Merry Christmas, Sorry We Forgot to Invoice You Last Year

As we all know, non-profits are struggling to keep afloat in today's economy. It's the holidays, and while people are out hustling to buy gifts for families and loved ones, the gift of charity has fallen by the wayside for most. So imagine my surprise when I opened up my email this morning to find an invoice from VoiceNation for $4.05 dated May 2008.

Now, VoiceNation (who was VoicePlus when we first signed up with them nearly six years ago) offers a free Internet-based voicemail service to 501(c)(3) non-profits. This is a huge asset to us since we are an all-volunteer group without a central office. The service has had its hiccups, but overall, we've been pretty satisfied.

Last May, I attempted to start using it's Internet fax feature to fax pages from my Word Documents to our vets. I thought this would be great and help cut down on my excessive driving. Well, the service was a dud. I called and complained that my faxes were not being received, and that the service would make 10 or more attempts to send the fax and charge me for it. I was told that they had not had anyone else call to complain but that I would not be charged for the faulty service... but they forgot to add "until the end of next year."

I fired back an email that I would not be paying the bill from a year and a half ago for a service that did not work and we discontinued using. What they sent me back was a notice that my account had been canceled and our voicemail number disconnected.

Now, this is not the first time we've had them send automated messages in error, and I'm guessing that it won't be the last. But when I called to complain, and yes, I was agitated at this point, I was given an explanation as to why we got the bill in the first place:

"Our operations manager just realized that we hadn't been billing non-profits enough, so they are having us send out these invoices to try and collect for back payments."

Wow. I wish my other utilities would forget to bill me for more than a year. But I have to admit, I wouldn't enjoy getting a full invoice just in time for Christmas.

Something about this story sounds very familiar though... has a tinge of the Ebeneezer Scrooge feeling to it.

Well, after my phone call, I received a very short and simple email from them with the invoice as an attachment:

"Transaction was voided."

At least they get right to the point. I will say that at least the woman I spoke with on the phone said she was only following the instructions sent by her supervisor to close the account, but that she would fix it immediately for us. She was very polite and patient in trying to appease me, which I'm sure didn't help her to have a good day at the office.

I'm sure I'm not the only one with a Scrooge story this year. Is there a hashtag for that?



Invoice sent to my email this morning. You'll notice that I apparently sent a 134 page fax at one time last May, not to mention that the "Previous Balance" and "Current Charges" don't give the right "Total Due."

NYC Day Two - Web 2.0 Expo Bootcamp

I had forgotten how crazy conferences can be! We registered to attend a bootcamp today, Communilytics: Applied Community Analytics presented by Alistair Croll of Bitcurrent and Sean Power of Watching Websites. (They wrote a book together, Complete Web Monitoring, which I plan to pick up tomorrow.) The overall gist is how to track and utilize statistics about your online community.

The session started out with them telling us we had license to Tweet (on Twitter, for those of you who don't know that term). Phil looked at me and just about rolled his eyes. (I should also mention that at check in, they had ribbons we could add to our badges, one of which said "Twitter Addict." I have not put it on my badge as I have not yet admitted I have a problem. I will probably have come out of denial by the end of the conference.)

While our bootcamp was going on, so were a few other sessions. I kept the #w2e Twitter search going on my Droid (yes, I'm loving my new Motorola Droid and the 3g network up here) so I could get updates from other sessions. To save the noise on Twitter, I took notes in my notebook and only occasionally made a tweet or retweet.

The real highlight of my day came from a lunch meeting I had pre-arranged with Scott Porad of ICanHasCheezburger.com. I was going to miss his session tomorrow to go to David Letterman, so I dropped him an email to see if there was another time I could possibly meet up. I was shocked when I had an email back so quickly, and we connected via Twitter to meet at lunch. Such a nice guy, and I had no idea was also behind FailBlog.com (as well as 30 other sites). Scott gave me a package of ICanHasCheezburger buttons, and I put one on my lanyard (very cute). It's amazing how much you could learn about a person in 30 minutes. Scott has never been to Georgia (hadn't even heard of Paula Deen), and I have never been to Seattle. We joked about the little quirks that make our hometowns special, and he shared with me how he came to be part of ICanHasCheezburger (oh, check out the newest one, FailDogs.com).

Lunch came and went too fast. Scott was incredibly gracious and a lot of fun to chat with. I went back to my afternoon session, took some more notes, then came back to the hotel. After a nice, long, hot shower, I'm about ready to head out to the Ignite New York event this evening. I'm so glad it is only a couple blocks away; I have developed a small fear of cabs in the last 24 hours.

So, for those of you not attending, here's a few highlights from my 14 pages of notes:

There is no such thing as a social media marketer - communities are a medium.

Companies doing well are adaptive to their audience.

The US is 8th in social networking (Jamaica is #1, and I think it is actually my parents and their friends sending photos when they go down to party... I mean vacation.)

Online marketing made advertising accountable - community marketing builds trust.

Caring about your online community encourages self-support thus saving businesses lots of $ - cost of using an online community for support is $0.24 per instance vs. nearly $4 of using the phone.

It's ok to retweet and repeat your items 3 to 4 times per day.

Keep a search on Twitter of #yourcompanyname #fail.

The best time of day to tweet is 4:01 pm any time zone.

Facebook will overtake Google in unique visitors in the next five months.

Make lots of mistakes and learn from them.

Being talked about is nothing; being remembered is everything.

Books to pick up:
Complete Web Monitoring
Putting the Public Back in Public Relations

Online Tools to Use:
SpyFu
WatchingWebsites.com
Rollyo.com
TweetDeck
Facebook Lexicon
Twitalyzer
SiteVolume
Socialistics
Trendrr.com
Compete.com
Kissmetrics

NYC Day One

What a week this has been! First off, thanks to everyone who donated and joined us for the Yappy Hour Blue Jeans Ball last night. My understanding is that the total was right around $4500 for what was paid, and a few folks still owe us a bit so it should push us over $5000. I heard that Google gave the wrong address for the venue, so we lost some traffic (wonder if we can send them a bill).

I had a very early morning, arriving to Savannah International Airport at 5:30 am after having four hours of sleep. Most folks in line were quiet; it didn't take long to get checked in. I passed time playing on my new cell phone, though the Wi-Fi in the airport didn't work worth a lick (Phil says that's normal for Savannah).

We arrived to NY, and were actually over 20 minutes early. Our shuttle came, but we hadn't printed out the vouchers (just had the numbers on us), so the guy wouldn't take us. So we hopped in a cab, which I interpreted to be a filthy version of Disney's Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. The traffic was horrendous; I now understand what is really traffic. We arrived at our hotel... well, make that a hotel. Turns out, it was the wrong one. So off we go, hiking (thankful I wore my hiking boots after all) for about eight blocks. We arrive to find our rooms weren't ready. We leave the bags and head next door to a restaurant called Pigalle. I can't get over how loud it is in the restaurant for early Sunday afternoon. At least the weather was nice.

We retreated back to the rooms for afternoon movies and naps. Well, Phil worked in his room on our sites, and I took to learning new apps on my phone while catching up with my sweetheart. I would have liked to enjoy the view, but its just an old brick tower with broken out windows. Nothing fabulous to look at, though we are right next to the fire station, home of Ladder 4. Walking by there and seeing the memorial from 9/11 was humbling. I don't know if we'll make it to the site of the towers; I had been in them just nine months before, and still can't believe what happened.

We walked around until we spotted some place that claimed to have the "best pizza under the bridge." I normally don't care for thin crust pizza, but the double pepperoni with basil pizza at The Brooklyn Diner was outstanding! I was so full, I didn't even bother with ordering dessert (I know, that just doesn't sound right, does it?). I heard a song in the background, one that Austin plays that always makes my eyes water, so I sent him a quick text to tell him he was on my mind. I know this is a business trip, but I really wish he had been able to come along with me. I think we would have had fun exploring the city.

As it was, I had Phil, who knows my great love of chocolate, and in particular, peanut M&Ms. So he took me to my mecca... M&Ms World in Times Square. Three floors of every product imaginable. They even had M&M dispensers in every color imaginable and charged by the pound. It was hard to resist, but I did it. I wanted to get a souvenir, but I didn't see me wearing a T-shirt any other time, and although I'm wishing I had brought some with me since it is so much warmer than I thought, I don't really want to stand out as the tourist in my conference. So I walked out, and we went across the street to the Hershey store, which was quite the let down; only one floor compared to three at M&Ms World.

After a full evening, we headed back to the hotel to get some rest. After all, we do have to be in a worshop at 9 am, so we can't stay out too late tearing up the town. I will say I was amused to see a group of young men holding signs that said "Free Hugs" as well as Elmo, Mickey and Pooh on several street corners working for tips. I guess the recession has hit harder than we thought.

Turning a Pet Rescue Holiday Greeting Card into a Political Statement

It never ceases to amaze me how someone can look at something so simple and innocent and turn it into a political message.

I am originally from Austell, GA, but I always claim Tybee Island as my home. It's where I spent most of my childhood, learned the greater lessons of life, and became part of an amazing community. I was active as a volunteer for the Tybee Beautification and volunteered my time with the Tybee Island Lighthouse as well as Tybee Island Marine Science Center in high school. When I started Coastal Pet Rescue, it was no surprise that the first supporters were from Tybee. It's just the kind of community we have on the island.

Fast forward a few years. A local artist contacts me with a great fundraising idea for the holidays. We have been struggling hard because of the economy this year, and her idea helps us fill an need brought to us by a couple of other supporters as well. So Debbie Brady Robinson of Atlantic Beacon Gallery set out to create a holiday gift card that could be sold in sets of 10 with 50% of the profits going to Coastal Pet Rescue. The artwork features a sleeping kitty and puppy on the beach. Kitty is wearing sunglasses, puppy has a beach ball. It's a warm and fuzzy card, and something similar to what I buy each year myself.



So we sent out an email blast with the photo and link to the website for people to purchase the cards (only $10). An hour later, here's an email I get from a friend on Tybee Island:

Lisa, I’m simply forwarding this message to you as an FYI…..

