The reason we have the "one at a time" in our tagline is because realistically, we can't save them all. But it won't stop us from trying to save the ones we can.
It was nearly 9 pm when I got home from my board meeting last night. Ryan was in the house, having already bathed all but one puppy with dish soap to kill the fleas. They had been fed and most were curled up together behind my toilet. Not exactly the place I would have chosen, but they felt safe in their little refuge. One puppy was still left in a box. You could see the fleas running all through his white fur. One eye had some discharge, and his gums were pale. He was half the size of his siblings, most definitely the runt. He made a little whimper, not much, but just enough to say he wasn't sure what was going on but knew he had no control. I figured from the bloated bellies of the other puppies that he was suffering from hookworms and roundworms on the inside and all the flea bites weren't helping either. I put him back then ran outside to finish packing Betty's van for the expo so they could get on their way back home to the islands.
I came back inside and decided to go ahead and bathe the little one. I already felt like he wouldn't make it through the night, but decided to at least try and make him as comfortable as possible. I put him under the water and he began to drink just as fast as his tiny tongue would let him. We finished the bath. I warmed some puppy milk for him and we dropper fed him. He finally got the idea and decided he could take it from the bowl himself. It was now 10 pm and I had so much left to do for the expo. I sent Ryan home to get some rest since he would have to be up at 4 am. His boss isn't near as forgiving as mine if I come in groggy. Of course, that's the biggest reason I didn't go forward with my acceptance to the Coast Guard Academy.
I went about my evening, finishing prep, refilling water bowls, and checking on little Rybo every 30 minutes. He seemed to be sleeping fine, as all the other puppies were. I put him in a cage by himself with a big fluffy blanket and left him water and puppy milk just in case he wanted more. I checked on him again before I crawled into bed at 1:20 am. All seemed to be well.
The first wake up call was at 3:48. Not uncommon with puppies. I got up, and Rybo had finished off the milk I left him. I picked him up, swaddled in a small towel, and held him against my heart, knowing that often comforts lonely puppies. In 20 minutes he was back asleep. I put him down and walked out of the bathroom, stepped over a few dogs stretched outside the door, and crawled back into my bed for a cat nap.
The next wake up call came at 6:30. I wrestled with myself about getting out of my warm bed into the cold hallway since the windows and doors only block the winter air but don't keep it out completely. At 6:50 I decided to get up and go check on him. This time, he was squealing. I picked him up and held him again. It seemed to help. I warmed up some more milk and put it down in his crate then put him back in. He was quiet for a few minutes. I walked to the bedroom and decided to go ahead and start my day since sleep was just not going to be possible now. I took my kids outside to do their thing, then let two more of the bigger dogs out. It was now almost 7:30. I went back in, and knew something was wrong. He was in the corner of his crate, trying desperately to get out. I went to pick him up, and that's when it all started going downhill. For the next thirty minutes I watched the puppy version of the Exorcist while I waited for the vet's office to open.
I knew it was my responsibility to make the decision in his best interest. He was suffering, and I had no idea how long this had been going on before I got him or how it would affect him later if we pulled him through once. I got ahold of Crossroad Animal Hospital. They've been my personal vet for nine years and have treated our CPR pets for six. I told them I just needed to come in and have a puppy put to sleep as soon as possible. I have enough of a relationship with them that they understand these decisions are not reached lightly and must be urgent if I have. I arrived a few minutes before 9, gave a very quick rundown, and off they were with little Rybo to ease his suffering and send him to the rainbow bridge.
Driving to work wasn't easy. I hurt for Rybo, but I was still so angry that someone let this happen. I understand it's part of the circle of life, but it never gets easier the more I do it. I pulled out my camera and looked at his pictures I shot last night. I hope he has finally found some peace.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Just Another Night
Dear Mom,
People suck. I know you raised me to not use such language, and you sent me to parochial schools to have a stronger vocabulary. But tonight, I truly have no more words to use.
It was just another day. Go to work, run by vet's office to pick up a dog, run home, drop her off, head to a board meeting, then come home to finish up everything for our three-day event. Except that in the midst of all this, I had a phone call to take in eight five-week-old beagle puppies. Just what I need. But when I heard the story, there was no way I could say no.
The phone call came from Ryan, a young soldier who not only serves his country well but also gives free time to help out with the dogs. In true form, he starts out with, "I'm really sorry to bother ya, but I need your help." As it turns out, one of his soldiers woke up this morning, walked out the door, and found a cardboard box on his doorstep. He went to go throw it away... until he heard whimpers, and discovered eight young puppies. Keep in mind the weather was in the very, very low 20s last night, and all these puppies had to keep them warm was each other and a dirty, flea infested stuffed teddy bear the heartless jerk left with them.
So Ryan and I spent a couple of hours this evening bathing puppies, force feeding the runt some puppy milk, and working to keep them in the best condition possible until we can get to the vet in the am. The good news is, despite their being cast out for no fault of their own, they are still eager to held, to play, to be part of a loving family someday.
So sorry, Mom. I love you, and I will promise to do better, but people suck.
People suck. I know you raised me to not use such language, and you sent me to parochial schools to have a stronger vocabulary. But tonight, I truly have no more words to use.
It was just another day. Go to work, run by vet's office to pick up a dog, run home, drop her off, head to a board meeting, then come home to finish up everything for our three-day event. Except that in the midst of all this, I had a phone call to take in eight five-week-old beagle puppies. Just what I need. But when I heard the story, there was no way I could say no.
The phone call came from Ryan, a young soldier who not only serves his country well but also gives free time to help out with the dogs. In true form, he starts out with, "I'm really sorry to bother ya, but I need your help." As it turns out, one of his soldiers woke up this morning, walked out the door, and found a cardboard box on his doorstep. He went to go throw it away... until he heard whimpers, and discovered eight young puppies. Keep in mind the weather was in the very, very low 20s last night, and all these puppies had to keep them warm was each other and a dirty, flea infested stuffed teddy bear the heartless jerk left with them.
So Ryan and I spent a couple of hours this evening bathing puppies, force feeding the runt some puppy milk, and working to keep them in the best condition possible until we can get to the vet in the am. The good news is, despite their being cast out for no fault of their own, they are still eager to held, to play, to be part of a loving family someday.
So sorry, Mom. I love you, and I will promise to do better, but people suck.
Lisa the Rescuer
I am very proud to say that I did watch history today. I enjoyed sharing the experience with my other friends on Facebook. But as I was just driving back home tonight, at yet another late hour due to rescue stuff, my mind drifted back to the whole Joe the Plumber thing. So it made me think about Lisa the Rescuer.
