Being a Proud Second Mom

Ok, so I don't have kids. Right now, that's a good thing as I sure don't have the room. But on Saturday morning, I opened up my home to two moms and their litters because I just have a hard time not giving them a chance after all they do to keep their puppies alive and stay with them.

One of the litters are three two-week-old puppies. Each pup fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. Their mom, Peaches, is only about 9 pounds, so you can imagine how tiny her babies are. But after I got them home, I discovered they had upper respiratory infections. Our vet was already closed so I called a rescue friend of mine in Bluffton. She nurses litters all the time, so I knew she'd have answers. I ended up loading mom and puppies back in the truck and driving to meet Karen at Petco in Bluffton. She took a look at the pups and gave me some pediatric amoxicillan for the babies. They would get it once a day and mom twice a day so she could pass it on to them through feedings. So back to Savannah we went.

I put mom up then set about to give the babies their medicines. They were so tiny, and even at that size, incredibly squirmy. You would think I could have better control, but I didn't. After a few minutes of a struggle, I finally got one cradled in my left arm, dropper in my right hand, and just watched as the baby nursed every little drop. It was so incredibly cute to watch him. When the dropper was empty, he made one more attempt to suck, then realizing he wasn't getting more, opened his little mouth as wide as he could and let out a big yawn. His little sandpaper-like tongue stuck out just an itsy bit, then he closed his mouth and settled into my arm. His eyes were sealed shut from the discharge, so we headed back to the bathroom where I got a warm, wet rag to gently remove it. He fussed just a tiny bit, but it was worth it. Even after I got it all out of his eyes, I noticed that his eyes were still shut. One of the other babies had his eyes opened already, and the little girl had started to open hers but she also had discharge that was helping to keep them closed. I took the little boy back to his mom, and proceeded to start the medication cycle with the other two babies.

For the next two days, I kept my eyes on them. I got them a snuggly bed that had been Hannah's when she was a baby. I put a small blanket on top of them, making sure they kept warm. Each time with the dropper they got a little better. Mom, however, did not. They really get their squirminess from her. She's 9 pounds of fireball when she wants to be, and medicine is not her thing. But by Monday afternoon, none of the puppies had runny noses, and my little crusty-eyed baby had finally opened his eyes! I just about squealed when I noticed it at medicine time yesterday afternoon. Poor Ryan was standing right behind me. Of course, he's just as much a sucker for little puppies as I am, which is why he volunteers at the ranch a couple times a week and takes puppies for playdates on the weekends. But I was just so proud of these babies. They had come so far; there had originally been seven in the litter, but only these three survived the two weeks at animal control. But now, they have a bright future ahead of them. No doubt there will be a rush to adopt once they are available. But for now, I'll enjoy playing second mom to them, watching them grow, seeing their little milestones. It's one of the pure joys of the work we do in rescue.

Finding Faith

It's a Monday. Like most people, I dislike Mondays only because my weekends are usually full of rescue work so I don't get to just relax and then I have to go back to work on Monday. This weekend was no exception.

On Saturday morning, I drove out to Springfield to Effingham County Animal Control to pick up a mom English Spaniel and her two puppies. I went to pick up 3, and left with 8. While I was in there, I found a young small breed mom and her three two-week-old puppies. Then I found a scared little Chihuahua girl who had unfortunately been kenneled next to two very aggressive ones. I opened up her cage and she darn near jumped out into my arms. No way I could put her back now. I got all 8 canines loaded into my truck and headed back in to pick up my paperwork. That's when I saw her.

Somehow, I had missed four dogs in outside runs. I later learned these are drop off kennels, where people can shove animals in when the animal control shelter is closed. I guess it is better than leaving them in the woods or on the street. Unlike the other dogs around her, she didn't make a noise. She just stood on her hind legs, poking her long snout through the chainlink as far as it could go. Her eyes showed so much sadness, but her little tail wag gave indication that she still had a little faith that someone could show her some kindness in her life. I walked over and looked her in the eye. She moved her head to the right, trying to get close to my hand. I scratched behind her ears and her eyes closed. Has she ever known how good that feels before? I could feel my eyes start to water. I've done this hundreds of times. I've said no so many times as well. I only have so much room, I'm only one person, my house is only so big. Then she got down, and I could finally see her full shape. Not one inch of meat on her body. One tear fell as my sadness turned to anger. How could anyone be so cruel?