From: email protected by my friend
Sent: Thursday, November 12, 2009 2:31 PM
To: email removed to protect the messenger
Subject: Coastal Pet Rescue

"Did you notice Lisa's new slogan? I think she's making a major mistake to take on this political issue and could lose the support of many people. As you know I have dogs and am a dog advocate but am more concerned about health and safety of my children and other animals, our bird population, clean water quality & beach preservation than having my dogs be able to walk on a leash at the beach. I hate to see the new council having to deal with the issue of dogs on the beach issue once again, when they will already have huge hurdles to address as they take office."

I have three issues here:

1. This is a greeting card, not a slogan. Our slogan is "Changing Lives... One at a Time."

2. Why is kitty in the image allowed to be on the beach, but not the dog. Isn't that discrimination?

3. Where in the world would I find time to create a subliminal political message, especially when there are fewer than 30 members on our email list from Tybee Island?

While I am often proud to say I'm from Tybee, here is one of the times that it hurts me to say so. Our little island gets so consumed by politics. Right now, there's a movement to try and get city council to allow dogs on the beach as other beaches in Georgia do. I have not spoken publicly, on my blog or anywhere about my feelings for or against this movement. I personally do not take my dogs to the beach; it's just my personal preference. But I am all for anything that helps strengthen the animal-human bond, which this group of supporters seems to be trying to accomplish. (And kudos to the Dogs on the Beach organizer who has done a lot of research on regional beaches that do allow pets to have some facts backing up his movement rather than just personal preferences.) Since I no longer live on the island, I really have no vote, and will have to abide by whatever is decided, whether it be by council or by city vote. Hopefully, some sort of compromise can be reached to satisfy both sides.

I would be lying if I didn't say that losing support from Tybee Island residents for our great organization dedicated to helping homeless pets because we allowed a greeting card to be made featuring a kitten and puppy on the beach didn't leave me heartbroken. But if that is really their deciding factor, then that is a shame.

So, to the original writer of the email, I'm sorry you were so offended by the holiday cards, but I am not going to ask the artist to change them. We are so thrilled someone wants to help us provide food and veterinary care to the animals in our program and be part of the solution.

So to all the rest of you, go buy these cards! We need your support now more than ever!

Coastal Pet Rescue Announces CoastalPetRescue.org 6.0

Getting in front of potential volunteers, donors and adopters just got a little easier for Coastal Pet Rescue.

For six years, the driving force of Coastal Pet Rescue’s adoptions and volunteer management has been their website, CoastalPetRescue.org.

“We don’t have a brick and mortar shelter, so we have to have a good way for people to find our adoptable pets,” says Lisa Scarbrough, Coastal Pet Rescue president and founder. “Our website is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and is what yields 90% of our adoptions each year.”

After six years, Scarbrough, who also works full time as a web developer and webmaster for Paula Deen Enterprises, decided it was time for a change. Development began back in April, and the new site was fully released today.

“Our website may look the same, but we’ve updated the software and made it more social media friendly,” says Scarbrough.

The site is now running on Expression Engine software, which Coastal Pet Rescue adoption managers have found easier to use for adding and updating new pets and information.

User feedback over the last year led Scarbrough to create separate pages listing canines and felines for adoption.

“Potential adopters now have a choice directly on the homepage to link to a full list of cats or a full list of dogs,” says Scarbrough. “The listings page now shows more information about each pet much like a roster to help families narrow down their choices.”

CoastalPetRescue.org now also features two RSS feeds, one for their latest news and one for newly added pets. Both feeds also automatically send out tweets so anyone following the organization on Twitter will see the updates.

Volunteers now have a more dynamic message board to help them plan and execute the organization’s events, and the site’s Frequently Asked Questions has had a complete overhaul with categories and more answers to help visitors more immediately.

“It’s been six months of hard work, both from the development side of the site as well as reorganizing and adding content,” says Scarbrough. “But ultimately, it was a change we needed, and I think visitors will be impressed.”

For more information, visit coastalpetrescue.org.

Founded in February 2003, Coastal Pet Rescue is an all-volunteer 501(c)(3) non-profit animal rescue organization based in Savannah, Georgia dedicated to saving the lives of homeless, abused and neglected dogs and cats in the Creative Coast Savannah and Lowcountry South Carolina areas.

Remembering 9/11 Eight Years Later

This morning, I caught my buddy Dutch Dooley talking on his Kix 96.5 radio show about the mixed emotions for him today. He knows it is a day of sadness for so many, and it should be a day we don't forget. But it is also his son's first birthday.

When I got up this morning, it had not dawned on me that it was 9/11. I was saying my blessings for the new home and family I now have, enjoying the sunshine. As soon as I turned on the radio, a tribute was playing on 102.1 with all the voices and soundbites of that day. I went from joyous to somber and began to feel the moisture in my eyes. I waited for the tribute to finish before channel surfing to find someone else talking about that day. It's eight years later, and I still long for that connection on this day that we all seemed to have with those around us, even if we didn't know them.

I'm only 30 years old, but I can remember every single detail of that day. Again, it was a day for confused emotions. I was in the middle of planning my wedding, starting my last semester at college, preparing for interviews for jobs after graduation. I remember jumping in the truck to drive to campus, and all the radio stations were just talking. The Cumulus stations had all linked up with Ben and JT and some others trying to describe the events as they were happening. It was utter chaos. So much was happening. It seemed I was the only person on I-16 that morning. I arrived to campus in shock. Georgia Southern is a big school, but you could have heard a pin drop. TVs were out in the hallways, students just stared in silence at the screen. A couple of classmates were from NY and were outside frantically trying to get through to their families, but all the cellular services were jammed. We had a family member at the Pentagon we couldn't reach. We would later learn he just missed the plane going through his office all because his secretary was out sick and he had to return his tray back to the cafeteria himself.

Classes were canceled for the rest of the day, yet people still lingered. I couldn't tell you the names of more than two people who were in that hallway with me, but it was a moment we all shared. It seemed safer to be around others. For the first time in my life, I took comfort in the surrounding of strangers.

I can remember the surge of American pride in the days that followed. Every store sold out of flags for homes and cars, we wore buttons and pins. We were really, truly united. Eight years later, I wonder what happened to all that. One massively, tragic event made most of us forget our own selfishness and consumption of our individual lives and instead get to know our neighbors and do whatever we could in support of our country.

So on this day of remembrance, I challenge you to not only remember those who lost their lives on that tragic day, or those who have been serving our country to protect us, but to also remember your sense of unity with fellow Americans. Take the time to say hello to a neighbor, get to know a co-worker better, or do one random act of kindness for someone you don't know. I promise it won't kill you, and it actually just might make you stronger.

To the Dooley family, I wish you all the happiness as you celebrate this momentous day with your beloved son.

Major Food Donation from Purina and the Kindness of Others

My eyes are actually watering right now as I write this. I am just so overwhelmed at the kindness of others to act quickly.

It was a last minute offer that left us scrambling, but thanks to the Internet, it all came together!

As a Rally to Rescue Ambassador for Purina Pro Plan, we are often offered free items, such as T-shirts and twice a year receive about 20 bags of dry adult dog food. We are always so grateful for the donations as it leaves us more money for other things.

On August 21st at 9:55 am, we received an unusual offer to obtain a large amount of free dog and puppy food. The catch was we had to place the order by 3 pm that day and guarantee someone we could pick it up early the following week. We could make a request of the numbers of bags and items we wanted, but would not be guaranteed a specified amount. The plant was located in Atlanta, and the offer too good not to try, so I placed the order and relied on faith.

On Thursday, August 27, I received an email that our order had been approved for 110 bags and ready for pickup. Sadly, it was a day after one of our other board members had already left the Atlanta area. I contacted our media partners, and within minutes Alice Massimi of WSAV had posted it on her Twitter. A short while later, Katrine Trantham, Director of Recruitment for SCAD, emailed me that she had read about our request, was already in Atlanta and would be happy to fit what she could in her car to come back home. I was thrilled! All that was left was to get a second driver.

Once again, the Internet came to the rescue. Someone responded via a Facebook post. Margie Jaques, who had already been an angel in getting us set up with office space, offered to drive, but lacked a large-enough vehicle. She called and priced rental trucks, and we determined it would cost us nearly $300 plus gas in rental fees. Then she suggested we try a dealership. I immediately thought of Savannah Toyota.

Savannah Toyota's general manager Chris Hafer has done for us in the past. Just earlier this year, he sent two of his guys to pick us up a donated chest freezer and deliver it for us to have a safe, sanitary place to store donated food. Again, he didn't disappoint. Margie was so excited to call and give me the news. Chris offered to loan us a cargo van and a full tank of gas at no cost, and insisted, "just bring it back empty; we'll take care of it." I was in tears when I hung up the phone.

Margie and her obliging husband Jon will travel to Atlanta tomorrow to get the remaining food, and we will have less of a burden in providing food for our foster pets.

It never ceases to amaze me what can happen if people just try and others offer up their time. So to all these angels who made this food donation possible, we all say THANK YOU!

Facebook: Insight and Validation for Free

I can't tell how many times I've heard people say Facebook is a time waster, Twitter is pointless, no one cares what you have to say, etc. Those who know me know I wholeheartedly disagree. And here's why.

A year ago, I joined Facebook. I had never been really keen on Myspace, particularly because of all the spam. But with Facebook, I was instantly connecting with people I already knew, and able to connect with people they knew that I wanted to know. But what really made the difference was being able to connect with these folks on a personal level. While many people might think the status updates are ridiculous, for others, it's a way to connect. If I have a question and need an answer, I post it, and I'm amazed at the responses, and, occasionally, I'm able to help someone else. I've been able to build relationships with people more than I could in five minutes at a networking event. Don't get me wrong, I don't think social networking could fully replace face-to-face networking, but it does allow the opportunity to pick and choose those relationships that can be more mutually beneficial rather than just going through a stack of business cards.

I heard on the radio yesterday a quote from Dierks Bentley (thanks Dutch): "Country music is the best therapy that you can buy for $15." For me, I'd have to say Facebook is the best therapy you can get for free.

