A new feeling

Tellie is the biggest little dog I've ever known.  Skylar is our giant floppy puppy.  Jersey was our teacher, Zen master and beloved companion.  We've loved New Years who showed me what true courage is while suffering from diabetes, IBS, cataracts and received countless vaccinations, was subject to too many needles, had to eat very, very bland food and had way too many trips to the emergency vet clinic  Haley was regal in bearing and was Alexa's forever sould mate.  I've also been touched by Milagro and Sundance and Goldie, the Shetland Sheep dog I grew up with.

Despite the fact my life has been effected by each and every one, I never considered myself an animal advocate.  I've directed live television coverage of city council meetings where people, including Alexa, spoke out strongly on behalf of circus animals; I was hired as the photographer at an awards gala honoring people who took extraordinary actions to speak on behalf of animals; I've created televion programming highlighting a mobile vet service serving dogs and cats in very, very rural New Mexico.  Alexa and I hosted live television coverage of a Pet Parade.  Despite all that I never gave thought that I might be doing something on behalf of an animal and possibly giving voice to their welfare.

Most recently, I feel like I've played a part in speaking on behalf of little Hannah, the dog we rescued and who ended up facing an uncertain and hopeless future in our county animal shelter.

As a result, I recognize I have been given a very special gift.  The gift of comapassion and I'm not the only one who has received it.  I recognize it in those who speak out on behalf of an animal, it can be seen in someone visiting an animal shelter and the way they scrunch down in front of a kennel to spend a couple of minutes and offer a word of encouragement and love to a caged dog. It's obvious in someone walking their dog down the street. They a demonstrate a committment to the care of their pet.  I see it and feel it in the folks who stood up and took action to ensure Hannah would be given a chance at having a life with a loving adopted family.

It is truly a gift that keeps on giving.  Look for your compassion and exercise it. Let it guide your actions.  Do something, anything.  Give it away.  Scrunch down in front of an animal shelter cage and offer a moment of love to a dog or cat who might never have experienced a kind word yet has unlimited loylaty and love to give back. It'll come back to you and change your life.

Saturday at the shelter

Alexa and I went to the shelter late Saturday morning to check in on the pup we rescued last week.

Just to preface this, we can't adopt her and we can't foster her.  We've got some contstraints that make it impossible so our hands are really tied about what we can do for her.

On Friday, I called the shelter to see if I could get an update on her to find out if she had calmed down at all.  I was told she was fine, had received her shots and that she would be put up for adoption the next day.  We were both excited by the news and felt relieved that "Hannah," the name the shelter folks gave her, would be alright.  It sounded like she was on the path to getting a good home.

We had already decided we would visit the shelter to follow up on the pup in person to see how she was doing.  Now, because she would be adopted we were doubly looking forward to seeing her and wishing her well on her journey with a new family

When we showed up, we immediately went to the kennel area where they kept the adoptable dogs.  We went form cage to cage thinking we would see her standing in anticipation, ready to meet the family she would go home with.  Alexa took one aisle and I took the other.  The barking was cacophonous as it echoed off the concrete walls.  Each dog excitedly barked when they saw us.

"Hello! Helloooo! Hello! Take me home!  I am ready to go with you! I know you're the one who's gonna take me out of here!!!"

Each cage held a beautiful dog.  There were Pitties, Terriers, Beagles, a Chow-chow, A little Dachsund, Chihuahua's; puppies, older dogs, young and spritely.  All ready to go home with someone.

We didn't see little Hannah. "Oh, well" we figured, "maybe they haven't put her out yet."

We went to the front desk and asked where she was.  We explained we had been told she would be available for adoption.  We explained we were the one's who rescued her and that we wanted to have a visit.

"Um," the clerk told hesitatingly said.  "She's not adoptable.  She's a snapper and has been determined to be aggressive. We'll try to find a shelter that will take her but we don't think we'll be too successful."

"What!" Alexa asked, incredulously. "What does that mean!!??"

"Since she's aggressive, we'll probably have no choice but to euthanize her."

