I've been accused many a time of being type A+ personality. A couple years ago, my friend Karen that has a rescue across the river called me the "posterchild for Obsessive-Compulsive Over-Achievers of America." She's probably right; I do put a lot on myself to always do better and be better. But a lot of that slid by this summer.
Back in June, I started going to work for my parents at the marina on the weekends, something I hadn't done in many years. I had forgotten how much I loved being on the water and what a difference it makes for making me relax. I had the joy of meeting some new friends this summer that helped me remember how blessed I have been to have a life on the water. I took to late night fishing out in the Atlantic, sitting on the dock watching the tide change, and tonight, even a sunset parasail ride.
But as Labor Day draws my summer to a close, I have to say goodbye to these great new friends of mine. It is something I got accustomed to growing up on Tybee; people float in for the season and haul out at the end. It's still never easy, and you always feel a twinge of sadness at their leaving. But you remember the fun you had and hug your goodbyes, always extending the invitation to return another time.
For me, I wonder if this will be the end of my weekly reprieves. True, working seven days a week has been tiring, but I feel less tired at the end of my marina work days than I do during the week. Perhaps it is because I know that deep down, I belong there, that this life I created to change the world doesn't have to be the only life I know anymore. I guess time will tell. For now, I'll enjoy the final celebration of summer with fireworks, good friends and family, and look forward to not having to have a plan for everything everyday.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Special Needs Shouldn't be a Death Sentence for Pets
Recently, I made an appeal for financial help for four of our pets (now five) that are needing extra medical care before adoption. One person wrote me that we were wasting our funds instead of using the money to save more animals that are healthier. To me, that's incredibly insensitive and ignorant.
First off, we don't know the needs of a pet until we get them. Would it make a difference if in their holding cells at animal control they held up a sign that said "I'm going to cost you $2,000 in vet care"? No, and it shouldn't. An animal should not be given a death sentence because of ignorance or cruelty of their previous caretakers. How can I look at Hope who had already had extensive medical care and needs more to treat her heartworms and tell her that, although she survived several years of intense neglect that she costs us too much to continue living? I can't, just like we fight as hard as we can for the puppies we take that turn out to have parvovirus but may not always make it.
We are rescuers. We're compassionate and sometimes our hearts overrule our heads. My job is to make sure we don't go too far in debt so that we can keep up with the care of the pets already in our programs. But I also see these special needs pets as educational tools to the public. Several times I walked Hope at PetSmart or the vet and had people ask what happened to her neck, why did she have a lot of skin exposed. When I tell her story, you can see the shock in their faces. If nothing else, it makes me feel like they will remember her story and maybe be more considerate of pets in similar situations and take action rather than let them suffer.
First off, we don't know the needs of a pet until we get them. Would it make a difference if in their holding cells at animal control they held up a sign that said "I'm going to cost you $2,000 in vet care"? No, and it shouldn't. An animal should not be given a death sentence because of ignorance or cruelty of their previous caretakers. How can I look at Hope who had already had extensive medical care and needs more to treat her heartworms and tell her that, although she survived several years of intense neglect that she costs us too much to continue living? I can't, just like we fight as hard as we can for the puppies we take that turn out to have parvovirus but may not always make it.
We are rescuers. We're compassionate and sometimes our hearts overrule our heads. My job is to make sure we don't go too far in debt so that we can keep up with the care of the pets already in our programs. But I also see these special needs pets as educational tools to the public. Several times I walked Hope at PetSmart or the vet and had people ask what happened to her neck, why did she have a lot of skin exposed. When I tell her story, you can see the shock in their faces. If nothing else, it makes me feel like they will remember her story and maybe be more considerate of pets in similar situations and take action rather than let them suffer.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Special Needs Pets Need a Little Help
We can all agree the economy right now is hard on everyone, but non-profits especially are feeling the pinch. At Coastal Pet Rescue, we're doing all we can to keep our services available to those in need, but we still need a little more support.