This morning, I read a post from a family friend, Micheal Elliot. For those of you who don't know Micheal, he's the director of Union Mission here in Savannah. I've had the great fortune of knowing him since I was a kid as I went to school with his children on Tybee and at St. Vincent's. Michael has done such great work and inspired his staff and volunteers so well that the organization has been the recipient of several awards and major grants that allow them to provide much-needed services to our community. But it was his personal insight this morning that really struck me:

"Yesterday I was told that I am a very polarizing figure. 'People either love you or hate you,' he said.... I've heard some claim they are upset because Union Mission continues winning grants or awards and which they feel should be theirs."

While I hate that such an inspiring man would be concerned over this, I felt that my thoughts on this exact same subject had been validated. I have sacrificed so much for CPR, and my volunteers have given all they have to help us succeed as much as possible. We've won awards, received media coverage, and even been named as the top ten rescues in the country by Purina a couple years ago. And while that's great, it hasn't gone without backlash, sometimes in the form of gossip, other times posted outright online, particularly on Craigslist. And even though I was raised to rise above those things, it still hurts.

It was not his intention in his post this morning, but Michael offered me some therapy. He has allowed me to be a part of his social network, and in turn, allowed me to benefit from his insight. As the leader of a non-profit organization, it's not easy to find others in the same position that will have the same feelings. While our organizations are different in size, funding, and the services we provide, our personal thoughts and concerns are not. Having that validation really does make a difference, and maybe will help make me a better leader.

So thank you to Micheal, and all my other friends on Facebook who take the time to post your thoughts and allow me the opportunity to better myself. Perhaps one day, I can return the favor.

Donors, You DO Make a Difference

It's been a little while since I've written anything. I spend more time doing microblogging with Twitter and trying to stay on top of so many activities. But something really struck me this week, and I just had to share.

This last year and a half has really seen a downturn in our donations from individuals and businesses. So much so that I only check our mailbox every other week anymore. It's caused us to decrease the number of intakes each month, and I'm paying more out-of-pocket expenses for food and miscellaneous supplies. It's sad for me to have to say no day in and day out to people sending us information on pets needing our help. But I see that the guilt is not only on my end; donors feel bad, too.

I checked our mailbox on Monday to find three pieces of mail. I didn't open them, I just stuck it on the passenger seat in the truck and headed back to the office. Like I always do, I put the mail on my desk to be sorted through during my "office hours" on Sunday. But last night, for whatever reason, I decided to go ahead and open a few letters. I was ecstatic to find a few donations, but saddened at the same time to read the accompanying notes:

"I'm really sorry it couldn't be more. You all do such great work."

"I appreciate all you did to help me find my dog. I know it's not much, but maybe one day I can send more."

The donations were $25 and $10 respectively, and I couldn't have been more grateful. I have been down the road a few times where I couldn't even find $10 to put gas in my car to make it to work (back when it was under $1 a gallon). For these people who are obviously struggling themselves to still find a way to help others, it just absolutely warms my heart.

In a day when I see 20 Twitters a morning about stopping at Starbucks and knowing what that costs, then thinking what these donors have sacrificed to help our pets, I can't help but feel admiration for them. It may have seemed like such a small amount to them, but it really matters a lot to me.

So to those donors, I say thank you, not only for helping us to help our pets, but for reminding me that every little bit really does make a difference.

Love Hurts

Especially when you are trying to give love to something so incredibly neglected.

Tonight I learned a very valuable lesson: you can't save them all. I've always been optimistic about helping animals, especially with cases like Georgia and Hope. And I want to help out people who are so good to me, which is why when I got the call from a good friend asking for help, I agreed. We were out of space, and out of money, but I figured I could find a way to make things work. Sadly, I think I've found the end of that.

I agreed to take a dog. Unfortunately, I did not have the whole truth about the dog's past or medical history. Neither did she. I discovered it in bits and pieces starting at 6 am and going until 6 pm.... when I was bit in the face trying to do nothing more complicated than attach a leash to a collar. The pain brought me to my knees... at which point I discovered just how badly I was bitten. I was lucky two other volunteers were around to help out, and Hannah and DaVinci rushed to protect me as I walked in the house.

A quick lookup on the net gave me a number for the nearest immediate med. I called, explained I'd had an accident in my yard and needed stitches. They were open till 8, so I got ready to leave. Amanda helped bandage me up with some gauze to hold in place for the drive. I helped Josh corral the dog back into his kennel as best we could, where we discoverd he had torn apart a lot of the chainlink on the kennel that was just constructed on Sunday. So much for gratitude.

I got in my truck and headed to the doc. I prepared the story in my head. I didn't want to admit what happened, as I knew the fate, but I also knew that I could never trust this dog to not hurt someone else. I knew what he had done to me, but what about a child?

I had already texted our vet to let her know what had happened and get her take, and she agreed with me that considering the pain the dog was already in from his physical state, humane euthanasia would be the best alternative. She agreed with another board member that we would give the former owner the opportunity to take the dog back with a signed agreement and a formal report filed on the issue.

So as I laid (grammar nazis, have at me) stretched out on the table getting incredibly long needles stuck in my face to numb the area, I thought about my situation. I had indications first thing this morning that the dog was going to be an issue, but kept putting it out of my mind, saying he was just nervous and it wasn't his fault. It wasn't. This 95 pound dog had just a few patches of hair left on his body, was covered in sores, had fresh blood from scratching, and fleas still moving an hour after digesting a Capstar. This doesn't all just happen over night. He had only known two other people in his life, and at 4 pm today, it was admitted to me that he hadn't even seen a vet in three years. No wonder he looked so bad.

So five stitches and a dressing later (oh, and did I mention that my entire face wasn't numb, that I felt every little movement of the last stitch going in me?), I headed off to Walgreen's to get my antibiotics and pain meds. But my fun didn't stop there. Turns out my COBRA coverage was screwed up, so I had to choose which meds to get since I'm still on a tight budget from paying off my walking pnemonia bills in December. So of course I went for the antibiotics. I figured an infection would be even more painful later than what I was feeling now.

I'm fortunate enough to have people who care about me. Of course Austin was the second person I called after the incident, and he called to check up on me before he checked into bedtime. But it was my surrogate big sis that I ran to before going back home. I was angry and hurt, but couldn't cry as that caused more pain and would affect my stitches. Instead, we talked things out then set about contacting the previous owner. Luckily, she understood what had happened and that she was not in a position to take him back.

I wanted so badly to save this dog, turn his life around. But that want made me go against my instincts and cost me dearly (not to mention my entire evening, quite a bit of cash, and blowing my diet for the comfort food of Krispy Kreme as I awaited my prescriptions being filled). It was not his fault that his life did not turn out as planned. Perhaps his breeder should have cared to ask more questions of the family purchasing him. Maybe someone could have looked for help for him several years ago. There were a lot of failures along his way, and I accept my part as well. It is definitely a humbling experience as I re-evaluate what I'm doing and if I'm really saving them at all.

Reconciliation

Back on April 1, I was contacted by a SMN reporter that had been reading up on Georgia from my Facebook page.

Lisa, I was just reading about Georgia and wondering to myself, "How are you not perpetually angry?"

I mean angry at the world. At every human being in it for how society treats other living beings. I'm sure you've seen much more horrendous things than poor little Georgia, yet you keep going back to help more pets.

As the religion reporter, I'm just curious how you do it!

Dana Felty

I wrote back to her. She mentioned that she might contact me in a week or so to do a story about it. So I held off writing the blog. Now that the story has been published, here's my response with a bit of elaboration.

Trust me, I get mad. But getting mad doesn't fix the problem. I've used my blogs and Facebook as an outlet to help me come to terms with a lot of things. If you ever see me in person (that seems rare for us), you'll notice that I always have two charms around my neck. One is the St. Francis of Assisi medallion, the other is a starfish. (They are severely tarnished because I wear it every day.) The starfish is the reason I keep going back. You can read the story here.

Believe me, I have cried many, many times behind closed doors. I have had many conversations and pleadings with God to make things better. But I still hold that God has a plan. While I'd like a few clues every once in awhile, or even a legend key for the map, I know it's something I have to discover on my own.

These animals touch my life in such a way that they always make me a better person. With Georgia, she helped me open my heart to love, and when I was least expecting it, I found it for myself. She is a survivor. She is willing to love and trust and go out in the world with her head held high. We should all be so fortunate. I think dogs like her really help to keep me in my place, remind me of my blessings.

I'll be honest, I'm seriously thinking of adopting Georgia myself so she will always be around to teach people. She has an amazing spirit, and touches everyone whoever meets her. (Side note: I will NOT be adopting Georgia; I have accepted my official pet limit as 3.)

I'm not a saint. I'm not anything special. I still don't know how this whole world of CPR grew to be what it is. God made it happen. I was just willing to go along for the ride and see what happens.

What is a typical day in the life?

So Kelly asked me today to describe to her my typical day. Well, first off, there is no such thing in my world. But here's what I determined to be the best description:

Get up at 2 am to calm whatever puppy/dog is having a bad dream, got sick to their stomach, or needs cough medicine. Go back to sleep.

Wake at 4 am to take away whatever loud toy some puppy/dog is chewing since they woke up and can't go back to sleep.

Get up at 6 am to kick dogs out who have just been awakened by the neighborhood roosters that like to roam my property to the yard. Attempt to return to sleep for the next hour in between yelling at specific dogs to stop barking, play nice, or leave the back door alone and curse the rooster making noise right under my window. (A couple days a week, I have a volunteer that shows up in the morning and takes care of the dogs so I can get about an extra 30 minutes of sleep... if the dogs can be quiet that long.)

If this is a media day with WJCL (which I do twice a month), I'm up at 4 am to do my duties then clean up for the TV interview to be at the studio a little after 6 am. I return home by 7:20 am where I dump off whatever dog I took, splash some more water on my face, then head in to work early.

I crawl out of bed by 7 am to start feeding/administering medications for no fewer than 10 canines. Try to avoid newly-dug holes whereby dogs think they will be fed faster if they trip you and have you spill the food all over the ground as opposed to placing it neatly in their bowl. Ensure all water jugs are filled, which takes about 20 minutes per jug since we have a pipe leak somewhere. Remarkably, the dogs have yet to find it in all their excavations.