In just two weeks, I will be 30. Like most of my friends, I'm still figuring out where I'll go in life. I'm well educated, with three college degrees, but can't find a job to pay me my worth, or at least what I was told I would be worth with higher education. I have crap for health insurance, which I would love to cancel since they won't pay any of my medical bills but yet if I do cancel, no other company will insure me. What's the purpose of health insurance again? I struggle each month to pay the bills and have to make the choices of which can be a few days late over another. No, it's not the best way to live, but for most of my friends in similar situations, it's life. Just last week I tried to call one of my student loan holders to get a deferment because I couldn't make the payments. I was told it would be a $50 charge to apply for it. The payment was $65 a month. If I don't have the payment to make each month, how in the world would I have the funds for an application fee? What sense does that make? Do they know how hard it is to grocery shop on $20 a month? It's a darn good thing I learned to love peanut butter and honey sandwiches as a Girl Scout. Oh, wait, I can't buy peanut butter either because its contaminated now. I live in a house that is mostly cold because the walls and windows are paper thin, the roof leaks in places, and my shed has tarps on it since it is mostly rotted through but keeps our rescue supplies locked safely. (The floor is worthless, too, but that's partly the dogs' doing.) But for now, I at least still have a home. I find myself scrambling for odd jobs each month just to pick up a little more to make it by. Sometimes I do, others I don't. I know the consequences, but little choice exists.
President Obama has called for Americans to give more of themselves and give back to the community. Great idea, except how can people be expected to do that if they have to pick up multiple jobs to make ends meet? Or jobs with odd or long hours? We lost so many volunteers in the last year that had to relocate for a better job or take a second job. I myself would love to be able to quit my job if I could figure out how to make it by and do the rescue full time. It's my passion, and it does provide a great service to the community, but the reality is that community service doesn't keep the electricity on and the mortgage paid.
I recognize that there is no easy answer or quick fix. I just want to feel like those of us in our late 20s/early 30s that are still searching for our way will be considered just as much as the Joe the Plumbers or youths of America. I'm just hopeful there will be a voice to the President's ear for those of us in between.
In just two weeks, I will be 30. Like most of my friends, I'm still figuring out where I'll go in life. I'm well educated, with three college degrees, but can't find a job to pay me my worth, or at least what I was told I would be worth with higher education. I have crap for health insurance, which I would love to cancel since they won't pay any of my medical bills but yet if I do cancel, no other company will insure me. What's the purpose of health insurance again? I struggle each month to pay the bills and have to make the choices of which can be a few days late over another. No, it's not the best way to live, but for most of my friends in similar situations, it's life. Just last week I tried to call one of my student loan holders to get a deferment because I couldn't make the payments. I was told it would be a $50 charge to apply for it. The payment was $65 a month. If I don't have the payment to make each month, how in the world would I have the funds for an application fee? What sense does that make? Do they know how hard it is to grocery shop on $20 a month? It's a darn good thing I learned to love peanut butter and honey sandwiches as a Girl Scout. Oh, wait, I can't buy peanut butter either because its contaminated now. I live in a house that is mostly cold because the walls and windows are paper thin, the roof leaks in places, and my shed has tarps on it since it is mostly rotted through but keeps our rescue supplies locked safely. (The floor is worthless, too, but that's partly the dogs' doing.) But for now, I at least still have a home. I find myself scrambling for odd jobs each month just to pick up a little more to make it by. Sometimes I do, others I don't. I know the consequences, but little choice exists.
President Obama has called for Americans to give more of themselves and give back to the community. Great idea, except how can people be expected to do that if they have to pick up multiple jobs to make ends meet? Or jobs with odd or long hours? We lost so many volunteers in the last year that had to relocate for a better job or take a second job. I myself would love to be able to quit my job if I could figure out how to make it by and do the rescue full time. It's my passion, and it does provide a great service to the community, but the reality is that community service doesn't keep the electricity on and the mortgage paid.
I recognize that there is no easy answer or quick fix. I just want to feel like those of us in our late 20s/early 30s that are still searching for our way will be considered just as much as the Joe the Plumbers or youths of America. I'm just hopeful there will be a voice to the President's ear for those of us in between.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Respect My Sanity, Please
There is a reason we have a voicemail service for the rescue. Yet, people, whom I've yet to uncover, think it is perfectly fine to give out my cell phone number to people I don't know. And it's never Ed McMahon who wants to give me a million dollars.
My day started this morning at 4:30 am as I had to do my media appearance with WJCL. Add to the fact that I despise cold weather and I wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. I normally have a rule that I don't answer my cell phone from phone numbers I don't recognize simply because they are usually calls that are going to want me to solve a problem without any regard to my personal life. Sure enough, I got one as I was leaving home at 8:30 am.
Phone vibrates. Phone number looks familiar. I answer it. "Hello?"
"Hi this is [name withheld to protect the inconsiderate]."
Silence. Note to self: be better about sticking to the rules.
On the other end, the voice perks up, almost smiling. "I hear you like huskies?"
Silence.
"I'm pregant and I have these two huskies..." She was saying a bit more but all I heard was "I need you to take care of my dogs because I didn't have the forethought to pick breeds that would be easier to manage when I wanted to start a human family but they were so cute as puppies I just didn't care."
"We're full right now," I said, as dry as possible.
"But I'm pregnant."
"We're not taking any more dogs in until mid-February," I said.
Smile gone, rudeness sets in, "You're kiding me!" I could tell she was incredibly inconvenience. I mean really, people just can't have a baby and a dog, that's just preposterous.
"Nope," now just out cold, and irritated, and I was trying to get to work.
"Well, will you give me the number to someone who will?"
"You can look up other rescues online or try the humane society."
"Fine," and then click.
Yes, this is how people are to me. I'm supposed to solve every problem for every person if it involves a pet. Now don't get me wrong, I'm happy to take the phone calls from concerned individuals about dogs being left tethered or kittens living under a house. But if you know me personally, have some respect for my sanity and call me first and ask my permission to give out my number. Otherwise, if I find out who you are, I may give yours to every telemarketing agency I can find.
My day started this morning at 4:30 am as I had to do my media appearance with WJCL. Add to the fact that I despise cold weather and I wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. I normally have a rule that I don't answer my cell phone from phone numbers I don't recognize simply because they are usually calls that are going to want me to solve a problem without any regard to my personal life. Sure enough, I got one as I was leaving home at 8:30 am.
Phone vibrates. Phone number looks familiar. I answer it. "Hello?"
"Hi this is [name withheld to protect the inconsiderate]."
Silence. Note to self: be better about sticking to the rules.
On the other end, the voice perks up, almost smiling. "I hear you like huskies?"
Silence.
"I'm pregant and I have these two huskies..." She was saying a bit more but all I heard was "I need you to take care of my dogs because I didn't have the forethought to pick breeds that would be easier to manage when I wanted to start a human family but they were so cute as puppies I just didn't care."
"We're full right now," I said, as dry as possible.
"But I'm pregnant."
"We're not taking any more dogs in until mid-February," I said.
Smile gone, rudeness sets in, "You're kiding me!" I could tell she was incredibly inconvenience. I mean really, people just can't have a baby and a dog, that's just preposterous.