Coastal Pet Rescue currently has four dogs undergoing special and extensive medical care:
Hope
Hope is a very special dog. She was left behind when her family moved, and the landlord found her tied up in the yard on a chain. Sadly, she had spent so much time out there, the collar grew into her neck. The landlord left her at the Savannah Emergency Veterinary clinic. The techs fell in love with her and called Coastal Pet Rescue to take her. Hope was maintained on pain management and antibiotics and had her wound sutured before she was picked up by CPR.
Since her arrival to CPR, Hope was transferred to Georgetown Veterinary Hospital and her wound was re-opened to reduce complications in the healing process. She was boarded with GVH to receive ongoing, daily care for her wound and came home to her foster mom July 29.
Unfortunately, Hope also tested strong positive for heartworms. Given the severity and the issues surrounding her current state, Hope will be on Heartgard for three months before she can have her treatment. She will be under heartworm treatment for two months thereafter, at least. If everything goes right, Hope should be ready to be adopted between Christmas and New Year's.
Kuma
Kuma and her son, Kobi, were found wandering the streets. After two weeks of searching for an owner, they were turned over to Coastal Pet Rescue.
Kuma is a typical Golden Retriever, loves to give kisses and will follow you everywhere. She has gained weight and her fur is no longer coarse. However, she is heartworm positive. She has already received her first treatment. She will start her second treatment the first week of September.
Cora
She was found at a dump site during the rains of tropical storm Fay. Our president spent over a half hour gaining her trust to get her home to someplace dry with good food. Coastal Pet Rescue had her spayed and shots administered, however, it turns out she is also heartworm positive and will need treatment.
Junior
This sad little boy found his way to Chatham County Animal Control after being hit by a car and left at the emergency vet due to financial limitations of his family. Junior is getting around great right now, but is enjoying resting comfortably in his foster home and being nursed by his older foster sister. He is currently undergoing exams at Georgetown Animal Hospital to determine the extent of his injuries and the necessary medical treatment needed.
Please consider making a contribution towards their care. Even $10 can really add up for these pets.
Coastal Pet Rescue currently has four dogs undergoing special and extensive medical care:
Hope
Hope is a very special dog. She was left behind when her family moved, and the landlord found her tied up in the yard on a chain. Sadly, she had spent so much time out there, the collar grew into her neck. The landlord left her at the Savannah Emergency Veterinary clinic. The techs fell in love with her and called Coastal Pet Rescue to take her. Hope was maintained on pain management and antibiotics and had her wound sutured before she was picked up by CPR.
Since her arrival to CPR, Hope was transferred to Georgetown Veterinary Hospital and her wound was re-opened to reduce complications in the healing process. She was boarded with GVH to receive ongoing, daily care for her wound and came home to her foster mom July 29.
Unfortunately, Hope also tested strong positive for heartworms. Given the severity and the issues surrounding her current state, Hope will be on Heartgard for three months before she can have her treatment. She will be under heartworm treatment for two months thereafter, at least. If everything goes right, Hope should be ready to be adopted between Christmas and New Year's.
Kuma
Kuma and her son, Kobi, were found wandering the streets. After two weeks of searching for an owner, they were turned over to Coastal Pet Rescue.
Kuma is a typical Golden Retriever, loves to give kisses and will follow you everywhere. She has gained weight and her fur is no longer coarse. However, she is heartworm positive. She has already received her first treatment. She will start her second treatment the first week of September.
Cora
She was found at a dump site during the rains of tropical storm Fay. Our president spent over a half hour gaining her trust to get her home to someplace dry with good food. Coastal Pet Rescue had her spayed and shots administered, however, it turns out she is also heartworm positive and will need treatment.
Junior
This sad little boy found his way to Chatham County Animal Control after being hit by a car and left at the emergency vet due to financial limitations of his family. Junior is getting around great right now, but is enjoying resting comfortably in his foster home and being nursed by his older foster sister. He is currently undergoing exams at Georgetown Animal Hospital to determine the extent of his injuries and the necessary medical treatment needed.
Please consider making a contribution towards their care. Even $10 can really add up for these pets.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Tropical Storm Fay Brings More than Just Wind and Rain to CPR
It seems like it has been forever since I've seen the sunshine. For me, that's devastating. I love being outdoors, and lately, I've been spending more of it back home on Tybee. But alas, it is hurricane season and Fay had to bring all she could to our area, which means my home has been filled with dogs frustrated because they can't go outside and play and the smell of wet puppy for the times I drag them out to go potty.