By 7:45, go to bathroom, wash off whatever dirt, mud, slober has been thrust upon me. Make myself presentable as much as possible to head to work as webmaster at Paula Deen Online.

Spend my lunch break returning phone calls and emails, usually someone needing to move, just had a baby, or just met the love of their life and can't possibly deal with all that and a dog.

Leave work between 4:30 and 5. Most days, the drive home means returning phone calls, where conversations are never done in 5 minutes or less. It also includes a stop off to purchase dog/puppy food, puppy pads, cleaning supplies, or whatever the dogs need. Inevitably, the trip is lengthen as whoever is checking me out always has to make a comment about why I have 100 pounds of dog food, 20 rolls of papertowels, and a few gallons of bleach. I throw in a bag of M&Ms to make myself feel better and get on my way.

Arrive home. Four days a week, I have the treat of having another volunteer on site to repeat the duties, but there's always more for me to do. This past week, I had to make stops each day to pick up new mulch for the kennels since the storms washed it all away and turned them into swamps. So I get out of my work clothes, put on my scrubs, and head to work. This takes a few hours usually, and always ends up turning my skin and clothes a completely different color.

On other days, I may have an event to go to for work. Which means I'll get home pretty late. And still other days, I attend business networking after-hours functions to remind people we need sponsors to help care for these pets. And still other other days, I may be running a pet to a vet visit, or heading to do an adoption interview.

Once I'm settled at the house, I head into my office to start on our paperwork and respond to emails. There are lots of records to be kept, adoption packs to be made, bills to be paid, and thank you notes to be written to donors, sponsors, anyone who might have even been nice to me that week.

On an average day, I'm in bed no earlier than 11:30 pm. But I take my laptop to bed to finish up whatever I was working on in the office, so really, it's more like 1 am when I get to "sleep."



And if you are curious about my weekends...

Most all our weekends are filled with adoption or fundraising events. The third Saturday of each month, we do an adoption day at Petco in Bluffton. This means I'm up by 7 to perform daily duties for the dogs, then load the truck for the event, drive over, and set up to be ready to show pets by 11 am. I'm there until 4 pm, then drive home, unload the truck, tend to the dogs, and make the deposit ready from whatever donations we may have received.

Some Saturdays, I teach Pet First Aid and CPR for the Red Cross. That only takes up four hours of my Saturday. Other Saturdays, I drive to Hinesville or Springfield to pick out animals from their animal control for adoption. I try to take Saturday evenings for myself, spending time with Austin or my family or both.

Sundays are work days at the ranch. This is when we host youth volunteers, community service workers, whatever. We do dog baths, take photos of new pets (oh yeah, guess I forgot to mention that during the week I also pick up animals on my way home from work to come into CPR), work on the kennels, whatever needs to be done. This is also when I work on the content for our newsletter that Heather sends out each month and try to sort through and clean up the 3,000 emails I might have received that week (that is not a joke; I just did that this past Friday and it sucked!). I also spend this time writing my column for the Tybee Breeze, my blog, and other sites where I contribute content online.

Some weekends, I also work for my job. On Sunday, I will be leaving at 5 am to drive to Atlanta for a cooking show where Paula is going to be. I don't even have a clue as to what time we'll be home.


But then again, what is "typical" anyhow?

A Hard Working Woman Working Hard for The Lady

By now, most of you know I have changed jobs after more than 7 years. I'm still in web development, but I'm now with THE Lady of Savannah... the one and only Paula Deen. I'm the newest webmaster in the Paula Deen Online family and boy, what a family!

While I still haven't gotten my commute completely figured out, I have already noticed so many other changes. Since I have such trusting and dedicated ranch hand volunteers, I'm able to not worry about rushing home. I even have time to spend with my personal dogs now, something that had been incredibly short most all other nights until recently. My stress level has dropped drastically, and I just overall feel like a better person. This is a company that wants to see its employees grow and succeed, and I'm so privileged to be a part.

All that said, I do have one gripe: I know NOTHING about cooking. I have one recipe that I do on a grill, and only for special occasions. But no way would I ever dare put it in front of The Lady. I spent the last two days pouring through the recipes on the website, and even got to select those that appeared on the front page this week and their categories. You'll notice my favorite treat, Brownies, are all listed. Of course, those were the first ones I hunted. I next chose two categories I thought I might stand a chance at making without too much fuss, so we have chilled drinks (which Phil made me change to Party Potions) and fruit-based salads I called Fruity Salads (yes, I'm that creative). But I noticed as I was going through that some of these have a cook time of 8 hours, good grief! While I might think my patience has gotten better as I've gotten older, sadly my willingness to wait to eat has not. When I come home, if I'm gonna cook, it better take 30 minutes or less. That's all I'm giving. Luckily enough, I found several recipes that can be done in half that time (tune in later this month to see them). So there may be hope for me yet, even if I am still waiting for the Paula Deen Cooking for Dummies book (no, it's not in the works, just an idea I think I need for me).

I had never imagined just how much takes place behind the scenes. Let me tell you, it's rarely quiet in the building and there is ALWAYS something to do. But that's a good thing as I need the job security!

Now I'm not privy to any special secrets or information, so please don't ask. In fact, I've only once briefly met Paula Deen in a roundabout way at The South Magazine party last year when her niece was named hottest bachelorette and CPR was named Top 5 Non-Profit Changing the World. I only know from the stories I hear that she and the boys are just as gracious a Southern family as you would imagine. I'm very blessed to have been recruited to join their team.

And, for the record, I've been saying "Y'all" since I was a little tyke, so don't go saying I learned it just to fit in!

Georgia's First Day with the Media

There's no question how much I love dogs, particularly my rescue dogs. So when Georgia came to me, it became apparent she had so much to teach people. So I scheduled an appearance with WJCL to appear with her on their morning show. Being that I'm not a morning person, this is a big deal for me, meaning I'm up at 5 am. Sure, if you're military, that's nothing, but I have Tybee Bum in my blood, and I despise being up before the sun. Georgia, on the other hand, had no problem whatsoever getting up and going for a car ride. She's finally learned to get herself in and out of the rescue mobile without my assistance. She always sits happily just behind my seat, her head resting as close to my shoulder as possible.

The drive in was very peaceful, though odd as I could still see the full moon. I wasn't 100% sure how she would react to a TV studio, but she was a natural. Through our walks each day, Georgia has learned to love the attention of other people. Since the WJCL set is in transition, I would have to sit at the anchor desk while Lyndy held her beneath us. I was in her line of sight the entire time, but it didn't matter. The cameras, the lights, nothing phased her so long as she had someone's hand on her making her feel special.

She seemed a little reluctant to leave, already feeling like a star. We drove home and arrived in time enough for me to take a nap before having to get up and go into the office. Georgia would have a good long rest before her next media appearance that evening.

We arrived at JF Gregory right around six. Georgia knows this place well, and immediately started pulling me like a sled towards the path we walk. She braved the swarms of gnats to roll around in the grass while the photographer from the South Magazine snapped shot after shot. At the end of the hour, we walked to a different part of the park, where Georgia drew the attention of a very famous dog.

Barley, the Budweiser Dalmation, decided he had found a new playmate. Georgia did not know what to think. We watched as this dog ran into the middle of our photo shoot, stared at Georgia, then flopped over onto his back and barked. Georgia just stood there. We have worked at getting her comfortable around other dogs at the ranch, but she hasn't once played. Barley didn't know this. He would jump up, bark, run around Georgia, then flop down on the ground again and wait for her to do something back. About the eighth time, she finally took her paw and swatted at his snout. Barley took it as a sign that she was ready to play. He ran around her, sniffing, play biting her leg, till she finally gave in and did something back. For about ten minutes we watched Georgia interact with Barley as if reconnecting with a long-lost friend. I was so proud, I almost cried. Nothing could make me happier than seeing her smile.

Welcome Home, Georgia

The bed has an unusual smell and silly patterns on it. But it's soft under her frail body. Within 20 minutes of her arrival and placement into a crate, Georgia has curled up into a ball and settled in for a nap.

Anyone who knows me knows I love Huskies. It's been the hardest thing to turn them away the last few months since we have no more room, but it is a sad fact of our world right now. But when I got the photos of Georgia two days ago, there was just no way I couldn't open up one more kennel space for her.

The email came through to me as "Husky In Need" from a fellow rescuer. She assured me that I was under no obligation to take the dog on, knowing she was going to need a lot of care. But that has become our specialty. All I could see in the photos was some group of fur. All the huskies I've ever known were proud dogs, always had their heads high, smiles almost back to their ears. This dog had her head down, almost ashamed at her pitiful appearance. I was assured she had someone to foster her, so we just needed the financial backing. I agreed. I knew it was a bad thing when I got a personal email from the vet, outlining all her problems. So I decided, given all the care she is going to need, and the length of time it was going to take, to bring her out to the ranch. So I picked her up from Tybee after my dentist appointment this afternoon.

I'm used to dogs pulling on leashes, but Georgia didn't know what was going on enough to realize she could pull if she wanted to. I opened up the truck door and put her inside. We were low on gas, so I stopped before leaving the island. I couldn't quite place the name for her. I thought of beach names since I picked her up from Tybee, but that wasn't her original home so it didn't seem to fit. Her coat reminded me of Georgia red clay... so Georgia it became. I got back in the car, turned to tell her we had a long ride home so she should get comfortable. I got a quick kiss on the face.

We drove home. I had so much on my mind... what was she going to do with the other dogs, would her fur ever grow back, what about the complications for having her spayed, what all was on the list Dr. Pam emailed me. True, we could treat more dogs with fewer conditions for what she's going to cost us, but is that really fair? We just went bankrupt on the litter of puppies from the cardboard box that had parvo. In what we do, there is never a sure thing. Even "owned" dogs come to us with issues. No one's perfect.