"Nope," now just out cold, and irritated, and I was trying to get to work.
"Well, will you give me the number to someone who will?"
"You can look up other rescues online or try the humane society."
"Fine," and then click.
Yes, this is how people are to me. I'm supposed to solve every problem for every person if it involves a pet. Now don't get me wrong, I'm happy to take the phone calls from concerned individuals about dogs being left tethered or kittens living under a house. But if you know me personally, have some respect for my sanity and call me first and ask my permission to give out my number. Otherwise, if I find out who you are, I may give yours to every telemarketing agency I can find.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Another Night of Heartbreak
The phone call came at 9:32 pm. All I had to do was look at the caller id and know what was coming. I have over 300 numbers stored in my phone, so I know who I have to answer and who I can call back later. This was one I had to take.
I answered, very softly, and the response was just the same. She really didn't have to tell me, but Dr. Hassan is an incredible vet and a kindred spirit. She gets what we are doing, and what it puts us through in the process. Add to the fact that she's been sick and gave up her time to go in and check on our puppies tonight, you see that she has just as much compassion as we. It was a short conversation. No need to rehash what I had just heard a little over 24 hours ago. Sonny had gone off to join his brother at the Rainbow Bridge.
Just a couple hours ago, I had gone down to Wendy's for some chili and a frosty to read my book. I needed a little down time and sitting here wasn't going to let me clear my head. Reading engrosses me in something else so I can't focus on all my responsibilities. I needed that tonight. But something in me told me when it was time to go home, and sure enough, not even ten minutes later is when the phone call came. Why can't I be this predictable with the winning lottery numbers?
I felt incredibly sick when I hung up the phone. Let's face it, Wendy's food isn't known for its nutritional value, and my constant up and down emotions for the last four days isn't helping either. What I wouldn't give right now for some hot cocoa and warm, snuggly pajamas. I don't know why, but those always made me feel better when I was a kid. I guess that's one of the pitfalls of living alone: times like this, when you need a hug or comforting, you're on your own to pick yourself back up. I've done it plenty of times before, I know I will again. But for tonight, I'll just hold the last puppy in my arms, saying my prayers of thanks that he didn't fall ill and is still well enough to chew his toys, dance on his back legs and pee in my lap from excitement.
I answered, very softly, and the response was just the same. She really didn't have to tell me, but Dr. Hassan is an incredible vet and a kindred spirit. She gets what we are doing, and what it puts us through in the process. Add to the fact that she's been sick and gave up her time to go in and check on our puppies tonight, you see that she has just as much compassion as we. It was a short conversation. No need to rehash what I had just heard a little over 24 hours ago. Sonny had gone off to join his brother at the Rainbow Bridge.
Just a couple hours ago, I had gone down to Wendy's for some chili and a frosty to read my book. I needed a little down time and sitting here wasn't going to let me clear my head. Reading engrosses me in something else so I can't focus on all my responsibilities. I needed that tonight. But something in me told me when it was time to go home, and sure enough, not even ten minutes later is when the phone call came. Why can't I be this predictable with the winning lottery numbers?
I felt incredibly sick when I hung up the phone. Let's face it, Wendy's food isn't known for its nutritional value, and my constant up and down emotions for the last four days isn't helping either. What I wouldn't give right now for some hot cocoa and warm, snuggly pajamas. I don't know why, but those always made me feel better when I was a kid. I guess that's one of the pitfalls of living alone: times like this, when you need a hug or comforting, you're on your own to pick yourself back up. I've done it plenty of times before, I know I will again. But for tonight, I'll just hold the last puppy in my arms, saying my prayers of thanks that he didn't fall ill and is still well enough to chew his toys, dance on his back legs and pee in my lap from excitement.
We Are Changing Lives
By now, most of you know what a bummer of a day I had yesterday. So my trip to check our post office today brought a little more sunshine to me.
I only get out there about twice a month to check it, so our mail sometimes accumulates. I've gotten used to not getting any donation checks but every few months. So imagine my surprise to get three today, two of which were from previous adopters.
In 2003, the first year Coastal Pet Rescue was official, I took a senior Cocker Spaniel in. Now, at this very moment, I'm having trouble remembering if I got her off the street or from someone, but I can remember she's one of the two dogs responsible for chewing up the foot board of my cherry oak bed which to this day still has not been repaired. I ended up adopting Honey to a young military couple. They vowed they would take her with them wherever they moved to. They did. I remember getting the email when she passed a year or so ago. So it was a surprise to open up my mailbox today and find a $50 donation and a letter with photos:
It's hard to believe that all these years later, this family is still thinking of us, but it really makes me feel so much better. I'm often criticized for taking animals that are older, have medical issues, or need a lot of care because "it takes away from animals that are perfectly healthy and will be euthanized." I got news for those folks: I've yet in nine years to take in a stray pet or one from animal control that was perfectly healthy. So you go about doing things your way, and I'll go about doing things mine. (Sorry, it's all the sugar from my M&M McFlurry talking.)
My next envelope was a $100 donation from an adopter two years ago. My sweet Deuce I could never, ever forget. We were in Garden City trying to trap a mom that had recently had puppies. Three of us had been working on this individually for a couple of weeks, and decided to try a teamwork approach. It was not a fabulous neighborhood, and people were anything but friendly but at least they weren't bothering us. We had canned food and slip leads and comfortable tennis shoes for the adventure as most of where we were may as well have been a protected jungle. About two hours after we were there, a yellow lab male found us. He was skinny, very skinny, and incredibly friendly. He followed us everywhere. I decided I could spare a can of food for him. He devoured it. I scratched his head and told him to go find his home, but he wouldn't leave us. Two hours later we decided it was time to pack it in. I opened up my truck door to put my supplies back, and there he was, trying to get in the truck. I have to say, it was a first. He was turning himself over for rescue. Wanting to do things the legal way, I decided I would turn him over to animal control and mark him to be pulled out in five days. Easier said then done.
On the thirty minute ride to animal control, this dog sat with his head my shoulder the entire way. They always seem to know a sucker when they find one. So when we finally arrived, I left him in the truck. It was a Sunday afternoon, only one person at the animal control shelter. I walked in and asked her, "Hypothetically, if I find a dog, can I just report it instead of turning it in to the shelter?" She laughed and said yes. I agreed he would not be put up for adoption for ten days, but I knew no one would come for him, and no one ever did.
I named my newest rescue Deuce. I'm sure I had a reason for it, but at this moment, I don't recall. I do remember that his first day home alone, he took down two of my blinds, knocked over my speakers, and drooled all over the front door (I can pinpoint damages in my home like most people can scars on their body). After that, we went to crating. He was already housebroken and as loyal as a lab could ever be. I was getting attached; this dog followed my every move, was incredibly well behaved, and got along well with Hannah and DaVinci. But I resolved that I would just wait until the right home came along. And it finally did. We drove Deuce to a lovely home on Distant Island, SC. He immediately took to the couple, making himself right at home. I couldn't blame him; they were on deep water, had windows all the way down the backside of the house so they could enjoy the view. When we walked outside and he got loose from the leash, he immediately ran to the husband to plead his case for adoption. It worked.