So today, I worked from home. I made an attempt to watch Transformers on HBO, but it kept getting interrupted by all the tornado warnings. Then around 2, my email popped open with a photo of a puppy... taken by one of our board members at animal control. Unfortunately for me, it wasn't the puppy she had gone there to see. After two phone calls, arrangements were made for her and another officer to bring over four new pups to our program. It's still pouring sheets of rain outside, but luckily enough another volunteer came over to prep the house for the new intakes: one matted adult poodle in desperate need of a good bath, one 10 week old black lab puppy, one five month old flat coated retriever puppy, and one dog with a busted leg. What a halfway house this has become.
A few hours later, everyone is settled, I'm finally out of my PJs (was sporting the lazy look today), showered and headed over for a home-cooked meal since Wendy owed me for the new intakes. Wouldn't you know it, on my way over, I spotted three dogs scrounging for food at the dump yard. It's still raining, and I feel awful for them, even though I knew they wouldn't come to me if I stopped. But I just couldn't keep driving. I turned around, pulled over and grabbed my cans of food out of the back of the truck. Two dogs ran off, but one little girl waddled over to me, tail down but wagging a little. She stopped just a foot in front of me, head down. I held out the can of food, which she tried to take and run. I kept ahold of it, stroking her head and telling her what a nice girl she was. Her body changed... stood up completely, and her tail started wagging as a happy dog should. It was then I noticed her belly... and had to figure out what in the world I would do with a pregnant dog at home. I stood up to look in the truck for a slip lead, but before I could, she ran across the street after one of the other dogs. My heart nearly stopped as she was almost hit by a car. I called to her, begged her to stay put, but she just kept running off. I got in the truck and followed her, keeping a lookout for other traffic. I pulled off to a side road ahead of her, got out, and called to her again. She was wagging her tail but didn't want to leave her companion. He ran across the street again, and she after him. Not to be outdone, I stayed, trying to coax her back safely. Another car was coming, I called to her to stay put, as if she would really understand me. The car saw me and stopped, probably more afraid of what the crazy person in the rain sitting on the side of the road might do. I ran across and she just rolled over on her back, half in the road. I grabbed her and pulled her to me just as another car was coming from the same direction. I waited for traffic to clear, scooped her up and ran back across, putting her in the truck. I hadn't even bothered to notice that I had slipped and twisted my knee again, the same one I tore my MCL just a few short months ago. Maybe I'll remember next time that running across a busy street in the rain while wearing flip flops isn't the best idea.
We arrived back at the ranch and I got her settled in to an open kennel. I poured the remaining canned food into a dish and ran inside the house to get some fresh bedding. Before I got back, the food was gone, not even a drop left. I sat with her for a little while, reassuring her that she was safe and we'd take good care of her. She just kept wagging her tail and sat in my lap. I don't know if she really understands what is going on, but I know my heart is still pounding from the excitement. It's been awhile since I've gotten so hands on in the rescue work; usually, someone else just dumps them on my doorstep or calls to get them a ride. Even though I was soaked and covered in mud, I felt the best I've felt all week. And, I still made it to dinner afterall.
So today, I worked from home. I made an attempt to watch Transformers on HBO, but it kept getting interrupted by all the tornado warnings. Then around 2, my email popped open with a photo of a puppy... taken by one of our board members at animal control. Unfortunately for me, it wasn't the puppy she had gone there to see. After two phone calls, arrangements were made for her and another officer to bring over four new pups to our program. It's still pouring sheets of rain outside, but luckily enough another volunteer came over to prep the house for the new intakes: one matted adult poodle in desperate need of a good bath, one 10 week old black lab puppy, one five month old flat coated retriever puppy, and one dog with a busted leg. What a halfway house this has become.