"Wait a sec. Someone here told us she would be put up for adotpion and you would work on finding her a home! This dog is NOT aggressive!  She's scared to death and needs someone to work with her!  We gained her trust over the course of five days and she licked Eric's hand! She's a 15 pound little dog who doesn't know what to make of her surroundings and you're going to euthanize her???"

The vet tech condescendingly told us it was his determination the dog was aggressive and could not be rehabilitated.

"You all told us she would be adopted and now you're telling us that after five days of being here, you're probably going to put her down???? Don't be so heartless.  Give her a chance, give her a chance."

"Well," the tech said "She's got until at least Tuesday before any action is taken.  The call will be ultimately be made by my supervisor, with my input and I've determined she will not stop being snappy."

Alexa dropped to he knees in shock at this turn of events as tears welled up in her eyes.  "Don't make me beg. Please don't make me beg. I'm pleading with you! Give this little dog a chance!  Please! She can't speak for herself so I'm asking on her behalf" The staff who gathered behind the counter looked uncomfortable, not sure how to respond.

"I see your passion," said the tech who had been speaking to us "but there's nothing I can do.  It's up to my supervisor and she's not in until Tuesday.  The dog has been listed in an e-mail that was blasted to area shelters.  There's a chance one of them will take her in."

Alexa stood.  "Can we at least see her to show her someone cares and is thinking of her?"

"No." he said. "You can't.  She's in isolation.  She's very aggressive."

"Can't you at least pretend to understand what she's talking about?" I said. "What harm is there in saying hello?  We're not going into the cage, we just want her to see us."

The dogs began to bark as he led us into the kennel area that housed the "hopeless" dogs.  We crouched in front of her cage.  She saw us and began wagging her tail in a way that said she recognized us. She bark, bark, barked but approached and came closer.

We looked directly at each other.  Her brown eyes again tearing as she realized we couldn't come in and sit with her.

I stood and had to leave.  I couldn't stay any longer.

I said good bye and told her not to worry, everything would be okay.

I waited for Alexa in the lobby.

As we walked to the car we both had heavy hearts.  Alexa said "at least they'll stop and think before they do anything and maybe a shelter WILL take her. There's nothing else we can do."

Alexa is my hero.  Her passion, compassion and willingness to speak up and give voice to what should be obvious: there is no reason to euthanize this dog.  She very willingly stands up and advocates for any creature that would otherwise be disregarded and tossed aside.

We don't know what's going to happen but Alexa did everything she possibly could to have the life and spirit of this little dog spared.  Her passion has given the shelter staff reason for pause before they take any drastic action.

Alexa's voice is powerful. In this case, she willingly used it to speak on behalf of Hannah.

Alexa is a guardian angel.

UPDATE: Little Lost Dog

It seems harsh to use the word "caught" or "trapped" when I refer to the little dog that had been behind our neighbor's house for a few days last week and and over the past weekend.  So, I'll use the word corral.  We managed to corral him into a portable enclosure so that our county Animal Control folks could transport him to the shelter.

I had gotten him to the point of trusting me enough to come within a foot of me to eat the piece of bacon I held out and tossed onto the blanket we had left out for him.  With Tellie at my side, I showed the little guy that I was OK.  Hopefully, I was showing that I wasn't hurting Tellie and I was feeding her by hand, that I was safe.

Though the dog didn't get close enough to eat directly out of my hand, he did decide to trust me enough to get close. I think he thought since Tellie was eating, he could probably get in on the action as well.

I sort of felt his skitteshness disapate as he chowed down on the bacon. He didn't totally surrender and completely trust me but it was good progress and probably would have led to me being able to touch him.

An Animal Control Officer did show up earlier in the afternoon to see the situation first hand.  They decided the best course of action would be to lure the dog into a cage, similar to a racoon trap.  We set it up and laid down a trail of baloney which hopefully would lead him in far enough to trip the mechanism which would snap the gate close behind him.

Eventually, everything worked according to plan.  The poor guy was very, very interested in the trail of meat and ultimately went far enough into the cage to activate the trap door.

It was vey hard to watch as the startled, firghtened dog ran around in frantic circles, trying to find a way out.  His bark sounded terrified the more and more he threw himself around looking for an exit.