I still keep in touch with them and get regular updates. Many friends of their family sent us donations after the adoption to honor the memory of the lab they lost just prior to adopting Deuce. So to get their donation check with a sticky note that read "THANK YOU for finding him for us!!!" today was just a boost I needed.
I only get out there about twice a month to check it, so our mail sometimes accumulates. I've gotten used to not getting any donation checks but every few months. So imagine my surprise to get three today, two of which were from previous adopters.
In 2003, the first year Coastal Pet Rescue was official, I took a senior Cocker Spaniel in. Now, at this very moment, I'm having trouble remembering if I got her off the street or from someone, but I can remember she's one of the two dogs responsible for chewing up the foot board of my cherry oak bed which to this day still has not been repaired. I ended up adopting Honey to a young military couple. They vowed they would take her with them wherever they moved to. They did. I remember getting the email when she passed a year or so ago. So it was a surprise to open up my mailbox today and find a $50 donation and a letter with photos:
Lisa & Coastal Pet Rescue,
This holiday season we just wanted to thank you once again for rescuing Honey back in 2003. She brought us much joy while she was with us. Even though she has passed away we still love our Honey Bunny very much. This holiday we would like to make a small donation in memory of Honey Bunny. We know it's hard to find a loving home for older dogs like Honey so we hope that this will help support an older dog while he/she waits for their forever home.
Sincerely,
Aaron & Mandy
It's hard to believe that all these years later, this family is still thinking of us, but it really makes me feel so much better. I'm often criticized for taking animals that are older, have medical issues, or need a lot of care because "it takes away from animals that are perfectly healthy and will be euthanized." I got news for those folks: I've yet in nine years to take in a stray pet or one from animal control that was perfectly healthy. So you go about doing things your way, and I'll go about doing things mine. (Sorry, it's all the sugar from my M&M McFlurry talking.)
My next envelope was a $100 donation from an adopter two years ago. My sweet Deuce I could never, ever forget. We were in Garden City trying to trap a mom that had recently had puppies. Three of us had been working on this individually for a couple of weeks, and decided to try a teamwork approach. It was not a fabulous neighborhood, and people were anything but friendly but at least they weren't bothering us. We had canned food and slip leads and comfortable tennis shoes for the adventure as most of where we were may as well have been a protected jungle. About two hours after we were there, a yellow lab male found us. He was skinny, very skinny, and incredibly friendly. He followed us everywhere. I decided I could spare a can of food for him. He devoured it. I scratched his head and told him to go find his home, but he wouldn't leave us. Two hours later we decided it was time to pack it in. I opened up my truck door to put my supplies back, and there he was, trying to get in the truck. I have to say, it was a first. He was turning himself over for rescue. Wanting to do things the legal way, I decided I would turn him over to animal control and mark him to be pulled out in five days. Easier said then done.
On the thirty minute ride to animal control, this dog sat with his head my shoulder the entire way. They always seem to know a sucker when they find one. So when we finally arrived, I left him in the truck. It was a Sunday afternoon, only one person at the animal control shelter. I walked in and asked her, "Hypothetically, if I find a dog, can I just report it instead of turning it in to the shelter?" She laughed and said yes. I agreed he would not be put up for adoption for ten days, but I knew no one would come for him, and no one ever did.
I named my newest rescue Deuce. I'm sure I had a reason for it, but at this moment, I don't recall. I do remember that his first day home alone, he took down two of my blinds, knocked over my speakers, and drooled all over the front door (I can pinpoint damages in my home like most people can scars on their body). After that, we went to crating. He was already housebroken and as loyal as a lab could ever be. I was getting attached; this dog followed my every move, was incredibly well behaved, and got along well with Hannah and DaVinci. But I resolved that I would just wait until the right home came along. And it finally did. We drove Deuce to a lovely home on Distant Island, SC. He immediately took to the couple, making himself right at home. I couldn't blame him; they were on deep water, had windows all the way down the backside of the house so they could enjoy the view. When we walked outside and he got loose from the leash, he immediately ran to the husband to plead his case for adoption. It worked.
I still keep in touch with them and get regular updates. Many friends of their family sent us donations after the adoption to honor the memory of the lab they lost just prior to adopting Deuce. So to get their donation check with a sticky note that read "THANK YOU for finding him for us!!!" today was just a boost I needed.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Rainbow Bridge
There is no denying that running the rescue can take a high emotional toll some days. Today was definitely one of them. We had to put two puppies from a litter of four in the ER vet on Saturday. They stayed overnight as well as Sunday night. I was there a little after 7 am to pick them up and transfer them to our regular vet. A few hours later, we were sending in one more puppy as well. We have been through this process before. We know the chances we take, but we always try to at least take a chance.
My mind is such a flutter tonight. I've gotten to know these puppies pretty well over the last few weeks. They were left behind because a neglegent owner left her unspayed dog with someone who let her get pregnant then dumped her and the puppies at the shelter. The owner came back for the mom, but left the pups. They were about six weeks old. They sat in the shelter for a week before that, and then sat two days afterwards until I was able to get them. It seems like a short period, but that's all it takes to contract deadly diseases.
Right now, I want so badly to have someone to blame. When I walked into the vet's office after work tonight, I didn't feel good. I could just sense it wasn't right. And I was correct. I was walked back and asked to make a decision on him. I hate being the one to make those decisions, but that's what I've been doing the last six years. Before me was a puppy I didn't know. Just a few days before, he had been bouncing around with his brothers, eating at my shoe laces and attaching himself to my pants leg as I tried to walk. But this puppy before me was not him. He was already gone. I couldn't let what was left continue to suffer. I turned towards the wall, banged my fist once, and just let the tears flow. It's a rare thing to see me cry. I pride myself on being strong. But in that dark hallway, looking through the door at my puppies, I just filled with anger and extreme sadness. The vet techs gave me my time as I stared. I couldn't stop and I couldn't stop the tears. Finally I told them to let him go. I was escorted to an exam room to wait and they closed the door behind me. I put my head in my hands and just continued to cry, alone. I would have to compose myself to call his adoptive family and tell them the news. But for now, I needed my time to grieve.
Dr. Sheller came in to talk to me. She was soft in her tone, told me about cases she had had before. I know the statistics, I know the survival rate is not always good. I lost six puppies last year, and I remember every single one of them. But it never gets easier. We talked about the remaining two, how one had improved so much, he tried to remove the catheter himself. The other was doing well but not as good as they wanted him to do. She wanted them to both stay overnight.