A few hours later, everyone is settled, I'm finally out of my PJs (was sporting the lazy look today), showered and headed over for a home-cooked meal since Wendy owed me for the new intakes. Wouldn't you know it, on my way over, I spotted three dogs scrounging for food at the dump yard. It's still raining, and I feel awful for them, even though I knew they wouldn't come to me if I stopped. But I just couldn't keep driving. I turned around, pulled over and grabbed my cans of food out of the back of the truck. Two dogs ran off, but one little girl waddled over to me, tail down but wagging a little. She stopped just a foot in front of me, head down. I held out the can of food, which she tried to take and run. I kept ahold of it, stroking her head and telling her what a nice girl she was. Her body changed... stood up completely, and her tail started wagging as a happy dog should. It was then I noticed her belly... and had to figure out what in the world I would do with a pregnant dog at home. I stood up to look in the truck for a slip lead, but before I could, she ran across the street after one of the other dogs. My heart nearly stopped as she was almost hit by a car. I called to her, begged her to stay put, but she just kept running off. I got in the truck and followed her, keeping a lookout for other traffic. I pulled off to a side road ahead of her, got out, and called to her again. She was wagging her tail but didn't want to leave her companion. He ran across the street again, and she after him. Not to be outdone, I stayed, trying to coax her back safely. Another car was coming, I called to her to stay put, as if she would really understand me. The car saw me and stopped, probably more afraid of what the crazy person in the rain sitting on the side of the road might do. I ran across and she just rolled over on her back, half in the road. I grabbed her and pulled her to me just as another car was coming from the same direction. I waited for traffic to clear, scooped her up and ran back across, putting her in the truck. I hadn't even bothered to notice that I had slipped and twisted my knee again, the same one I tore my MCL just a few short months ago. Maybe I'll remember next time that running across a busy street in the rain while wearing flip flops isn't the best idea.
We arrived back at the ranch and I got her settled in to an open kennel. I poured the remaining canned food into a dish and ran inside the house to get some fresh bedding. Before I got back, the food was gone, not even a drop left. I sat with her for a little while, reassuring her that she was safe and we'd take good care of her. She just kept wagging her tail and sat in my lap. I don't know if she really understands what is going on, but I know my heart is still pounding from the excitement. It's been awhile since I've gotten so hands on in the rescue work; usually, someone else just dumps them on my doorstep or calls to get them a ride. Even though I was soaked and covered in mud, I felt the best I've felt all week. And, I still made it to dinner afterall.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Olympic Spirit
For the first time since the 1996 Olympics, I've been glued to the coverage. I have my friend Eddie to thank for that, as I hadn't watched a moment of it until he brought me into his addiction. But watching the sports reminded me of my Olympic memories.
In 1995, my parents got on board to help out individuals trying out for the US Olympic sailing team. We were flat broke; my parents had invested all their savings to start a dream life on Tybee. They gave up lucrative careers to build something for themselves and to give me a better life. We had no heat, no air conditioning, and no hot water, but we had hospitality, dock space, and plenty of room for camping out. My dad heard about the sacrifices so many of these athletes were making. One couple had sold their home and moved into an RV to help their son with costs for training and tryouts. So my dad put out an offer that any US athlete trying out or making it to the Olympics could stay with us for free. Being the small community we are here at the waterfront village, the shrimpers at our dock provided shrimp and two others had low country boil waiting on the dock each night the teams came back from practices and trials. I didn't realize back then just how much these athletes loved what they were doing. I saw them off every morning and greeted them every evening. Whether they had a good day or a bad day, they were always just thankful to be out there.
When the Olympics finally came around in 1996, we hosted two of the US teams, the entire Italian (FIV) team and its president and the Cayman Islands team which was being coached by one of the US teams we hosted during the 1995 trials. Once again, we were having nightly low country boils and talking about their days' work. I was treated to several trips to the Olympic Village downtown. I can't say anything has ever come quite close to that experience, being surrounded by the greatest athletes from around the world. Even though I only played soccer and had never spent much time on sailboats, I was in awe each time I got to go down there. I even got front seats aboard the coach boat for the Caymans team to watch the actual Olympic races.
This past Tuesday, I had the honor of attending a breakfast celebrating former Olympic athletes now living in Savannah. To listen to their stories, especially for the athletes from Mali and the Sudan, you could never quite comprehend the level of commitment and love for the sport. I played soccer up through my freshman year of college, but I did it for fun. I had no addiction to the sport, I just enjoyed playing. But these athletes made huge sacrifices, often going against the odds. If I only had an ounce of their dedication and passion, I wonder what I could really do.