Eventually, he settled down as the shock of the moment set in.  He had no idea what was happening. He couldn't and didn't understand that it was the only way to ensure he would be safe and not have to spend anymore time outside, fending for himself facing an uncertain future.

It sort of hurt my heart as I slowly approached the cage.  I had facilitated tricking him and violating any sense of trust he may have built up toward me. 

As I sat down next to him, the first thing I noticed was that "he" was a "she." Her eyes were brown and big and had a very frightened look in them.  She had an underbite and a appeared to be older than we originally thought. She had a little head and floppy ears and with a nose longer than it seemed from across the backyard.  Her fur was longer than I anticiapted because from a distance, it looked pretty smooth and short like that of a Pug.

I began to talk to her, apologizing for what I had done but trying to explain that it was for her higher good.  I quitely asked St. Francis to watch out for her and for Jersey to be with her and let her calming spirit provide some comfort.

As she intently looked at me, I could hear her saying to me in a resigned fashion, "I trusted you.  What did you do to me?"

While we looked into each others eyes, what appeared to be tears welling up began to drop from the corner of her eyes.  I know there are some dogs that have leaky eyes and they tend to water on a regular basis but this girl had none of those tell-tale signs.

I reached out and put a knuckle into the cage.  She reached forward, gave me a tender nip and licked me.  She then retreated back into her self and sat down. We had touched and made contact.

Animal Control eventually arrived and we carried her into the back of the van.  The officer shut the door and drove off.

The next day I called the administrative office of the kennel to see how she did after she got checked in and examined.  The first thing I was told was that they named her Hannah! The second thing they told me was that she was exhibiting signs of aggressiveness by barking and snapping at the kennel attendant. I'd bark and snap too if I was frightened by the strange surroundings and constant noise from the other dogs.

I asked if she was going to be adopted out after the quartine period of five days was over.  I was told there were three possibilities.  If she settled down and the kennel tech thought she had become calm enough to get some practice loose leash walking and being taught some basic manners, she would be put up for adoption.  If she remained wary of anyone that approached her, they might try to find a shelter where someone might work closely with her to ultimately bring her around.  Finally, if they thought she she couldn't be rehabilitated, they would be left with no choice.  They would have to take drastic, irreversible action.

I felt sick to my stomache as I heard that news.  In an effort to extend assistance, I opened the possibility of something horrible happening to this little dog who, through no fault of her own, was abandoned. I'm sure the fear she developed of people was because of the way she was probably treated by a heartless guardian.  They totally disregarded the responsibility they had for her care and protection.

I don't know what will happen and can't help but pray she gets what every dog deserves a long, secure life with a loving open-hearted guardian.

I almost grieve for the disregard and lack of compassion some people exhibit.  I'll never fathom how a living, conscious, feeling innocent being like little Hannah can end up in a cage, in a shelter, facing the possibility of having the light in her eyes go dark.

Please, adopt a stray, unwanted animal.  Have them spayed or neutered and love them. They deserve compassion and a happy, safe, protected life.

A little lost dog

Someone abandoned a dog in our neighborhood last week.  I'm assuming it was last Thursday.  It was a rainy afternoon and the little fellow was discovered huddled under the overhang of our front porch by the electrican we were expecting to do some service in our house.  The dog darted off when he came up the walk to the door. 

When I got home from work that afternoon, I saw the dog hovering under the eaves over the deck of our neighbor's house.  By this time a steady light rain was falling and he was doing what he could to stay dry.  I went over with a handful of dog treats to try and coax him over so we might help him.

He's a little dog.  We think he's some kind of Boston Terrier/Pug mix.  When I walked up the stairs he started barking and ran to the deck railing, trying to squeeze through two of the balusters holding up the railing.  At this, I figured it would be best to leave him alone.

The next day I saw him in the back yard of another neighbor's house, two doors down from us.  He was looking in the direction of our house as if he was wondering if we would come out.  I brought him food and water and put it against the house next door.  I had ripped up some chicken and put it on top of the kibble I had put in the bowl.  As I approached to put it down he barked and barked and barked, warning me not to invade his space.

Later in the day I checked the bowls and he had eaten the chicken bits but left the kibble.  Turns out he was finicky in what he'd eat.