I walked out in silence. Sweet Amy at the front desk made a small gesture that she was sorry but didn't say anything. Most animal lovers never have to. We all love our pets and understand how terrible we would feel if it was one of ours. I grabbed my paperwork, got in the truck, and headed home.
I don't even remember the drive home, but I made it. It took me nearly two hours to do the feedings and medicines and cleanings tonight, something that usually takes half that. I finished and finally called all the families to update them on their puppies. I saved the worst for last. It was probably the hardest phone call I've ever had to make, and yet the gentleman was so kind to me. I was very calm and collected, but I'm sure he could hear a tint of sadness in my voice. I apologized profusely, but I really didn't know what more I could say. As I had been told at the vet's office, we did all that we could, we just can't save them all.
--- Rainbow Bridge ---
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.
Author Unknown
--- The Reason ---
I would've died that day if not for you.
I would've given up on life if not for your kind eyes.
I would've used my teeth in fear if not for your gentle hands.
I would have left this life believing that all humans don't care
Believing there is no such thing as fur that isn't matted
Skin that isn't flea bitten
Good food and enough of it
Beds to sleep on
Someone to love me
To show me I deserve love just because I exist.
Your kind eyes, your loving smile, your gentle hands
Your big heart saved me...
You saved me from the terror of the pound,
Soothing away the memories of my old life.
You have taught me what it means to be loved.
I have seen you do the same for other dogs like me.
I have heard you ask yourself in times of despair
Why you do it
When there is no more money, no more room, no more homes
You open your heart a little bigger, stretch the money a little tighter
Make just a little more room to save one more like me.
I tell you with the gratitude and love that shines in my eyes
In the best way I know how
Reminding you why you go on trying.
I am the reason
The dogs before me are the reason
As are the ones who come after.
Our lives would've been wasted, our love never given
We would die if not for you.
By Kim Senke-Rocka
Associate Executive Director
Heart Bandits American Eskimo Dog Rescue
My mind is such a flutter tonight. I've gotten to know these puppies pretty well over the last few weeks. They were left behind because a neglegent owner left her unspayed dog with someone who let her get pregnant then dumped her and the puppies at the shelter. The owner came back for the mom, but left the pups. They were about six weeks old. They sat in the shelter for a week before that, and then sat two days afterwards until I was able to get them. It seems like a short period, but that's all it takes to contract deadly diseases.
Right now, I want so badly to have someone to blame. When I walked into the vet's office after work tonight, I didn't feel good. I could just sense it wasn't right. And I was correct. I was walked back and asked to make a decision on him. I hate being the one to make those decisions, but that's what I've been doing the last six years. Before me was a puppy I didn't know. Just a few days before, he had been bouncing around with his brothers, eating at my shoe laces and attaching himself to my pants leg as I tried to walk. But this puppy before me was not him. He was already gone. I couldn't let what was left continue to suffer. I turned towards the wall, banged my fist once, and just let the tears flow. It's a rare thing to see me cry. I pride myself on being strong. But in that dark hallway, looking through the door at my puppies, I just filled with anger and extreme sadness. The vet techs gave me my time as I stared. I couldn't stop and I couldn't stop the tears. Finally I told them to let him go. I was escorted to an exam room to wait and they closed the door behind me. I put my head in my hands and just continued to cry, alone. I would have to compose myself to call his adoptive family and tell them the news. But for now, I needed my time to grieve.
Dr. Sheller came in to talk to me. She was soft in her tone, told me about cases she had had before. I know the statistics, I know the survival rate is not always good. I lost six puppies last year, and I remember every single one of them. But it never gets easier. We talked about the remaining two, how one had improved so much, he tried to remove the catheter himself. The other was doing well but not as good as they wanted him to do. She wanted them to both stay overnight.
I walked out in silence. Sweet Amy at the front desk made a small gesture that she was sorry but didn't say anything. Most animal lovers never have to. We all love our pets and understand how terrible we would feel if it was one of ours. I grabbed my paperwork, got in the truck, and headed home.
I don't even remember the drive home, but I made it. It took me nearly two hours to do the feedings and medicines and cleanings tonight, something that usually takes half that. I finished and finally called all the families to update them on their puppies. I saved the worst for last. It was probably the hardest phone call I've ever had to make, and yet the gentleman was so kind to me. I was very calm and collected, but I'm sure he could hear a tint of sadness in my voice. I apologized profusely, but I really didn't know what more I could say. As I had been told at the vet's office, we did all that we could, we just can't save them all.
--- Rainbow Bridge ---
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.
Author Unknown
--- The Reason ---
I would've died that day if not for you.
I would've given up on life if not for your kind eyes.
I would've used my teeth in fear if not for your gentle hands.
I would have left this life believing that all humans don't care
Believing there is no such thing as fur that isn't matted
Skin that isn't flea bitten
Good food and enough of it
Beds to sleep on
Someone to love me
To show me I deserve love just because I exist.
Your kind eyes, your loving smile, your gentle hands
Your big heart saved me...
You saved me from the terror of the pound,
Soothing away the memories of my old life.
You have taught me what it means to be loved.
I have seen you do the same for other dogs like me.
I have heard you ask yourself in times of despair
Why you do it
When there is no more money, no more room, no more homes
You open your heart a little bigger, stretch the money a little tighter
Make just a little more room to save one more like me.
I tell you with the gratitude and love that shines in my eyes
In the best way I know how
Reminding you why you go on trying.
I am the reason
The dogs before me are the reason
As are the ones who come after.
Our lives would've been wasted, our love never given
We would die if not for you.
By Kim Senke-Rocka
Associate Executive Director
Heart Bandits American Eskimo Dog Rescue
Monday, January 5, 2009
Dog House 1, Lisa 0
Have you ever had a conversation with a person to tell them something and get a weird silence? That's been me the last two days trying to explain my black eye.
I grew up as a tomboy. I'm used to pain. I have scars all over my legs from climbing trees, swimming around oyster banks, and doing stunts with my bike. It wasn't unusual for me to return to our boat at the end of the day, covered in red welts from pine cone wars at the tree house. And yes, I was even in a scrap or two with my cousins. It all just builds character.
But when you are a month away from your 30th birthday, people expect you are no longer building forts in the marsh, jumping your bike, hanging out in oak trees, or throwing pine cones. I honestly wish I could have had even one of those as the start to my story, but no, I have a black eye because of a dog house.
Actually, I take that back. I have a black eye because Jazzabelle had to show us a new trick on Sunday. I had two new volunteers over for orientation to work the ranch once a week. I paired them up with Joey, my volunteer that comes every Sunday to take care of the dogs for me. I was inside working with a new volunteer managing our records. Joey came in to tell me that Jazz was on top of one of the kennels. I had to think about that a minute. All our kennels have mesh tarps on top to provide shade and keep cool in the warmer months. I asked how she got up there. I was told she used her dog house, jumped from it to the next kennel and was barking at Teddy from the roof. I walked outside, and sure enough, there she was. There is nothing this dog won't do. It's been a couple years since we had Cheyenne jump on top of one of my neighbor's roofs, so I guess at least this time it was on my own property.