I spent last night hanging out with my dad watching the Olympics at the Legion on Tybee. My mom is out of town for a family funeral, and it is the first time she's left my dad alone in 14 years, so I came to spend some time with him. My dad rarely talks, but as we were watching the Olympics last night, he started telling stories from our parts in 1995 and 1996. He glowed with pride to be able to tell others about how much support he was able to give to teams that left their homes and had hardly anyone here cheering them on. I never quite knew just how much that meant to him until he was sharing it all with me last night. He even still keeps the pennants all the teams signed up on our office walls. But what really stunned me last night was how much the Olympics actually bonded us. We were the ones here every morning to wish them luck and we were the ones here every evening to welcome them home. And last night, we were here once again, together, cheering on our favorite teams.
In 1995, my parents got on board to help out individuals trying out for the US Olympic sailing team. We were flat broke; my parents had invested all their savings to start a dream life on Tybee. They gave up lucrative careers to build something for themselves and to give me a better life. We had no heat, no air conditioning, and no hot water, but we had hospitality, dock space, and plenty of room for camping out. My dad heard about the sacrifices so many of these athletes were making. One couple had sold their home and moved into an RV to help their son with costs for training and tryouts. So my dad put out an offer that any US athlete trying out or making it to the Olympics could stay with us for free. Being the small community we are here at the waterfront village, the shrimpers at our dock provided shrimp and two others had low country boil waiting on the dock each night the teams came back from practices and trials. I didn't realize back then just how much these athletes loved what they were doing. I saw them off every morning and greeted them every evening. Whether they had a good day or a bad day, they were always just thankful to be out there.
When the Olympics finally came around in 1996, we hosted two of the US teams, the entire Italian (FIV) team and its president and the Cayman Islands team which was being coached by one of the US teams we hosted during the 1995 trials. Once again, we were having nightly low country boils and talking about their days' work. I was treated to several trips to the Olympic Village downtown. I can't say anything has ever come quite close to that experience, being surrounded by the greatest athletes from around the world. Even though I only played soccer and had never spent much time on sailboats, I was in awe each time I got to go down there. I even got front seats aboard the coach boat for the Caymans team to watch the actual Olympic races.
This past Tuesday, I had the honor of attending a breakfast celebrating former Olympic athletes now living in Savannah. To listen to their stories, especially for the athletes from Mali and the Sudan, you could never quite comprehend the level of commitment and love for the sport. I played soccer up through my freshman year of college, but I did it for fun. I had no addiction to the sport, I just enjoyed playing. But these athletes made huge sacrifices, often going against the odds. If I only had an ounce of their dedication and passion, I wonder what I could really do.
I spent last night hanging out with my dad watching the Olympics at the Legion on Tybee. My mom is out of town for a family funeral, and it is the first time she's left my dad alone in 14 years, so I came to spend some time with him. My dad rarely talks, but as we were watching the Olympics last night, he started telling stories from our parts in 1995 and 1996. He glowed with pride to be able to tell others about how much support he was able to give to teams that left their homes and had hardly anyone here cheering them on. I never quite knew just how much that meant to him until he was sharing it all with me last night. He even still keeps the pennants all the teams signed up on our office walls. But what really stunned me last night was how much the Olympics actually bonded us. We were the ones here every morning to wish them luck and we were the ones here every evening to welcome them home. And last night, we were here once again, together, cheering on our favorite teams.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Finding Hope
I've been struggling with what to write as so much has been going on in my life recently. But I guess it all starts at the crossroads.
In July, I left to spend some time in Cincinnati for the possibility of relocating. It took awhile to get everything squared away for the pups so I wouldn't worry while I was gone. I still found myself getting up at the same time every morning, and soon discovered that silence is creepy to me. I spent a lot of time by myself, reading a new book, and tanning out on the back patio. I laughed every day of the weather reports about the "heat wave" we were having. I was barely breaking a sweat. I spent other time working remotely, still checking emails, and making posts on the forum. I was there to ponder the possibility of spending the rest of my life with someone, but still felt terribly alone.