When we arrived to the ranch, I got the camera out to take photos. The sunlight hit her coat perfectly, but it also made it easier to show all her baggage: missing fur, permanent scars, skinny frame. All this in just two years just so she could make a profit for someone. Sadly, Georgia is not atypical for backyard breeding dogs. We've seen lots of them come through. Luckily though she is eager to be touched and petted and give her kisses to anyone who will accept them. We found the only can of adult food as she has only a few teeth that need root canals and can't really chew. She hasn't even touched her food. I'm hoping she will realize that we will always feed her and make sure her belly is full. But I know from experience, these things take time.

In an attempt to soothe her rough skin, I gave her a bath with some medical shampoo tonight that does a lot to help stop itching. Like most dogs, Georgia was not keen on the idea of a bath. I knew she had one over the weekend, but it was probably her first one ever. Part of using the medicated shampoo is that it has to sit on the skin for 10 minutes. I had forgotten my cell phone, so I decided I'd sing a few Jimmy Buffett songs to pass the time. I didn't have a radio, but knew plenty by heart. After five songs, I figured she'd suffered enough and ran the water again. The sudden sound made her jump... right over my shoulder. I caught her mid air before my back hit the toilet behind me. The floor needed a good scrubbing anyway, so the suds everywhere didn't hurt anything. We finished the bath, and she tolerated the blow dryer. By tolerated I mean she tried to run through my legs and out the door but I caught her and held her like my own thighmaster.

I put her back in her crate. As if I hadn't tormented her enough, I had to now give her eye medication and a capsule. Normally, I'd put the pill in a treat and give it to the dog. No, instead, Georgia mouthed around the treat part, trying to figure out how to eat it without the pill. It wasn't pretty. Apparantly, she also decided she no longer wanted to smell like cucumber and spent 30 minutes trying to like off the smell until she wore herself out and crashed.

It's my hope that as we work with Georgia, people will become more educated about what happens to the dogs used to produce those cute little puppies at the flea markets and in the classified ads. Maybe one day we can actually stop the cycle.

We All Need Those Feel-Good Moments

**ADVISORY: This blog took a bit more time than usual... over an hour and a half since I got engrossed in the moving Taking Chance (incredible, be sure to watch with tissues or a sweatshirt handy). It's a normal Lisa diatribe, but maybe a few bits here and there worth something.**

Anyone who knows me, or knows of me, by now knows that I don't have a typical day from one to the next. Not that I know anyone who really does, but my life tends to stay on the merry go round. Sometimes I can set my own pace, other times, I'm at the mercy of the playground bully. Some days, I just have to close my eyes and hang on as tight as I can, and pray I can stand up straight enough to kick him when I get off.

Last night, I got to play Dress-Up Barbie. I was invited as a guest of Memorial Health to their table at the Addy Award (big kudos to them for winning a gold for their trauma funding video documenting reactions from Memorial's workers during the Imperial response). I am always nervous about these types of events. For the most part, I'm not a glamorous person. I prefer flip-flops, tank top and shorts. So when Lisa told me I was going to have to go formal, I freaked. I didn't get a chance to even look in my closet until 11 pm on Thursday. I had two choices, only because I've had to do it two years ago, twice in one year.

I was able to get a sitter for the dogs so I could just leave from work and go to the soiree, but it meant taking my clothes, makeup, brush and all that jazz with me to work. At 5, I asked my co-worker if she needed in before I changed, and in I went. If only there was a way our bathroom worked like Superman's phone booth. Twenty minutes later, I came out, and surpised the heck out of my boss. The dress was a little big, but I had it tight as I could. But as much as I startled him, I figured it wasn't bad.

I drove down, and walked in to the event. I was early, way early. And without a date. But, afterall, it's a Savannah event, and a few short moments later, I found my way to some friends.

The evening was fun, thanks in part to a dinner companion with as twisted a sense of humor as I have. And the food was worth all the dress up: lobster, filet mignon, and decadent brownies.

I headed home, exhausted, but still had to finish getting everything ready for our big event in Richmond Hill. We had to cancel the Bluffton event. Those are hard to staff most months anyhow, so I think folks were relieved to not have to make the drive. I got so busy working, I forgot I was still in a cocktail dress, until Hannah started batting at it.

Around 1 am I finally crawled into bed. Just like clockwork, Cookie (aka Samoa) woke at 2 to go potty. I had forgotten to take her out before I went to bed. My mistake, not hers, and I was paying for it in the cold.

Mornings always come too soon at the ranch. But for the last two months, I've been blessed to have two fabulous ladies take over my morning duties so I can catch a little extra sleep before work. Saturday mornings on event days are the worst; I'm usually by myself and have to get up extra early to get the dogs out, fed, cleaned up, and put in crates for our travels to whatever event plus play Tetris with the rescue-mobile before heading out, usually at 9 am.

So like most mornings, I got up, stepped on Vinnie's tail since he had changed the way he was facing since we went to bed, grabbed my robe and proceeded along my task list. By 8, I was somewhat dressed, and by 8:30, reinforcements had arrived. What angels! We assembled the vehicles, got crates loaded, and headed down to the Hill. There's nothing quite like a day of doggies, and more importantly, we had been welcomed with open arms by another group. There were other rescues there, all sharing stories about dogs, asking about some of ours they had read about. I had gotten Purina to send down water bowls, samples and shirts for the event, so we distributed them out.

The day was great: four solid applications and 27 canines came through our microchip clinic, including a few that tried to take my hand off. I drove home, excited about the prospects for adoption, but tired as all get out. Tina, my constant angel, came back with me and stayed behind to take care of the pups and make sure everyone's crate was nice and clean. I went to the office to check emails and start on adoption packs. It was then that I got an email that just brought tears to my eyes.

Many of you remember Hope, our Carolina Dingo mix who came to us with an embedded collar. A friend of mine fell in love with her photo in December not long after her beloved Rottie had passed. She offered to foster Hope for us when she returned from the holidays. She did... and fell in love with her. This week, she decided she was ready to make the commitment. In my inbox today, I found the most heartworming letter I could have ever asked for. I'm giving just a sample here, but treasure every single word she wrote:

Miss Hope is full of surprises! She is a powerful teacher. I expected her to be broken down, tired, and old beyond her years. After two heart worm treatments, intestinal worms, an embedded collar, ears tattered by flies, dog attacks, and years of neglect and abandonment, that would seem reasonable. But Hope has defied all odds. She glides gracefully through the air at lightening fast speed as she runs laps around her new back yard! She is young at heart, vigorous, and charged with energy. Her ability to give and receive love is amazing. As I write our story, she is curled up next to me on the couch, radiating a calm peacefulness.

"We all have a past. It’s impossible to make a way in this world without hurtful experiences... Hope knows about what it means to heal, and forgive and forget, and to feel safe enough to accept love. She has a strong spirit. Both of my dogs have enriched my life. I will never forget Train. His death was the end of an era for me. As I look into the future with Hope, it seems that she is picking up where Train left off. She is teaching me what it means to find my own strength. We are both rescues."

What an amazing day. That was until I got further into my emails to read something that just set me off. Two months ago, a woman was denied adoption for one of our dogs. In that time, our adoption coordinators have changed, and due to people's crazy work and family schedules and my having to go back to work full time, we're not as on top of things as we used to be. We try, but we make mistakes. This person engaged me in a couple of emails about a dog that we would not be releasing for adoption until next week. I initially had her confused with someone else and told her that we had cancelled the app for lack of response to our phone calls or emails. Then this week she started hounding me about meeting up with the dog. The pup was in the process of being brought back to me as she was not being nice in her foster home. I know I've been long winded, so to shorten it up, I was not as detail-oriented to this woman's emails as I probably should have been. She asked us about our adoption days this weekend, I told her when they were but also told her that due to the dog's attitude, she probably would not be there as we like to create a harmonious environment as much as possible. Then late last night, we cancelled one event. So in the email I received, I was critized for not telling this woman that since the event was cancelled where else I would have the dog she wanted to see available. Let's try to remember that on our adoption applications it specifies that applicants meet the dogs once their application is approved. We cannot bring every single pet to every adoption day; we just don't have the manpower to do so. I had grown very tired of the emails. So I went through our archieves and found that she had originally been denied on January 7th and sent a notice. So I informed her of this, and again stated that we are an all-volunteer organization and apologized that she felt frustrated. This was what I got:

"Just because you are a volunteer does not excuse your poor performance. You keep beating that drum, but I never asked you to work for free. If I need to pay for your services, then speak up and tell me, but don't act like the world owes you something. If you don't want to do it, then quit!

If you are doing this for recognition or a pat on the back, the you are doing it for the wrong reasons. The ones that suffer are the pets that you could be placing instead of reminding everyone what great deeds you're doing.

If your true intent is to place an animal in a loving home, then put me in touch with someone who can actually help me. If not, quit wasting my time.

Thank you for your time and I hope you find the recognition you think you so richly deserve."

So as I was driving Duke to his new home tonight, I pondered that. What would life be like if I did quit? I could have the convertible I missed so much, probably live back on the water, maybe go grocery shopping on a more regular basis, heck I might even get back into cooking for myself (I know, it's a stretch, but it could happen). A friend of mine was kind enough to take my call during my reflection time, and I became so engrossed in conversation, I missed the directions from my GPS, which reminds me of a female version of Ben Stein. I abruptly hung up on him, anxious to get Duke into his home, for what I thought might be my last adoption.

I noticed the homes as I drove in. Lots of front porch lights on, clean neighborhood, two story homes. The kind of place I might live if I didn't have to have so much land for 99 dogs. I parked, flipped on the interior light to find my adoption stuff, then got out to get Duke and his carrier. I gave him a little pep talk, reminding him that he had been a street dog hanging out with the wrong crowd and this was the ticket to change his life. He did his little feet stamping thing, whined a little bit, then settled down. We walked up to the house (I felt a little guilty walking through their perfectly manicured lawn, trying to remember what it was like to have grass at home before the dogs took over landscaping duties), and rang the doorbell. I thought I heard a small dog, but didn't remember reading about them having a current pet on their application. Instead, it was their youngest daughter who immediately opened the door and stretched her arms to get him. Yes, he was going to have it made... three young girls to dote on him every waking moment of every day. It's what every dog deserves.