I got Joey to follow me in the kennel to shift the dog house to the other side, where there was no gap in the tarp to allow an escape hatch for Jazz's new trick. In the process, I had to move a piece of pvc pipe, which we pound into the ground to discourage digging. This one was now located in the path of the dog house relocation, which could be blamed either on Jazz or her kennel mate Amber, but no one was answering my questions to accept blame. I pulled at it, it didn't come. I pulled again, and it gave way... smack into my left eye. I could feel my eye start to water, but I had to get the dog house moved while I still had help. I just squinted until we were done. I headed into the house and could just see a little bit. It didn't look that bad. But this morning, I really felt it, still feel it.
So there you have it. No exciting story about Savannah nightlife or great camping adventures. Nope, I got beat up because of a dog house.
I grew up as a tomboy. I'm used to pain. I have scars all over my legs from climbing trees, swimming around oyster banks, and doing stunts with my bike. It wasn't unusual for me to return to our boat at the end of the day, covered in red welts from pine cone wars at the tree house. And yes, I was even in a scrap or two with my cousins. It all just builds character.
But when you are a month away from your 30th birthday, people expect you are no longer building forts in the marsh, jumping your bike, hanging out in oak trees, or throwing pine cones. I honestly wish I could have had even one of those as the start to my story, but no, I have a black eye because of a dog house.
Actually, I take that back. I have a black eye because Jazzabelle had to show us a new trick on Sunday. I had two new volunteers over for orientation to work the ranch once a week. I paired them up with Joey, my volunteer that comes every Sunday to take care of the dogs for me. I was inside working with a new volunteer managing our records. Joey came in to tell me that Jazz was on top of one of the kennels. I had to think about that a minute. All our kennels have mesh tarps on top to provide shade and keep cool in the warmer months. I asked how she got up there. I was told she used her dog house, jumped from it to the next kennel and was barking at Teddy from the roof. I walked outside, and sure enough, there she was. There is nothing this dog won't do. It's been a couple years since we had Cheyenne jump on top of one of my neighbor's roofs, so I guess at least this time it was on my own property.
I got Joey to follow me in the kennel to shift the dog house to the other side, where there was no gap in the tarp to allow an escape hatch for Jazz's new trick. In the process, I had to move a piece of pvc pipe, which we pound into the ground to discourage digging. This one was now located in the path of the dog house relocation, which could be blamed either on Jazz or her kennel mate Amber, but no one was answering my questions to accept blame. I pulled at it, it didn't come. I pulled again, and it gave way... smack into my left eye. I could feel my eye start to water, but I had to get the dog house moved while I still had help. I just squinted until we were done. I headed into the house and could just see a little bit. It didn't look that bad. But this morning, I really felt it, still feel it.
So there you have it. No exciting story about Savannah nightlife or great camping adventures. Nope, I got beat up because of a dog house.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Just Another Saturday
The holidays are always a blur to so many people. But for me, most days are a blur. For example, this morning, my barking alarms went off before my radio alarm. I was going to have to be up early to pick up Gizmo from his overnight at the vet after his neuter yesterday, then scheduled three adoption interviews today. But after telling the dogs to let me snooze and hitting my actual alarm a few times, I realized I was cutting time close. I shoved all the big dogs out into the play yard, threw on the nearest sweatshirt covered in paw prints, my dirty tennis shoes because DaVinci still hasn't learned that ladies go first through doors, grabbed my keys and ran out the door. I completely forgot to brush my teeth, which I remembered as soon as I was greeted with a "hello" upon entering the vet's office. Luckily they keep a tin of peppermints on the counter, which I immediately grabbed and chewed. I was feeling good about it until I remembered that I hadn't brushed my hair eithere. Another Saturday morning and I'm 0 for 2.
I got Gizmo in the truck and headed home. Now, I'm a big dog person, but for whatever reason, my home has been inundated with lots of small breed yappiness, I mean happiness, recently. While Gizmo is a cute bundle of energy, he's one of those dogs that I was very excited to see get applications. So it was no surprise that before I even picked him up from the vet's office I had already scheduled his adoption. But I admit, I took a little joy watching him try to navigate through the front door with his lampshade (Elizabethan collar) around him, considering all the nights he woke me from deep, well, whatever slumber I might have been trying to steal.
So we got back to the ranch. I had to load a second crate in the car for Sonny's adoption interview, then grab a slip lead for the monstrous Teddy for his adoption interview as well. It's really sad. Teddy is such a wonderful, spirited dog, but is so overlooked because of his size and older age. But he's the only dog at the ranch that will play catch and fetch with me, so I think he's awesome.
An hour later, we were on the road, using the GPS mom and dad gave me for Christmas. I scheduled the adoptions for 1 pm, 2 pm and 3 pm. The first adoption was love at first sight. Sonny was in their arms, they signed the papers and sent me back out on the road quick than Domino's Pizza.
I typed in the address for the next interview, which turned out to be only a few streets away. I called the family to make sure they were ok with an early arrival. The wife answered and said she would be delighted to have us come sooner. I was even more thrilled than she as this was for Gizmo's new home. We arrived, got out of the truck, and I'm pretty sure little Gizie knew he was home. He played them from the moment we got out: wagging his tail, his little tongue sticking out because he was missing front teeth to keep it in, and even flopping over on his back to show how cute he was even for a two-and-a-half year old. He sauntered into the house, and stretched out to feel the cool hardwood beneath him. Gizmo just kept smiling, taking in his new digs and pretty much telling me it was time for us to part, that I could show myself out. It took just a little longer than the first family to get the contract signed, but I saw the look on the wife's face when she first bent down to pet him and knew she loved him right away.
I darn near skipped back to my truck. Two for two. I climbed into the truck and turned to scratch Teddy behind the ears. I gave him a pep talk. We were going to meet someone that wanted to meet him, but I didn't think it was going to be an actual adoption. I think Teddy is a great dog, but it's hard to get other people to see everything I see sometimes. I was now an hour ahead of schedule, so I called and of course, the potential adopter said come on over. Teddy was on his best behavior, or as best he could be. With so many new sights, so many new smells, it really is hard for a dog to control himself on a leash. We went inside and he settled down, sprawling his long legs on her kitchen floor. He indulged her petting and belly rubs, trying to comprehend why we were here and what was going on. It went about as I expected: she remarked what a beautiful dog he was, but his strength was a bit much for her I could tell. She wished us well and we headed back to the truck. I gave him a kiss on the head and told him we'd work harder for next time.