Since we first met, Aaron has called me type A+ personality. He's right. I can't ever just sit still; I don't really know how to. And that drove me nuts in Cincy. I felt guilty that I was there, having fun while others were here picking up my responsibilities. I missed my "kids," even their obnoxious behaviors and chewing up things that don't belong to them. I just didn't feel like me. I thought I'd be happy leaving Savannah, finding someone who loved me for all that I am, and treated me to wonderful times (I did at least finally get to go to my first Jimmy Buffett concert). But it just wasn't enough. As much as my heart had been aching throughout the long distance relationship, I actually found myself crying because I missed my home and the rescue. I was incredibly hurt that Cincy people were not friendly, waves and smiles were never returned, and no such thing as chit chat in stores. Even at the Buffett concert, where people had been tailgating for days (several Parrothead clubs made the trip), I didn't find reception to outsiders. I felt like I had no purpose. But the day before I left, I got my reminder.
We were on our way back down to the levee in Newport when my cell rang. The caller id said "ER Vet." I immediately panicked, not knowing if it was one of my babies or a foster. A familiar voice answered, and said they had a situation and wanted my help. I was quite relieved, until I heard the story. A dog had been brought in the night before by a landlord, apparently having been left by the tenants. She had been on a chain, for how long we may never know, but it had grown into her neck. The vet techs took to the dog immediately and started cleaning her wound, applied a bandage, and gave her pain medication and antibiotics. They told me they just couldn't turn her over to animal control, she was just too sweet. I agreed to take her when I returned from my flight at 9:30 the next night. I hung up the phone and realized I hadn't even bothered to ask her age, her size or even her breed. I think I was just so relieved to be reminded that I had a purpose in life.
And thus begins the story of Hope, the dog that reminds me each day with her kisses that we all have a place in this world, even if we aren't always sure we're there yet.
In July, I left to spend some time in Cincinnati for the possibility of relocating. It took awhile to get everything squared away for the pups so I wouldn't worry while I was gone. I still found myself getting up at the same time every morning, and soon discovered that silence is creepy to me. I spent a lot of time by myself, reading a new book, and tanning out on the back patio. I laughed every day of the weather reports about the "heat wave" we were having. I was barely breaking a sweat. I spent other time working remotely, still checking emails, and making posts on the forum. I was there to ponder the possibility of spending the rest of my life with someone, but still felt terribly alone.
Since we first met, Aaron has called me type A+ personality. He's right. I can't ever just sit still; I don't really know how to. And that drove me nuts in Cincy. I felt guilty that I was there, having fun while others were here picking up my responsibilities. I missed my "kids," even their obnoxious behaviors and chewing up things that don't belong to them. I just didn't feel like me. I thought I'd be happy leaving Savannah, finding someone who loved me for all that I am, and treated me to wonderful times (I did at least finally get to go to my first Jimmy Buffett concert). But it just wasn't enough. As much as my heart had been aching throughout the long distance relationship, I actually found myself crying because I missed my home and the rescue. I was incredibly hurt that Cincy people were not friendly, waves and smiles were never returned, and no such thing as chit chat in stores. Even at the Buffett concert, where people had been tailgating for days (several Parrothead clubs made the trip), I didn't find reception to outsiders. I felt like I had no purpose. But the day before I left, I got my reminder.
We were on our way back down to the levee in Newport when my cell rang. The caller id said "ER Vet." I immediately panicked, not knowing if it was one of my babies or a foster. A familiar voice answered, and said they had a situation and wanted my help. I was quite relieved, until I heard the story. A dog had been brought in the night before by a landlord, apparently having been left by the tenants. She had been on a chain, for how long we may never know, but it had grown into her neck. The vet techs took to the dog immediately and started cleaning her wound, applied a bandage, and gave her pain medication and antibiotics. They told me they just couldn't turn her over to animal control, she was just too sweet. I agreed to take her when I returned from my flight at 9:30 the next night. I hung up the phone and realized I hadn't even bothered to ask her age, her size or even her breed. I think I was just so relieved to be reminded that I had a purpose in life.
And thus begins the story of Hope, the dog that reminds me each day with her kisses that we all have a place in this world, even if we aren't always sure we're there yet.
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