Next to her kennel was a green leash someone had left when they dumped a dog. As quickly as I could, I turned it around and made a slip lead so I could get her out of her kennel. She didn't understand what I was doing. I put it around her, then opened up the kennel door. She stood there. I gave a tug and out she came, legs shaking and head down. She had no confidence whatsoever. I walked her into the animal control office and began asking questions. I was told she had been left overnight and they had just logged her in. I begged them to let me take her, but the law says they have to hold for three days. I asked that if I microchipped her quickly, since it would be in the rescue's name if that would prove ownership and I could take her. It was farfetched, but I was willing to do just about anything to take her right then. Of course I was told no, and as I didn't really want to cause too much trouble, I agreed that I would be back the first thing on Monday morning. I handed her lead to a volunteer standing nearby and ran to my truck to get out a can of food for her. One of the other volunteers told me she'd go get more canned food and make sure that my little girl would be fed just that. I gave them the instructions, small meals more frequently so she wouldn't gorge herself, and was promised they would be followed. I knelt down beside my girl and wrapped my arms around her, put my face beside hers and whispered in her ear a promise that I would be there exactly when the doors opened on Monday to get her home. I'm sure she didn't believe me, why would she? No one else has bothered to care about her before.

It was hard to let go, but I had to get back and get to the vet appointments I had already scheduled for these animals. It was after 10 am now and we had a 45 minute drive ahead of us. And it wasn't a quiet one. I couldn't take my mind off my little hound girl, hurting inside knowing how lonely she must feel. I had the sounds of crying puppies and a slightly cantankerous mom in the back. Luckily for me, we have some of the most fabulous vets that work with us, and Dr. Hassan and her staff agreed to see everyone I had in the truck even though my appointment was only for three. It only took two hours for them all.

We got everyone in the truck, back to the ranch and settled. A couple hours later, I got an email from one of our volunteers about some dogs at Chatham County Animal Control. I agreed to take two Chihuahuas that had been a breeding pair and were dumped off by their breeder, the female of which was pregnant, and an older Chesapeake Bay Retriever mix female. What's a few more, right? But all weekend, I just could not stop thinking about the one I didn't get, and for once, Monday couldn't come soon enough.

So this morning, I was up at 10 till seven. I had to get as many of the dogs out and fed as I could before my drive. I wanted to be there right when the doors opened at 8:30 am. As it turned out, I was nine minutes later. And it was raining. How appropriate. But there she was, still in the same kennel where I found her as there was no more room inside the shelter for her. I walked up, reached my hand through and smiled. I had kept my promise. She wagged her tail. I walked in and waved, a huge grin on my face. "I'm back," I yelled over the sounds of barking from the other kennels. My paperwork was filled out and we headed so I could get my girl. I decided to name her Faith. I had the kennel manager video my taking her out. I wanted other people to see what it's like those first moments that we make a rescue. For me, it's a huge thrill every time.

We got Faith in the truck and gave her a little food for the ride. Then we were on the road. I kept looking in my rear view mirror to check on her, like a nervous new mom. She would curl up in a ball for a few minutes, then get up and move to another spot. She did that for about 20 minutes before she finally settled in just behind my seat. I smiled again.

So here I sit, writing the beginning of Faith's journey towards a new life. I have her in a crate in my office so she'll have a lot of interaction with me and learn what it is to have someone care about her. I have to keep feeding her small meals; she eats everything so fast, obviously worried she won't be fed again. That usually takes a few weeks or longer for them to learn. But now she's curled up in a ball, sleeping peacefully. At 4:30, we'll head to the vet. I'll bet it's her first time ever seeing one. I'll almost bet money that she has hookworms, tapeworms and heartworms. But at least it's all treatable. She's safe now, and that's what matters.

Breaking the Christmas Streak

Ever since 1996, my Christmases have been anything but happy times for me. That year, I lost my grandfather on the 13th. I remember every moment of that day so vividly. I was leaving to go to school. My dad was driving me because I was going to be going to UGA for the School Art Symposium, where my artwork had been accepted. I was walking down the front steps when he came behind me and said, "Your mom just called. Your grandfather passed. We'll be going to Atlanta when you get back." Anyone who knows my dad knows he has the same straight face all the time. I've never seen my dad cry in my life. He's always been a solid rock through anything and everything that ever faced our family. I take after him for the most part, but do a lot of crying in private. Anyhow, after Pawpa passed, Christmas was never the same. Every December, something happened to me or a member of my family that just made Christmas time stink. My junior year of college, I decided to stop going to north Georgia with my parents for Christmas. I was more content to just ride it out alone. But a couple years ago I went, and on Christmas Eve, we buried my brother's father (we have same mom but different dads). It was the first Christmas I had seen my entire family.