It was now after 2:30. We were headed home... almost. A text message went off. A foster family I needed to run some meds to was hanging out at Chili's. Since it was on my way, I decided to meet them there rather than have to run downtown again. I really hate driving. It's amazing the trips I used to take in college. I guess I do too much of it now and just hate it. We said our hellos, then I decided to grab a sub at Larry's on the way back. It was now after 3 and I hadn't yet had anything to eat. Teddy kept eying me, I could feel it on the back of my head. Every few traffic lights I'd give him a small bit of bread. I was proud of him for today, so I thought he deserved a treat.
We returned to the ranch only for me to discover that two dogs had torn apart the chainlink and chicken wire from their kennel doors and were running free in the yard. At least they were getting along. I put Teddy up, giving him a kennel that still had a cot since Amber had taken it upon herself to shred his two nights ago. I called Gary, my resident handyman guy for advice to fix the doors. Then I headed for my toolbox and rigged what I could, moved a few more pavers around, and stood back. If nothing else, it might annoy them enough to stop trying to break out for a little while. I headed back into the house and began the rounds of cleaning crates, refreshing water and administering meds.
Saturdays are usually event days, and Sundays are my reserved office days. But since I have four new volunteers coming tomorrow for training at the ranch, I would have to get everything I could done today. I was making good time, writing thank you notes, processing reciepts, updating pet pages, when I got a phone call from an adopter. Their puppy wasn't feeling good. An hour later, they were headed to the ER vet. Luckily, it was just coccidia and hookworms, even though they had been dewormed a week ago - which was just fabulous since watching them go potty for the two days before was like watching the Play-Doh go through the fun factory spagetti style - so the pup would get on fluids and stay overnight. They prepared me meds for the other puppies. So I called the other families to check on them. I decided to go to Richmond Hill to grab one and take him with me just in case. He got a shot, then his meds, and then we were on our way. It was now 8:30 pm and I was making a house call to Sonny. His family was very understanding. I gave him his meds, scratched his head, left my number and was out the door, headed, once again, back to the ranch.
What I failed to cover during this long night trip was my almost emotional breakdown. The work we do is very demanding. I was a nervous wreck when I found out the puppies were not feeling well. The last one here was doing fine, and they had just been to the vet yesterday morning before they were to go home. It broke my heart. We work so hard to make sure the adoptions go smoothly. I don't want adopters to spend their first or second nights worrying about their pups. It's supposed to be a happy experience. But we can't always catch everything. I had already told the ER vet we'd cover the expenses, it was the right thing to do. But I still felt awful. I needed to talk to someone, so I called the person I normally call. No answer. I called her other number... no answer. I called a third number... still no answer. Then I gripped the steering wheel hard. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream. I know so many people, so many who call me when they need something because they know I'll come running, but when I need someone to be there for me, I have no idea who to call or if anyone will even answer. I couldn't start crying. Walking into the ER vet or into an adopter's home with a puppy is a bad sign and gets people thinking the wrong thing. The puppy in my arms was yapping and licking my face, what sense would that make? So instead of having a breakdown in the truck on the way to the ER vet, I had a twenty minute conversation in my head self-talking out of a nervous breakdown just so no one would really know what was going on. Then to feel better, I went to, yet again, Arby's for a mint chocolate swirl shake. It's a very good thing there is not one near my house or I'd be a blimp again.
I got back home about 9. Time to take everyone out to go potty, re-feed some of the dogs, and give nighttime medicines. As usual, the noise level elevated as I walked through the door and tails wagged, always a good sign. Hannah was perched on the leather couch, her new favorite spot since I took the baby gate down just before Christmas. Though it was really helping to shape my abs, thighs and buttocks, carrying 40 pound bags of food over the gate into the kitchen had gotten old after a year and a half. I took great joy in medicating Peaches' puppies. Just a week ago I had been worried they wouldn't survive. Now, I was holding them in my hand, looking at their eyes wide open (between yawns) and feeling so much joy every time I held them.
Chores now over, it was time to head to the office to check email and finish up stuff for the volunteers coming tomorrow. That's when I got a message from my friend Cat. And for whatever reason, even after all these years and so much time apart, she's still a big cheerleader for me. She was encouraging and comforting, and of course, humoring me. I tease her so much for being a Yankee, but she is one of the greatest people I know. I suppose I always hold a special place for her as she was the one who nominated me for the Top 10 Working Women in Savannah list two years ago. So I gave her my rundown of the day/evening. After suggesting I approach Arby's for a sponsorship to support my habit and giving me permission to scream and cry, she told me something that really just made everything else melt away: "hey man, i'm an ideas person and you inspire ideas, what can i say." I've never thought of myself as inspiring. What I do with the rescue has always been looked at as a hobby, though very expensive and time consuming. But it made me feel like maybe I do have a chance at leaving an impact on this world, something I've always wanted to do. I thanked Cat for the conversation and for understanding me. Then in true Cat form she said something that just made me laugh: "well...it's either my incredibly incisive psych 101 or...you spend so much time talking to animals that there aren't any people who can live up to them." Everyone should be so blessed to have as good a friend as Cat.
So at the end of the day, here I am: a hopeless animal fanatic spending a Saturday night blogging about her day with the animals, checking out her friends on Facebook, watching "The Wedding Date" and chatting online with a close friend. I suppose there are worse ways to finish out a crazy Saturday.
I got Gizmo in the truck and headed home. Now, I'm a big dog person, but for whatever reason, my home has been inundated with lots of small breed yappiness, I mean happiness, recently. While Gizmo is a cute bundle of energy, he's one of those dogs that I was very excited to see get applications. So it was no surprise that before I even picked him up from the vet's office I had already scheduled his adoption. But I admit, I took a little joy watching him try to navigate through the front door with his lampshade (Elizabethan collar) around him, considering all the nights he woke me from deep, well, whatever slumber I might have been trying to steal.
So we got back to the ranch. I had to load a second crate in the car for Sonny's adoption interview, then grab a slip lead for the monstrous Teddy for his adoption interview as well. It's really sad. Teddy is such a wonderful, spirited dog, but is so overlooked because of his size and older age. But he's the only dog at the ranch that will play catch and fetch with me, so I think he's awesome.
An hour later, we were on the road, using the GPS mom and dad gave me for Christmas. I scheduled the adoptions for 1 pm, 2 pm and 3 pm. The first adoption was love at first sight. Sonny was in their arms, they signed the papers and sent me back out on the road quick than Domino's Pizza.
I typed in the address for the next interview, which turned out to be only a few streets away. I called the family to make sure they were ok with an early arrival. The wife answered and said she would be delighted to have us come sooner. I was even more thrilled than she as this was for Gizmo's new home. We arrived, got out of the truck, and I'm pretty sure little Gizie knew he was home. He played them from the moment we got out: wagging his tail, his little tongue sticking out because he was missing front teeth to keep it in, and even flopping over on his back to show how cute he was even for a two-and-a-half year old. He sauntered into the house, and stretched out to feel the cool hardwood beneath him. Gizmo just kept smiling, taking in his new digs and pretty much telling me it was time for us to part, that I could show myself out. It took just a little longer than the first family to get the contract signed, but I saw the look on the wife's face when she first bent down to pet him and knew she loved him right away.
