be bathed without a tether. “He didn’t like it, but he stayed. ‘I don’t like this. Can I go? No? Okay.’” Long says, “Jonny was cooked, Jonny was done.” He’s now in a foster home with other dogs and cats.
Long and Cohen say Jonny needed lots of repetition to learn commands, but readily accepted the basic concept. “‘I’ll do whatever you want! Can I have a cookie?’” Cohen says. “Things that took Jonny a month, Hector gets in two days.” But Hector’s smart enough to be manipulative. “‘If you don’t have a cookie in your hand, I’m not doing it.’” In which case, he goes back to his crate. “The smarter the dog, the slower the process.”
Hector, who learned about couches at Nuccio’s house, thinks it would be nice to get up on this one, but Cohen tells him no. “You haven’t earned that spot in our house yet.” Hector stops trying to climb up. “Look at me,” Cohen tells Hector. Hector pretends not to hear, facing away, with a phony ‘I have no idea you’re talking to me’ expression. So Cohen puts him in the crate and Hector gazes out with goo-goo eyes. “Oh, now you see me.”
A few months after meeting Frodo, I saw him again. He’s now at Kim Ramirez’s house. “He needed more life experience,” Reynolds says. “He needs to see that the world is more than our little household.” BAD RAP is in touch with someone who might adopt him. “She’s interested in him because he’s trying so hard to be brave.”
Frodo’s in his crate, and he’s delighted to see a visitor. Ramirez won’t let him barrel out; she makes him sit first. Then he charges over to say hello, licking my hands.
When Ramirez says “Look at me,” he shows her a relaxed, smiling face. The change in him is impressive. New things remain hard for Frodo, though. We take him for a walk, and after an hour or so, he’s had all the newness he can handle. We rest on grass in a park, and I unwisely offer him my notebook to sniff. Too much! He leaves and goes to Ramirez’s far side.
Back home, Ramirez gives the dogs ice cubes. Frodo takes his into his crate. Ice cubes are still news to him—good news. He crunches it peacefully, without bothering to check if the outsider is looking. Cohen’s right: Frodo has come light years. I believe in his happy ending.
Good Dog: Behavior & Training
Trivia game fuels donations
On the site freekibble.com, there’s a daily multiple-choice trivia question, and if you answer it, 10 pieces of kibble will be donated to an animal shelter. It doesn’t matter whether you are right or wrong. As long as you click on an answer each day, food will be donated.
Questions are highly variable. Some concern public figures. Recently there were questions concerning Richard Nixon and his dog Checkers as well as The Duchess of Cornwall and her new dog Bluebell. Other questions relate to breeds with questions being as variable as the breed that was developed by the Russian army to handle very cold temperatures (Russian Black Terriers) and which type of mix is most common in this country (German Shepherd). There are also questions about college mascots, the origin of expressions such as “Beware of Dog” which has its roots in ancient Rome, and random questions including the fact that a Pit Bull named Wallace who was rescued from a shelter became a World Champion Disc dog.
It’s fun to check out the daily question, and doubly so because doing so helps feed dogs in shelters. As the founder of the site, Mimi Ausland says, “Every dog and cat deserves a decent dinner.” (There is also a related site called freekibblekat.com.) Ausland was 11 years old in 2008, which is when she launched the site, which has provided 8 million meals to homeless animals.
Dog's Life: Humane
Resources for parents & teachers
Across the country, groups both large and small provide information and services in support of humane education. Here are a few places to start, and others may be available in your community. If not, give some thought to helping your humane society start a local program. The world—and its children and animals—can always use more kindness!
The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals
Best Friends Animal Society
Dumb Friends League
HEART (Humane Education Advocates Reaching Teachers)
Humane Education Programs
Humane Society of the United States
Institute for Humane Education
The National Humane Education Society
Progressive Animal Welfare Society
Dog's Life: Humane
Raising Money for Rescue
La Dolce Vita Gourmet is the newest food truck making waves on the streets of Los Angeles. Dog lovers Joanna Fiore and Michael Valentine converted a vintage 1947 Airstream into a traveling café featuring gourmet cashew butter sandwiches, gelatos and other delectables — all to raise funds for their nonprofit dog rescue of the same name. Menu items are named after their rescue dogs Luigi, Gigi, Dino and the rest of the gang. The couple decided to put wheels on their fundraising efforts because, as Joanna admits, “We suck at raising money for our rescue. We thought, why not give people something they love to eat and, at the same time, all the proceeds will go to our charity for dogs.”
They already have a large and growing following of people who line up for their flavored nutty butters, which are also available online. Check it out and be sure to watch the videos of the dogs. They hit a sweet spot too.
Dog's Life: Humane
Are people crazy to admit they need their dogs?
Last spring, Ashley Judd took heat in the blogosphere for coming out as having psychological-support dogs to help her cope with depression. After the actress posted on Twitter that it is illegal to “pester” someone about having service dogs, people around the country responded by calling her “crazy,” a “beyotch” and a “service-dog snob.” Some suggested that she was using the laws that allow service animals in public places as a way to be a diva.
Registered as official service animals, Judd’s four-legged friends go everywhere with her. Yet, legally, as psychiatric service dogs, they are considered neither her friends nor her pets. The law is quite clear that service animals are for use by people who suffer from physical or mental disabilities. Rather than companions or helpers, the law holds them to be the same as the inanimate equipment those with disabilities use to navigate the world.
According to the law, animals can enter our intimate family circles either as pets — which is to say, as property — or as a result of trauma, disease or disability. For example, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) has been used to protect the rights of people dependent upon psychiatric-service and emotional-support animals as long as they are not pets but, rather, “assistive aids, such as wheelchairs.” According to the Department of Justice (DOJ), their calming or therapeutic effect is not enough; all service dogs (or other animals) must be specifically trained to perform tasks. They must pick up dropped keys, counterbalance dizziness, turn on lights or do something else to help with the requirements of daily life.