Both Alexa and I spent time trying to lure him to us. We sat on the ground a respectful distance away and tried to be as non-threatening as possible, We wanted to earn his trust.  He stopped barking and came closer to check us out.  He had his limits though.  He wouldn't come closer than 15 feet but seemed curious in what we were doing.

Later in the day I refilled his bowls and moved them closer to the wheelbarrow he had been sleeping under so he might feel more comfortable eating.  I figured if the food was right there, he might be tempted to eat.

That evening the temperature was dropping so Alexa took an old blanket out to him and put it under the wheelbarrow that had become his makeshft home.  We figured at least he could keep a little warmer and drier if he wasn't sleeping directly on the ground.

The next morning we awoke to find him again watching for us.  Though he still barked when he saw us and backed away when we approached, he was at least he wagging his tail.  I went over to retrieve the bowls and discovered he had eaten a good portion of the dry food and drank a good amount of water during the night.  I refilled both and brought them back so he could eat during the day if he wanted.

We called Animal Control to get them to come out and pick the little fellow up.  To my surprise, they told me if I couldn't catch him, they probably couldn't catch him and didn't even want to come out.  They suggested we come and pick up a trap which we could set up and lure him into it with some smelly canned dog food.

They also told us if we could get him in the cage, they wouldn't be able to pick him up until tuesday as they were closed Sunday and Monday.  We had no choice but try on our own to help this pup out.

We spent the next day again trying to get him closer.  We even brought Tellie (who is about the same size)  over to say hello to him, thinking she would be non-threatening and might draw the dog to her and possibly follow her to our house.

No such luck.

Bottom line it's the beginning of the fourth day and he's still out back watching for us.  We're not sure what to do but need to figure something out pretty quick.  It's supposed to get a little colder.  It's supposed to rain.  Absent any other help, it seems it's up to us to try and do something.  I don't know what's going to happen but I guess ultimately, we'll figure something out.

I don't know how some people can be so mean and cruel as to abandon a dog. Whoever did it has no heart and should be ashamed of themselves. Whoever it was took off his collar and for some reason left him to fend for himself.  I can understand a changing situation and it's not practical to care for a dog any more.  I can even understand having buyer's remorse after bringing the dog home.  I can't understand leaving a dog homeless. It seems a better choice, rather than dump him on the street, is to turn it in to an animal shelter, preferably a no-kill shelter.  There are a number of them in our area and they are equipped to care for dogs in a situation like this.  At least then the little fella would have a chance of being adopted and finding a home where he might be loved.

Seeing the future

Two days ago I ran across a couple of pictures of Jersey.  The one was a picture I've posted in this blog before.  It's of Jersey and Tellie sitting on the top step of the deck, looking out.  I don't know what they were so intent on but whatever had captures their attention was off in the distance.  Maybe it was a rabbit, maybe they were looking into the future.  Jersey was very much alive and was in her prime.  She was clearly engaged, she was strong and she was healthy.

The other was the picture I use as a profile picture on Facebook.  It's my favorite because I feel it perfectly encapsulates the relationship I had with her and the bond between us.  It was taken during what turned out to be her last visit visit to the beach at Sandy Point State Park.  It was the place where she could run free, off leash and unfettered.  I didn't know at the time that we'd never go there again.  I didn't know it was the last time we would be at the place we visited so many times during the course of the last couple of years.  I didn't know it would be the last time we would sit in the sun on the sand looking out over the bay.  I'm so thankful we had that last time together.  It was a moment to cherish.  We were together and it didn't get any better than that.

I told Alexa I had seen these pictures and that it really made me miss her more than I already do.  She gave me a hug and asked me what I miss about Jersey.

I miss her eyes and the way they sparkled.  I miss the space between her ears where I could rest my outstretched fingers on top of her and not touch either of them.  I miss her up turned fluffy tail and the way it curved over her back.  I miss her crooked smile.  I miss her smell when I would bury my face in the think fur of her neck. I miss the way the two middle toes of both her front paws fit perfectly together.  I miss her black and pink tongue and the way it would flap out of her mouth when she ran.  I miss her snore.  I miss the sound of her eating.  I miss her bark.  I miss walking with her and exploring with her and experiencing life with her.  The list goes on.