I joined the family in the living room, all of us on the floor to greet little Duke to his new home. Before I could open his kennel door, the oldest girl reached out and handed me something. "This is so you never forget him," she said. I looked down. In the few short hours since I had seen them at our adoption day, this young lady had taken great time to draw me the perfect picture of Duke, along with his new crown and cape and a food bowl that said "The King." She mounted it to yellow construction paper and wrote the words "Thank You!" all around it in different colors. It took all I had not to start weeping. If she only knew how badly I needed that.

We finished the adoption, said our goodbyes, and I drove home, happy to have the recognition I "so richly deserved."

Lisa the Grump

We all have those off days. Yesterday didn't start out being one of them. I got to work, still missing staying home with the pups but thankful I still have a job, and settled in to work. No real pains to be dealing with first thing, which is always great. I took my truck over to Savannah Tire to have the tires checked. It's nice that they remember me, but even better that it was my first visit to not get a tire patched or replaced. I then headed over to Cha Bella to pick up my to go order, said hi to several folks I knew, chatted at the bar a little bit, and then headed back to work where I got to enjoy birthday cake for a co-worker's big day. All was well with the world. Well, until just after 5 pm.

I invited a friend of mine to join me for the travel to Ridgeland, SC. I was excited: we were going to pick up the new CPR trailer. It's nothing real special, but will be a huge help for us on event weekends and food pick ups. The travel over was relatively easy. We met up with Karen at Maranatha Farm, the rescue selling us their old trailer since they had a new one. She took us on a tour of the property. We watched the dogs play in their pond, and I met little Cookie (now Samoa). Since she was already vetted and recently returned by an adopter, I offered to take her back to CPR so Tori would have a playmate her size. Besides, she's adorable and would be adopted quickly, I was just sure of it. Then the time came to hitch up the trailer. I had just spent two hours with U-Haul the day before getting this $400 monster thing installed. Well, getting it on the ball wasn't so much the problem as having all the lights working. We discovered that not only was the right brake light out on the trailer, but if you turned your headlights on, the other brake light turned off. But that was ok, after all, we at least had the side lights on the trailer working, unless the headlights were turned off.

We were losing daylight so I said a few prayers and down the road we went. It was probably the only time I've ever gone under 60 MPH down I-95 without there being an accident on the road. I refused to get out of the right lane, especially since I was lacking a driver side mirror. I found exit 5, and was very thankful to get off the Interstate without any incident. Daddy had agreed to help out with fixing the wiring, so I just had to get the trailer safely to Tybee. Not a big deal, so long as I could navigate through downtown and not get pulled over, especially since we didn't have a trailer tag.

Around 8 pm we made it safely to the marina. It took me a little bit to get the hang of backing up the small trailer, but I was pleased. Not bad for my first time, although I had helped back boats in and out at the boat ramps, but this was my first time on my own. I thought we were in the home stretch. I was wrong. The trailer seemed quite content to stay attached to my truck, not understanding that this was to be its resting place for a few days. The more it hung on, the more frustrated I got. I was wearing steel toe tennis shoes and kicking that trailer with all my might, trying to bully it into letting go of my truck. It didn't happen. I called my daddy. I was told I could wait an hour for him to get home or go and find the jack and a hammer on the property. I hung up and started walking around, kicking rocks in frustration, scaring the feral cats around the building. By some miracle, my friend managed to get it off. I'm not going to ask how; I don't care. It was almost 9 pm, I hadn't had dinner, and I was cranky. I also had two small dogs in the car who were really ready to be done with their travels as well.

I headed off the island, stopping to check our post office box and say hi to Mom and thank Dad for offering to fix the wiring. Mom realized I hadn't eaten, and feeling sorry for me, put her fries into a napkin for me to eat on the way home. They were really good. I dropped my friend off at his car, then started down the home stretch.

The arrival home was relatively quiet. The dogs had been taken care of by Sara earlier in the evening, so I just had to let them out for their last time of potty. I settled in to answer emails, picking and choosing as i really just wanted to throw myself in bed. I grabbed a quick hot shower, then curled up with my Hitchiker's Guide, read one chapter and fell out. That was until the storms came.

Did you know that many puppies and small dogs hate storms? It's not new information, but when the howls and screams woke me in the middle of the night along with pounding rain and thunder, I was reminded. I tried talking nicely to them, reassuring them it was going to be fine. Hannah and Vinnie took advantage of the situation, wrapping around my legs and leaning into me for extra attention, even though I knew full well they weren't afraid of storms. I gave out as many chew treats as I could find and trudged my way back to bed, hoping to sleep at least two hours.

Despite the weather being so beautiful today, I would give anything to be back in bed, if just for a couple hours.

Sunday Night at Barnes and Noble

I'm a geek. I have never had a problem admitting to that throughout my life. I taught myself computers, went to Georgia Tech during the summer in middle school, took Saturday classes, was in junior math my freshman year, exempted English in college, and would read four to five books a week for fun. As I've gotten older, I've found it's harder to find the free time, but somehow I do. Heck, I'd be in school again right now if it weren't for all those outstanding school loans (still waiting on my bailout).

Recently, I was sucked into the world of Sookie Stackhouse. Those of you who haven't read the books probably have at least seen or heard of her from the HBO series TrueBlood. There is no real reason for me to like her story so much. I grew up reading R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike, though was always turned off by vampire stories. I went to see Interview with a Vampire because it was a huge group outing in high school, but I had no interest in the Ann Rice books. But for whatever reason, I got religious about not missing an episode on Sunday nights. I actually went into withdrawal when the season ended. But I had rescue coming: my surrogate big sister got me the seven-book series for Christmas. It was great, except that now, instead of staying up until 1 or 2 am doing projects for the rescue, I was going into work hung over from reading till 3 or 4 am. I even ran out and bought book 8 in hardback and finished that in three nights and handed it off for someone else to read. I was once again a book addict.

For my birthday, two people gave me gift cards to B&N and Books-A-Million so I could purchase the next book in the series due out in March sometime. That's great, except now, I've gotten in the habit of reading at bedtime, and I had nothing to read. All my books that I love are still in storage at mom and dad's place because I have no real place to put them. (I usually read Pride and Prejudice, The Handmaid's Tale, and The Awakening once a year.) So after finishing my adoption around 6, I decided to head to B&N to spend one of my gift cards.

It takes me less time to get dressed and do makeup for an awards event than it does for me to pick out a book. I don't know why. Maybe it's a commitment thing: don't want to buy something and hate it. So I took myself down to the fiction aisle. It was swarming with new releases, mostly romance. Not really my thing. Maybe the reason I like the Stackhouse books is because of all the action. I do, afterall, prefer to see those when I go to the movies. So I started down the shelves. Just how many different times can you make a sequel off of Jane Austen novels? I think I counted 12, and they were from different authors. Sorry, but I just don't think anyone could capture me as much as she did for that genre. I kept browsing, squatting down, feeling the pain in my toes from my new boots (happily purchased on sale at Macy's last week), and trying not to care about the young girls squealing behind me about Twilight (yes, many of you are fans, but it just didn't do anything for me, sorry). I don't know what it was about these books, but everything was either a spin-off from a classic or something about a woman in her 40s or 60s trying to come to terms with life or get out of the murder of her husband/boyfriend/lover or husband/boyfriend's lover, etc. I could not find something that appealed to me: a 30-year-old animal lover, happy about not having children, living paycheck to paycheck, and rolling pennies for her Sonic habit (thanks Jake and Dan for contributing to my delinquency this evening - love those Mocha Java Chillers). So what author reaches out to my demographic? Apparently, none. But, I did find a nice compromise: Jimmy Buffett's Salty Piece of Land. What Parrothead couldn't be happy with that find? (But I was bummed to not find Swine Not.)

So I headed to the checkout, along the way finding a new release about a private investigator and his dog told from the viewpoint of the dog. Sounded good, and Stephen King gave a great review, so I grabbed it as well. But no trip to B&N would be complete without a run through of the Bargain section. This is where I pick up most of my dog and cat books, some great, some on sale for a reason. But there, completely out of place was one of my favorite classics. I debated... new mystery, or old friend? I was shopping on a gift card budget of $25, so I knew I couldn't have all three. (Besides, that's why there is half.com.) The geek in me won out, and I swapped out the tale of the pup for the classic The Complete Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I trotted along to wait in line, happy to be spending someone else's money on my habit, and proud of myself for not grabbing a frappucino during my spree. That was until I got to the register to hand over my gift card and discovered I had grabbed the one for Books A Million instead. Sigh. I had already committed myself to the books, I couldn't wait to get home to read them, so I shelled out the $37 and sulked out the door. I found redemption at Sonic down the street as I DID have my giftcard to there. Nothing better than a good book and chocolate on a dreary Sunday night.

Community Service: It Runs in the Family

Most of you Tybee folks know my dad pretty well. For the rest of you, here's a small tale about Capt. Mike.

Growing up on Tybee, I was always known as "Mike's Daughter." It's something that I didn't really mind, but as I got older and traveled outside of the area, became quite a little quirk, and sometimes irritating that people couldn't remember my four-letter first name.

I chose to go to college six hours away from Savannah as I wanted my independence and to find myself. One weekend, I went on a camping trip to Cumberland Island. I had been gone for about six months at that point. On the ferry from St. Mary's over ot the island, I sat next to a guy who kept looking at me rather strangely. Finally, he asked where I was from. I said Tybee Island. Next question: "Are you Mike's daughter?" And I cannot count the number of times that has happened to me over the years, even once in an elevator in New York.

So why is my dad so well known? Well, the answer has changed a little bit over the years. He was originally known for being a troublemaker on Tybee, all because we were outsiders coming to start a business and increase tourism on Tybee. For the most part, that's water under the bridge. But my dad has always believed in giving back to the community. It's part of being raised a Catholic, something he instilled in me as a very young child. At Lent and Advent I was taught to save my change to give to children's charities. Mom and Dad would always match whatever I saved, making sure I knew they weren't just talk. I also worked in a soup kitchen, did other activities with the Girl Scouts, and later coached soccer for the YMCA as my dad had done for my brother, my sister, and me.