This December started out just like all the other Decembers. I came down with walking pneumonia. The rescue was broke. I was broke and had no idea how I was going to pay all the medical bills which I found out my insurance wasn't covering. My freelance jobs had run out. Then my truck battery died... at 10 pm, as I was leaving to go get canned puppy food and puppy pads. At least it died in the driveway so I could stay warm in the house while I waited for my roadside assistance to come. But then something strange happened... the tow truck guy saw how distressed I was and at 11 pm offered to follow me to Wal-Mart where I could buy a battery and he'd replace it for me for free. It was so cold that night, of course, I am a wuss about cold most anytime. But the fact that someone was going out of their way to help me out, really changed my whole mood. I was so incredibly thankful to him. And from there, things started to get a little better: I had 8 adoptions in one weekend, picked up a freelance job, got well, and had beautiful, warm weather to give me more time outside, which I love. I even had volunteers from the Savannah Jewish Federation's Trading Places on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day who gave me a big break from taking care of the dogs two nights in a row and left us donations as well. But my big surprise came on Christmas Day.

My parents are very patient people. I can't imagine how disappointed they must have been to work so hard to keep me in Catholic schools for 12 years to see me grow up and not follow the path they thought. My mom really expected me to go corporate, like my brother did. He's been with the same company (though they've changed names umpteen times) since I was in fifth grade. My dad wanted me to follow through with my acceptance to the Coast Guard Academy. But I did neither. I sorta made my path as I went. I never expected that putting myself through college would land me running an animal rescue. It started as a hobby and grew into something so much more, but it's keep me from getting a higher paying job, most likely away from Savannah, and living in a nice, big home like my siblings all have or driving a fancy car. Maybe it's because I was the only child raised on Tybee that I don't have a materialistic drive. I'm content with making just enough money to get by every month (ok, so a bit more than that wouldn't hurt). But come on, what did they expect of me? I got to spend a lot of years without heat, air conditioning and hot water. I've worked since I was 13. If nothing else, my parents instilled in me a very strong work ethic and the drive to never do anything halfway.

So anyhow, back to why this Christmas was great. The weekend before, there were no gifts under my tree. Heck, I had been so sick I hadn't bothered to decorate the tree, but at least it was fiber optic so it had some color to it. My friend, Jeremy, left me a big, beautifully wrapped box, and my parents came and dropped off the gifts they got me before they headed out of town. Now my tree looked a little less bare. I even opened up my door one morning to find a box from a foster parent, and my good friends Heather and Todd left me a card in my tree. And they were all such wonderful surprises. My parents got me four things I asked for my animal rescue work: steel toe boots, cargo pants, a weather radio, and emergency roadside kit. But one gift they gave me that I didn't ask for: a GPS system. I was so excited! I called my mom that morning and nearly screamed. She told me it was something she and my dad decided I needed for all the places I drive for the rescue. That really meant so much to me. The fact that they understand where my heart is made my Christmas so much more special. Then of course there was the lunchtime cookout with Betty and Charles and my little Sparky, followed by a fabulous dinner with two couples from the rescue, the people who have become my extended family.

So, all these years later, I've once again found the spirit of Christmas. I am truly blessed to have good friends, parents who support me, and on occasions, strangers who will give a helping hand. So here's looking forward to next Christmas!

Forclosed and Abandoned

We all know it's a ruff economy right now. I've been watching as our donations trickled to nothing and adoptions halted completely. There has been nothing worse than having to tell animals "no" every day because we have no more room, no more money, and no help in sight.

But for whatever reason, when I got the call on Wednesday about two abandoned collies (actually shelties) at a foreclosed home in Ardsley Park, I just couldn't bring myself to say no. I was told they were skittish and there was no idea on how long they had been left there (I later learned that the house had been owned by the bank for at least 45 days). I was at work but agreed to come over that evening and trap them after my board meeting. I sat back and thought about it. How many of these calls do I have to keep taking? I've had several landlords give us pets after people were evicted, and poor Hope lived on a chain for who knows how long before the landlord came and found her. Too many people ignore a problem because they don't hear about it. So, I invited WJCL's Stephanie Simoni to join me and show people what is happening in our area and how the economy is affecting pets.