The DOJ draws a distinction between psychiatric-service dogs and emotional-support or therapy dogs. The former are legally recognized under the ADA, while the latter are not, despite the fact that they are included in current subcategories of service animals.
My sister, a liver-and-kidney transplant recipient, has three Dachshunds who go everywhere with her and help her cope with the post-traumatic stress of her medical ordeals. Her dogs are therapy animals prescribed by a doctor to provide emotional support. Having a prescription should allow patients to take their animals with them into public places where animals are usually banned, including buses and trains, buildings, and the workplace. However, unless the dogs are providing a material service, technically they are not legal service animals.
Doctors prescribe dogs instead of pills for everything from post-traumatic stress to depression. The military is using dogs in war zones not only as bomb-sniffers but also to comfort battle-weary soldiers, and veterans returning home with post-traumatic stress disorder also have dogs prescribed to help them. (This is an about-face for the military, which, until 2000, had a policy of treating “war dogs” as equipment to be disposed of after they were no longer useful.)
In addition, comfort dogs are used in courtrooms to provide emotional support for children called to testify in difficult cases, and Yale Law School has instituted a program whereby students can “check out” a dog from the library to help alleviate stress. Programs like these are popping up all over as evidence mounts that companion animals reduce both mental and physical stress as well as promote learning, coping and social adjustment for all ages.
It is ironic, then, that although our attitudes toward animals are changing, psychological and emotional dependence on them is still seen as a sign of childishness at best and craziness at worst. Our relationships with animals are being circumscribed by laws that relegate them to the role of tools or medication, and then pathologize the people who rely on them. These laws show that public policy does not take our love and dependence on animals seriously. Instead, it turns them into devices, machines performing tasks or medication prescribed by doctors. In order to have our dependency on animals sanctioned by law, we have to become patients and objectify our furry friends.
This cultural and legal attitude suggests that people who are dependent on their animals for anything other than amusement or entertainment are abnormal or unhealthy. People who love animals as friends and family, and more especially, who depend on them for comfort and emotional support, are seen as quirky at best, and at worst, mentally ill. Perhaps it is time that our culture accepts that we depend on animals in all aspects of our lives, including companionship and emotional support.
Dog's Life: Lifestyle
Saving a shelter dog
I’ve always felt that the best way to remember a beloved dog is to rescue another dog in need. I was missing my previous rescued Doberman when a friend who knows that I have a soft spot for them sent me a photo. It was of a Doberman scheduled for euthanasia in a shelter in southern California, many hours away. The dog was a black female of maybe 3 or 4 years old. The sweet face appealed to me and I requested more information. I was told that she was friendly and had come in as a stray. She had a microchip going back to Oaxaca, Mexico and the unfortunate name of “Slash” but the owner never claimed her and no one came to adopt her.
I agreed to foster her and waited to hear back. On a Thursday I heard that she had to be pulled by the next day or she would be euthanized. I had no way to pick her up until Sunday as I had to work and there was no one to cover me. I offered to give the shelter a credit card or whatever it took to hold her. The response: “You don’t understand. We want to help but there is no room. She will be euthanized Friday unless she’s picked up by closing.”
It was a sad reality to hear that this shelter was so overcrowded that friendly, healthy dogs were being euthanized. It was a frantic scramble to try and find a way to save the dog. I would have driven there after work but they would be closed. It was a long shot for a dog that I hadn’t even been able to evaluate but I made a bunch of phone calls and fretted.
Finally one of the rescues got back to me with the news that a nearby kennel would board the dog for $10 a night and a rescue transport could bring her part way up to Northern California on Sunday. I was also asked to pick up a Pit Bull who had also been scheduled for euthanasia and had a foster home waiting. We met on interstate Hwy 5 at a gas station on a desolate stretch of barren freeway.
The rescue driver snapped a lead on “Slash” and brought her out. The dog greeted me eagerly, her stump of a tail wiggling with delight. I was thrilled with her sweet temperament and confident friendliness. Her coat was dull and she was thin but I knew that was easily remedied. The Pit Bull was a sweetheart as well and I walked them both before loading them into crates in my station wagon and starting the long drive back. As I glanced at the Dobie in the rear view mirror I decided to change her name to Breeze.
I dropped off the Pit with her foster family and when I got home I took Breeze out into my fenced pasture and let her loose. She began racing huge joyful circles around the field, darting back to give me kisses before she was off again. As the sun set over the trees I glanced at my watch and realized that she and the sweet little Pit Bull would have been dead by then if not for the combined efforts of a lot of people. My eyes filled with tears as I continued to watch her run.
I introduced Breeze to my complicated family of teens, husband, elderly house-mate and other dogs. She couldn’t have been any sweeter with soft playful body language and a constantly wagging tail. She also had an endearing habit of carrying her stuffed toys, her “babies” everywhere she went. I was absolutely smitten.
The only snag was introducing Breeze to the cats. She had major cat issues and those took a lot of work to overcome and manage. She is such a truly wonderful dog in every other way though that it’s been more than worth it and she became a permanent member of our family. Every time I watch her racing joyfully on the beach, playing with the other dogs or feel her sweet head on my lap, I’m thankful she’s alive.
I’m so grateful to all the people who spent their valuable time making it happen. My friend who sent me Breeze’s photo and made rescue arrangements, the overburdened shelter workers, the woman who agreed to board her for two nights and the people who transported her on their own time all had a hand in saving this wonderful girl’s life. For those of us who think dogs are one of our greatest treasures on earth, it’s time well spent.
Copyright © 1997-2016 The Bark, Inc. Dog Is My Co-Pilot® is a registered trademark of The Bark, Inc