I think of her everyday but manage to go about my business without a crushing sense of grief plaguing me anymore. However, there are still times when I get sad and miss her a lot.  Six months and six days later, I still find myself imagining her sitting on the top step of the deck as she looked out, gazing into the future.

Six months

My Jersey left us six months ago today.  It hurts.

This has absolutely been the longest, shortest period of time in my entire 50 years.

Life seemed to slow down that day.  It was like being thrust into a slow-motion movie from which I can't escape; it is like existing in the place between sleep and wakefullness when I can't figure out if the nightmare I had was real or just a dream; it is like not really remembering if I got out of bed in the middle of the night to turn off the ceiling fan; it's like having trouble distinguishing something imagined from reality.

I was in a car accident once.  The other vehicle jumped the intersection and T-boned my car.  I remember spinning and spinning around.  I remember looking through the windshield as the landscape around me passed by turning slower than a snail crossing a sidewalk; I distinctly remember thinking there was nothing I could do. Life crystallized in that moment.  Everything came into sharp focus and briefly became a snapshot of a moment.

That's what life has been like since she left.

As slowly as each day passes, life has gone on.  Each moment, each second, each minute ticks off as the next one begins.  I get further and further away from that moment yet I can't help but feel I've left something vitally important behind and that I can't quite reach back to retrieve it.

I continue to be numb.

Skylar came to us and I rejoice. However, I can't shake the nagging feeling that Jersey should be here with us, teaching her how to truly become a fully realized dog. She'll be fine though.  Tellie learned from Jersey and she is setting the example for Skylar to follow.  Tellie learned well, Skylar is coming into her own.

Even with all the commotion of Tellie and Skylar rough and tumbling and rolling around like tumbleweeds on the ground, even with all stumbling I do when I don't notice the toys they have left on the ground and I trip over them, even with all the excited barking when the two of them realize they are going for a walk or ride in the car, I am still haunted by the thought that something is missing.

This is what it's like for me.

Running shoes

Skylar has been playing with one of my old sneakers.  I gave it to her pretty soon after we brought her home.  My thinking was that if she was going to be a chewer she'd eventually discover shoes.  It made sense to me that she would be more inclined to play with her own shoe rather than hunt down another one.  Over the past few months she would sporadically play with it.  She'd pick it up and walk around with it in her mouth only to discard it when she would find something more interesting to play with. Her bones and balls and stuffed toys and socks and sticks and Tellie were all more fun than the stinky old shoe I gave her.  Until about two days ago.

I think she figured out that when she tosses the sneaker in the air it makes a delightful thud when it hit the floor.  She found out that it is a great chew toy; she realized that the sneaker tongue made a great handle to grab so she could flip it over her head.  She likes the tast of leather and has begun gnawing on the rubber sole. (Did you notice I got in a clever Beatle's reference?  Rubber sole, Rubber Soul?)

She has taken to running furiously around the table in the middle of the TV room with the sneaker in her mouth.  She runs until she gets dizzy and collapses on the floor.  After she catches her breathe she'll pick it back up and look for her boon companion, Tellie.  She'll poke her in the face with it in order to entice her to play.  "This is a really cool toy and I want to share it with you.  C'mon, let's play.  You take it and I'll chase you!"

Jersey used to run around the table, too.  She would explode for one reason or another and scramble, and skootch and scratch like a crazy dog chasing it's tail.  She would run even harder if someone would clap for her or try to chase her.  Jersey would run so hard around and around and around that the floor would shake.  She'd then blast off and run the circuit from TV room to kitchen, through the dining room and down the hallway, over and over and over while Alexa and I would encourage her with shouts of "Go Jersey!"  We would reach out to try and touch her and she would zig-zag away from our fingers. She would run and run and run until she, too collapsed on the floor panting and breathing hard.

I miss the rumble and shake of the floor.  As Skylar gets her run on, I see Jersey.  It's times like these I realize how much joy there is in the simple things like running in circles and chewing on sneakers and the connection it affords me to my Jersey