So a little before 8 pm I arrived. It's a neighborhood adorned with Christmas lights and beautiful homes. Lawns are perfectly manicured, vehicles more expensive than I can look at parked on the road. It's not a place I would expect to come for these dogs. In the center of all this is a dark blob, a house that once stood with grandeur and hospitality to guests now something that even Sherman would have ignored. Furniture, trash out on the front lawn and old appliances and boxes cluttered the driveway. I changed clothes, donned my hat and headlamp, grabbed a slip lead and the new Maglite my daddy had given me and began headed to the backyard for the rescue. I swear I could have watched this on animal planet. We could have used Jeff Corwin to navigate the overgrowth.

My heart sank when we got into the backyard. The pool was pitch black, and apparently the only water source for the dogs. There was trash everywhere. The only food available was what the real estate agents had brought that day. What had these dogs been eating all this time to keep alive? I crawled around, setting out food balls strategically, getting them to smell it and hopefully entice them to come near. After about thirty minutes we got a lucky break: we spooked them enough to run into an open door in a sunroom. Now it was just a matter of approaching them slowly to get leads on them and get them out.

I got the first one on lead, and she just cowered down. It took a little longer to get the second one as she kept trying to hide under things. We ended up carrying them out in our arms to the truck as they weren't willing to walk on lead. The whole way home, they never made one sound in the truck. I took their silence to be a good sign, possibly that of relief and hope. I made a quick pit stop for dinner for me, as it was already 9:30 pm and I had worked up an appetite. I laughed as I walked into Arby's and got a strange look: I didn't realize just how dirty I had gotten during our rescue, but I was wearing it with pride.

When we arrived back to the ranch, I unloaded the girls still in their crates into the back yard. I took everyone else out to do their thing then proceeded to ready the grooming room, aka my spare bathroom, for a bath. I didn't realize I'd be there till nearly 2 am. I did Ardslea first. Her's wasn't that bad. A 45-minute brushing with the Furminator got a lot off of her. She was so patient, never moved the entire time. It must have felt so wonderful. Then I put her in the tub and started the water. She got a little nervous, but after a minute just stood there. We latered, rinsed, repeated. No more fleas, no more stinky smell. The towel drying went well, until I brought out the blow dryer. Lord knows if she's ever been groomed before, probably not, but that poor little dryer took a beating once she got ahold of it. I settled for putting towels down in a crate and letting her air dry. I wiped down the floors and proceeded to get Parka.

I'm not a groomer, never have been, never will be, but I am awfully proud of my job on Parka. I sat down with scissors to start cutting her mats. I then realized one entire side was just on big mat. A few years ago, I had bought an electric razor to use on a cocker spaniel named Honey. I hadn't used it since, but was so thankful it was within easy reach. I spent an hour and a half shaving poor Parka's fur. Her tail had been matted to her leg and underside, forcing her to eliminate on herself. I can't even begin to describe the smell and what all fell out when I freed her tail. But like her sister, she just sat there, letting me do my thing. When I got all the matted fur off, I put her in the tub. Obviously tired and knowing that this was the best, she stretched her legs out and lied down, waiting for me to do whatever. We did two shampoos to help get all the stench off the poor girl. She had to feel 1000 times better by now. I will say that she took the dryer much better than her sister, but since she was shaved, there was also less fur to be dryed. I walked her in and put her in the crate with Ardslea and went back to clean up. I came back through 30 minutes later, and there they were, curled up with each other asleep. I smiled and headed to the office to upload photos and send a couple of emails before heading to bed. After all, it was 2:45 am and I'd have to be up by 6 to do my morning chores before heading to work.

I took Ardslea and Parka to Dr. Hassan at Georgetown Veterinary Clinic on Friday. The girls were nervous but at least walking on a leash now. Everyone at the clinic knew them already; we had watched the story on WJCL's 6:00 news together the night before when I was picking Levi up from his neuter. I left them to get their shots, heartworm test, and microchip and check to see if they were already spayed. Luckily, yes, they were spayed, but sadly, they were both also heartworm positive. We'll have to wait two months to start their treatments to give them time to get used to proper nutrition and people again.

I took them back home and to their own kennel space and began to put out their food and water. It was then that I felt something on my shoulder. I turned to look, and it was Ardslea, pawing at me. I sat still for a minute and she did it again. I couldn't stop smiling. I put my arms around her and hugged her, scratching her behind the ears and telling her what a good girl she was. I put the food dish down and walked away, knowing that the girls are going to be ok, and we did something really good this week.

Video online:
http://www.thecoastalsource.com/news/local/36434669.html