Once we moved permanently to Tybee, Daddy got involved with the Tybee Beautification Association, which meant I would, too - even if it did lead to my getting eaten alive by fire ants to discover I was actually allergic to them and had to have a note from my doctor to allow me to wear pants to school to cover my badly eaten legs. (From then on out, I always opted for the back river assignments instead of the dunes.) From there, he partnered with the county to take out underprivileged youth on our dolphin tours (he was even named Chatham County Citizen of the Year for that). Years later, Daddy got involved with the Shriners. He's always loved working with kids, and he's always believed in helping them as much as he can. He loves being able to tell the stories about the kids they are helping. In fact, I have a young cousin who is currently going through one of the Shrine's hospitals up north. Daddy keeps good tabs on her.

But yesterday, I got a surge of pride during my Leadership Savannah visit to the Savannah Impact Program (SIP). I never knew anything about this program. I had seen the building as I passed it on Drayton, but never thought much about it. Yesterday, I learned that one of their programs is to take in juvenile offenders and try to change their lives around. One of the ways is through a summer enrichment program. I was impressed with the presentation, and had made a mental note to talk to the guy afterward about having him meet up with my dad since we used to work with these programs regularly. But apparently, there was no need. A few moments later, I got to hear about how much wonderful support they get from Capt. Mike out on Tybee. A few laughs went up in the room, and I proudly raised my hand to say I was Mike's daughter.

I admit, I like that I have a name for myself now, and I chuckle to hear my mom tell me stories of him being asked if he's Lisa's dad. (Mom did make a comment last night about how "Poor ole mom is just in the background." We'll have to work on that I guess.) But times like that, I'm more than happy to sit back, and smile, and know that I am my father's daughter.

Please Understand, I'm Just a Volunteer

Apparently, it's a state secret that I don't get paid for my work with Coastal Pet Rescue. Well, it's true. I'm just a volunteer. Granted, I put in around 80 hours a week, but I do work a full-time job, Monday through Friday, 9 to 5 as well. But that doesn't stop my phone from blowing up or emails piling up with people demanding a response and getting irritated when I don't reply immediately.

Take today for instance. I was unavailable all day for Leadership Savannah. I tried to handle things as best I could via text message, but that wasn't enough. I actually had several irate voicemails on my phone for not calling people back immediately. I forwarded messages to our vice president who stepped in for me as best she could. But it was frustrating to say the least.

Even as a volunteer, I'm on call pretty much 24/7. That really puts a crimp in my social life, if I had one. My cell phone is pretty much an electronic leash. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do, but with the good comes a lot of emotional heartache, much of which I'm forced to keep to myself in order to keep people calm and situations under control. But it doesn't mean I don't feel hurt. Just ask my vet how badly I feel, or how many times they have left me in a room to cry by myself. A long time ago, I had a teddy bear, Homer, that I cried into anytime something happened. Days like today I miss having him, but he pretty much "died" when I was 24 after soaking my tears since 5th grade.

Yes, this is the life I chose for myself, I get that. I just wish people could have a little patience and understand that I don't have all the answers, I can't solve every single problem; I'm just a volunteer.

I Think I'm Related to Murphy

I left work today right at 5:00 pm. It is now 10:21 pm, and I'm just now sitting down to catch a breath. I had planned to be home hours ago, but as we all know, seldom do things in Lisa Land go according to plan.

I arrived home at 5:25, just in time to greet Sara, my Wednesday evening ranch hand. It has been so great having ranch hands for the last month. I'm actually in bed before midnight most nights as opposed to 2 am. We walked in the house and it hit me: I forgot to pick up Herbie from the vet on the way home. So back out I went. I arrived at the vet, luckily only a couple miles away, only to remember I was having a returned dog dropped off between 5:30 and 6. I shrugged and figured Sara would call me if there was a problem.

We left the vet almost right at six, along with some new meds for my vocally-endowed Poodle, who I might add has been here at the ranch since July 7th. We pulled in the drive just as soon as the other drop off. I ran inside, put Herbie up, ran out, grabbed Moo, found an empty kennel, and then set about packing the truck to relocate two foster pets to new foster homes. At 6:40 we were on the road to Hinesville. We made good time, leaving at just 7:15 to head to the other foster home on Isle of Hope.

I just about nailed my time frame at 8:15. Still not as good as our bus driver to Atlanta last week, but pretty darn good for me. I pulled into the driveway, got out of the truck, and heard a hissing sound. I wasn't sure exactly where it was coming from, so I went and got the dog out of her travel kennel and set to introduce her to her new foster brother. In doing so, I walked right past my truck again, and it hit me: my tire was going flat.

It's now 36 degrees, almost 8:30 at night. But luckily, I was at someone's home. I called Geico roadside assistance. I feel like I should know the voices on the other line by first name as often as I seem to call them. I relayed the problem, agreed that yes, I've had some bad luck with tires the last few months, and waited for Gordon's to arrive in 30 minutes or less (would have been great if they had a deal with Domino's as I was still hungry but now worried about my truck). We went inside to do the foster paperwork and see how the pups got along. About 9 pm, the tow truck showed up. I unlocked the cap from inside the car for him to access the spare tire. I stood shivering, but not balking as I've done this at least a dozen times before. He laughed and told me to go inside, he'd knock when it was ready. About 9:30, we heard a noise. I looked out the window to see the tow truck... driving off. I went outside, and sure enough, he drove around the block then off the isle. Well, at least my spare (which is a full size) was on the truck. Oh wait, the spare was also flat. Nice. I said my goodbyes to the pups and foster mom and limped on down to the BP. I found three quarters, shoved them in the air provider, then proceeded to bear through the chilly winds and inflate the tire, knowing that I was still a good half hour away from home.

I got in the truck, shook my head, and called Cat. Probably the only other person I know who is still up at this hour and could help me find some amusement in the evening. I was driving down Middleground when she realized I still wasn't home yet. It was almost 10 pm. I still had to get home, get another crate out of the shed and set it up to bring in the extra hounds that normally sleep outdoors. I already had a litter of puppies in the bathroom, and crates stacked in the kitchen. The last place left was the living room, which I had just reclaimed two days ago for the first time in about five months. Well, I don't really use the couches anyways, especially since one is broken in the middle.

So here I am, reflecting in my last moments of my 20s, drinking a Coke, and remembering that I have to be up at 5 am to do a 6:30 am appearance on WJCL's morning show. I think dinner is a lost cause at this point; maybe there will be better luck with breakfast.

There's Just Something about Savannah

To anyone who hasn't lived here, it's hard to explain, sometimes, the reasons so many people never leave. I left for a couple of years of college, and ended up right back. I often thought of moving down to Florida (would always be south or west, never north), but never did. But my lunchtime today is a big reason why.

It's cold today. No doubt about it. I hate cold, that's why I live here. All I have thought about since I got to work is hot cocoa (which I grabbed at McDonald's after fueling up this morning) and hot food. I saw someone mention chili on Facebook, and of course, now I wanted some. I usually head to Wendy's. The chili is good, but most of all, fits my budget. I thought it might be nice to have an alternative, so I called Bunny to see what Cha-Bella had soup-wise. I wasn't 100% that's what I wanted, but why not give the place a chance, after all, they are hosting my fabulous birthday suaree this Sunday (6 to 8 pm, Trainwrecks go on at 7 pm, in case you missed the event notification).

I arrived at Cha-Bella and was immediately greeted with a hug, not from Bunny but Susie, the young blond who had often been my server at New South Cafe, back when they were conveniently located near my office. I just adore Susie. I always tried to sit at her tables if I ever took anyone there. She always has a smile, speaks well, gets the orders right, and takes excellent care of her tables. So seeing her just made the lunch all the more special.

Bunny came to greet me, and without missing a beat, asked me for a media contact. Apparently, Cha-Bella was going to be hosting 30 students for Junior Achievement this afternoon, but nothing was sent out to the media. I whipped out my cell phone like I was Inspector Gadget and clicked the speed dial to WJCL. Britt Middleton answered the phone. I identified myself and got a very warm greeting. I explained what was going on, then handed the phone to Bunny. She handed it back, Britt thanked me for the heads up and hung up. I've only done a couple stories with her, but she talked to me as if we were old friends. I just love that feeling. Plus, it's kinda cool to think I have connections to help someone who has helped me out so much. I often feel like low lady on the totem pole, always asking for help for the puppers (and kitters, too).

I followed Bunny to her office and spent my lunch with her, catching up like good girlfriends do, talking about my birthday party and getting older. She got a phone call as well, from another person I knew pretty well. It was a surprise to him, so she ended up handing me her cell phone so I could catch up a little bit. I don't know if they ever had the conversation he intended as she had to run to finish a catering proposal.

The time finally came for me to return to work. But of course, as we were leaving, we saw another friend by the fire. We walked over, and Brian greeted me with a kiss on the a cheek, and a hug, wishing me a happy birthday. That just made my day! Of course, he asked about the puppies (kitties are implied, though I never have them at my house) as well, as it is only polite since that is how everyone knows me.

I said my goodbyes and skipped the five blocks to my truck. It was cold, but I was surrounded in warm wishes from good friends. And that, folks, is why I keep living in Savannah.

Pet Rescue Barbie

It seems I have a reputation for loving pets. But when Dutch Dooley called a couple weeks ago to schedule me for an appearance on Kix, it was his greeting that made me laugh. Instead of saying, "Hi, Lisa," I got, "Is this Pet Rescue Barbie?" Apparently, someone had been doing his research.

The Barbie thing goes back to high school. Those who knew me then will remember my hair came all the way down my backside and was nearly see-through blonde from working every day in the sun at the marina. In retaliation, when I got to college, I cut it to just above my shoulders and dyed it strawberry blonde. It was supposed to wash out in 28 washes, but took 4 years.

For a few years, I shed the Barbie image. I was not as skinny as I had been, and working inside meant no more year-round tan. But as I got into pet rescue, it came back. First, from a 60-year-old woman I met down in Florida when I was doing a pet rescue transport. She laughed when she saw me drive up. Apparently, I was the youngest person she had ever met doing these things, and she was amazed. I had lost a lot of weight then, and spent a bit of time at the pool in my apartment complex. She said something to the effect of "what's a Barbie doll like you doing out here so early on a Saturday morning?" I don't remember her name, but I can clearly remember the 6 toy poodles and shih tzus we piled into my car for the ride to SC to meet the next hand-off.

On a local message board, I became known as the Pet Chick. I took no offense, and actually called myself that quite a bit in conversations. But then, later that year, an email circulated around, advertising the great new K-9 Rescue Barbie. And thus, Pet Rescue Barbie came to life.

So here's to our sixth anniversary tomorrow (and my 30th birthday).


K-9 Rescue Barbie

This Christmas season, give the latest, hottest new Barbie -- K-9 Rescue Barbie. She comes with her own Ford Aerostar van, and various size dog crates inside. She has a cell phone that's barely working due to over use and underpayment.

Barbie herself is decked out in jeans, grungy athletic shoes, and a t-shirt that says "Dogs are Better Than Any Other Living Thing on Earth". She comes with a road atlas of every town and state in all of North America, and a compass on the dashboard of the van. She also has a map of every McDonald's in the world.

Optional is the special Rescue Dog Barbie laptop computer with the names and addresses of every other dog rescue person on earth, in case she gets somewhere and a contact fails to show up.

Running buddy, "Lucky", the three-legged, blind Shih Tzu doll is available for an additional $49.95.

For $89.95, you can complete the set with "Pissed off husband at home, Ken," and the various foster dogs at $20 each.

Prices for accessories are:

* Fake snow falling on Barbie's van: $12.95
* Flat tire for Barbie's van: (see Barbie's Road Service")
* Barbie's First Aid Kit: (human): $11.75, (canine): $69.50
* Barbie's Speeding Ticket: $95 (Mississippi--$195)
* Barbie's coat-that-she-had-to-buy-in-Minnesota: $85
* Barbie's Vet Bill for Lucky in Vaughn, New Mexico: $63.45
* Barbie's contact, Rhonda, who she had to give gas money to in Mesa Verde,Texas: $20
* Barbie's bill to get her contact, Luis, out of jail in Bakersfield, California: $500
* Barbie's bill to get Luis's dogs out of the pound in Bakersfield, California: $265
* Barbie's hotel/kennel bill in Laughlin, Nevada, while she waits for her contact:$532
* Barbie's overalls that she has to buy while in Minden, Nebraska, hunting down lost coonhounds: $49.95
* Pizza for Barbie's suspicious looking hitch-hiker with sick puppy: $15
* Vet bill for hitch-hikers sick puppy in Des Moines, Iowa: $143.29
* Barbie's doggie wheelchair for "Klause" the rescue dachshund in Leavenworth, Kansas: $143
* And Barbie's van detailing/fumigation from hauling parvo/kennel cough puppies: $187
* Barbie's resume to get new job when she gets home from run: $29.95

And let us not forget her sister doll - Cat Rescue Barbie, who comes with
the same equipment, (substitute "cat" for "dog"), also:

* Folding ladder in vehicle: $129.95
* Have-a-heart trap: $29.95
* Cans of tuna for baiting trap: $11.95
* Long handled fishing net: $39.95
* Case of Simple Solution: $259.95
* Black light (to detect cat urine): $29.95
* Tee shirt that says "The More I Know About Men, The More I Love My Cat" $19.95
* Running buddy "Jeep" - 3-legged tailless cat named after vehicle that claimed her missing appendages: $89.95
* Vet bill for Jeep $397.95
* Friend Edith, 87-year-old feral colony feeder, who calls begging favors when her arthritis acts up and she can't get out. $59.95
* Food for Edith's colony cats (after all, Edith is on Social Security) $139.95
* Friend Margie, do-gooder with pristine home and one spoiled cat, whose idea of being a rescuer is to pick up strays and take them to Barbie for rehab, vetting, fostering, and placement. $89.95
* Vet bills for Margie's rescues $892.95
* Mother Sadie, who calls weekly to ask Barbie when she is going to get rid of all those smelly cats and give her some grandchildren already $89.95 (telephone extra)
* Shrink who talks Barbie out of killing above-mentioned persons each week $500
* Vet who makes house calls and doesn't blink at unannounced visits and odd-hour consultations: *priceless*

The Story of Me

There is nothing quite like growing up with the dream of changing the world. I often thought people were born leaders or had a destiny to make an impact. I never thought of myself as one of those people.

As a child, I spent my days outside, climbing trees, fishing in the creeks, camping, and almost anything involving the outdoors. Not atypical for a Southern tomboy growing up on Tybee Island, a small seaside suburb of Savannah. I was the youngest of four children, with a fairly large gap in ages, my siblings all being 11 and 14 years older than me. My parents both worked corporate jobs that kept them away from home, and subsequently me, for a large portion of the time. So I grew very close to my pets, confiding in them my hopes and fears, all the things I was afraid to tell anyone, or at least didn't think anyone had the time or interest to listen.

My first dog, Peaches, ran into our house on Thanksgiving when I was in second grade. She was a mutt, part Poodle, part everything else. She was filthy but friendly and decided this should be her home. Against my mom's protests, my dad decreed she could stay, and my oldest sister, Sandra, and I named her Peaches.

Back then, we didn't know much about spaying and neutering. I wasn't home to see Bob Barker preach about spaying and neutering in between his duty as host of “The Price Is Right”. I often wished he had been talking about people and not just pets. So a couple months later, Peaches had a litter of nine puppies. Four months later, she was hit by a car, leaving us to care for the litter and find homes for them all. And thus began my journey into animal rescue.

I honestly don't believe anyone goes into rescue on purpose. For me, it was just a habit. After the puppies, we took in another dog, Shadow, that I found discarded into a dumpster as a puppy. Shortly thereafter, Daddy brought home Bandit, an orphaned baby raccoon. I still harbor ill feelings for the damage she brought to my favorite teddy bear and having to sleep in a baseball cap since she loved to play with my hair while I slept. And then there was the never-ending procession of stray and feral cats that found their way to our home on Tybee. I went off to college and took care of strays here and there, but it wasn't until I got married that I realized I needed to do something.

I made the mistake of marrying young. I was happy that I had waited until after college, something that I wanted to be sure I accomplished for myself. My family didn't have the money to put me through school, so that I would qualify for scholarships. It meant a tremendous amount to me to be able to say I went to college for me, not because it was what was expected or pushed, but because it was what I wanted. But while I made great decisions with regard to my education, I continually floundered in my personal life. I was too young to know what was best for me, and married the first person that offered me a life I thought I wanted.

I found myself incredibly miserable. I was only 23. I had been cut off from most of my friends, I never saw my parents, and spent many nights crying myself to sleep. But what I rediscovered was my love for animals. I took to rescuing more and more, taking them to the vet and finding them homes. I started a website to get the word out about the homeless pets. In January 2003, I started the paperwork to make Coastal Pet Rescue (CPR) a formal organization, at the advice of my veterinarian, Dr. Pam Fandrich. On February 5th, the incorporation papers were signed, and CPR officially had the same birthday as me.

It was amazing to me to see CPR take off like it did. I now had an outlet outside of my marriage that made me happy, but most importantly, gave me the reason to get out of bed in the morning, something I had lacked for most of the previous year. I met other women through the rescue, women who had stories similar to mine and, like me, had managed to find themselves again. I gained the strength I needed, and that October, left in the middle of the night to start a new life.

For the next two years, I lived out of a suitcase, a short while out of my SUV, and moved four times. But all the while, I never let go of CPR.
Even on the darkest days, when I thought it would be easiest to pack the truck and leave town, I stayed because of my commitment to rescue. I came to know some fantastic people and the support for my organization grew. Marjorie Young of Carriage Trade PR became a mentor, teaching me the ropes of public relations to increase our support. And my parents, who had been absent from my life through most of my marriage, helped me to purchase a place big enough for me and the dogs I so desperately wanted to save.

I discovered there was still so much more I needed to know. Coastal Pet Rescue was no longer just a hobby, it had become a business. I was working a full-time job and spending 60 plus hours a week keeping CPR afloat, but decided I really needed to go back to school. I enrolled in the Humane Leadership bachelor degree program through Duquesne University. The program was in partnership with the Humane Society of the United States, and I would be taught by people actually in the fields of animal welfare and business administration. I was even lucky enough to be in class during the Michael Vick investigation, with my instructor being the lead veterinary forensics investigator. The more classes I took, the stronger CPR became. And, over time, the better leader I became as well.

I graduated the program in December 2007, Magna Cum Laude. My parents flew me to Pittsburgh to walk in the graduation ceremony while they stayed home at Tybee. Even in the 27 degree weather, I could feel the warm thoughts and support from home.

As I said earlier, I never believed I was a leader, but something happened with Coastal Pet Rescue. In 2005, I appeared in TIME magazine, was named the Jiffy Lube Heart on Wheels national winner, and featured on CNN.com. Awards followed in 2006, as I was named to the top ten Purina Pro Plan Rally to Rescue Ambassadors, received a certificate of recognition from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, had a flag flown over the US Capitol by Congressman Jack Kingston, and was named to the REAL Hot 100 list. Local recognitions came in 2007, such as the Top Ten Working Women of Savannah, eWomenNetwork Emerging Leader of the Year finalist, Hands on Georgia Gallery of Service, and WGNU's Women Inspiring Women. I was named a Savannah Hero by the Georgia Equality Association and CPR was named as one of the top five non-profit organizations changing the world by South Magazine in 2008. I even became an instructor for the Red Cross's Pet First Aid and CPR classes and redeveloped the curriculum.

Today, I take pride in being known as a leader. I like being able to mentor the young girls that volunteer with us, helping them to see that their small actions can grow to be something much larger. There are always people around that want to tell me there are better ways to spend my time, that I'm not on the right path. But then there are all the others that, time and again, help to reaffirm the path I've chosen, even if it hasn't been smooth sailing all along.