I darn near skipped back to my truck. Two for two. I climbed into the truck and turned to scratch Teddy behind the ears. I gave him a pep talk. We were going to meet someone that wanted to meet him, but I didn't think it was going to be an actual adoption. I think Teddy is a great dog, but it's hard to get other people to see everything I see sometimes. I was now an hour ahead of schedule, so I called and of course, the potential adopter said come on over. Teddy was on his best behavior, or as best he could be. With so many new sights, so many new smells, it really is hard for a dog to control himself on a leash. We went inside and he settled down, sprawling his long legs on her kitchen floor. He indulged her petting and belly rubs, trying to comprehend why we were here and what was going on. It went about as I expected: she remarked what a beautiful dog he was, but his strength was a bit much for her I could tell. She wished us well and we headed back to the truck. I gave him a kiss on the head and told him we'd work harder for next time.
It was now after 2:30. We were headed home... almost. A text message went off. A foster family I needed to run some meds to was hanging out at Chili's. Since it was on my way, I decided to meet them there rather than have to run downtown again. I really hate driving. It's amazing the trips I used to take in college. I guess I do too much of it now and just hate it. We said our hellos, then I decided to grab a sub at Larry's on the way back. It was now after 3 and I hadn't yet had anything to eat. Teddy kept eying me, I could feel it on the back of my head. Every few traffic lights I'd give him a small bit of bread. I was proud of him for today, so I thought he deserved a treat.
We returned to the ranch only for me to discover that two dogs had torn apart the chainlink and chicken wire from their kennel doors and were running free in the yard. At least they were getting along. I put Teddy up, giving him a kennel that still had a cot since Amber had taken it upon herself to shred his two nights ago. I called Gary, my resident handyman guy for advice to fix the doors. Then I headed for my toolbox and rigged what I could, moved a few more pavers around, and stood back. If nothing else, it might annoy them enough to stop trying to break out for a little while. I headed back into the house and began the rounds of cleaning crates, refreshing water and administering meds.
Saturdays are usually event days, and Sundays are my reserved office days. But since I have four new volunteers coming tomorrow for training at the ranch, I would have to get everything I could done today. I was making good time, writing thank you notes, processing reciepts, updating pet pages, when I got a phone call from an adopter. Their puppy wasn't feeling good. An hour later, they were headed to the ER vet. Luckily, it was just coccidia and hookworms, even though they had been dewormed a week ago - which was just fabulous since watching them go potty for the two days before was like watching the Play-Doh go through the fun factory spagetti style - so the pup would get on fluids and stay overnight. They prepared me meds for the other puppies. So I called the other families to check on them. I decided to go to Richmond Hill to grab one and take him with me just in case. He got a shot, then his meds, and then we were on our way. It was now 8:30 pm and I was making a house call to Sonny. His family was very understanding. I gave him his meds, scratched his head, left my number and was out the door, headed, once again, back to the ranch.
What I failed to cover during this long night trip was my almost emotional breakdown. The work we do is very demanding. I was a nervous wreck when I found out the puppies were not feeling well. The last one here was doing fine, and they had just been to the vet yesterday morning before they were to go home. It broke my heart. We work so hard to make sure the adoptions go smoothly. I don't want adopters to spend their first or second nights worrying about their pups. It's supposed to be a happy experience. But we can't always catch everything. I had already told the ER vet we'd cover the expenses, it was the right thing to do. But I still felt awful. I needed to talk to someone, so I called the person I normally call. No answer. I called her other number... no answer. I called a third number... still no answer. Then I gripped the steering wheel hard. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream. I know so many people, so many who call me when they need something because they know I'll come running, but when I need someone to be there for me, I have no idea who to call or if anyone will even answer. I couldn't start crying. Walking into the ER vet or into an adopter's home with a puppy is a bad sign and gets people thinking the wrong thing. The puppy in my arms was yapping and licking my face, what sense would that make? So instead of having a breakdown in the truck on the way to the ER vet, I had a twenty minute conversation in my head self-talking out of a nervous breakdown just so no one would really know what was going on. Then to feel better, I went to, yet again, Arby's for a mint chocolate swirl shake. It's a very good thing there is not one near my house or I'd be a blimp again.
I got back home about 9. Time to take everyone out to go potty, re-feed some of the dogs, and give nighttime medicines. As usual, the noise level elevated as I walked through the door and tails wagged, always a good sign. Hannah was perched on the leather couch, her new favorite spot since I took the baby gate down just before Christmas. Though it was really helping to shape my abs, thighs and buttocks, carrying 40 pound bags of food over the gate into the kitchen had gotten old after a year and a half. I took great joy in medicating Peaches' puppies. Just a week ago I had been worried they wouldn't survive. Now, I was holding them in my hand, looking at their eyes wide open (between yawns) and feeling so much joy every time I held them.
Chores now over, it was time to head to the office to check email and finish up stuff for the volunteers coming tomorrow. That's when I got a message from my friend Cat. And for whatever reason, even after all these years and so much time apart, she's still a big cheerleader for me. She was encouraging and comforting, and of course, humoring me. I tease her so much for being a Yankee, but she is one of the greatest people I know. I suppose I always hold a special place for her as she was the one who nominated me for the Top 10 Working Women in Savannah list two years ago. So I gave her my rundown of the day/evening. After suggesting I approach Arby's for a sponsorship to support my habit and giving me permission to scream and cry, she told me something that really just made everything else melt away: "hey man, i'm an ideas person and you inspire ideas, what can i say." I've never thought of myself as inspiring. What I do with the rescue has always been looked at as a hobby, though very expensive and time consuming. But it made me feel like maybe I do have a chance at leaving an impact on this world, something I've always wanted to do. I thanked Cat for the conversation and for understanding me. Then in true Cat form she said something that just made me laugh: "well...it's either my incredibly incisive psych 101 or...you spend so much time talking to animals that there aren't any people who can live up to them." Everyone should be so blessed to have as good a friend as Cat.
So at the end of the day, here I am: a hopeless animal fanatic spending a Saturday night blogging about her day with the animals, checking out her friends on Facebook, watching "The Wedding Date" and chatting online with a close friend. I suppose there are worse ways to finish out a crazy Saturday.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
A Year in Review
Well, here we are... 2009. It was a ruff 2008. We managed to rescue 143 canines and 67 felines despite the odds against us.
We started the year out with several litters of puppies, many of which had the fatal parvovirus. We managed to save most though six puppies didn't make it. The losses were hard to take on our foster families, but we trudged on through. The litters of puppies were followed by litter after litter of kittens. Then it became adult dog after adult dog needing heartworm treatment. We rescued pets from Animal Controls in Chatham, Effingham and Liberty County, and then found ourselves rescuing animals that became victims of the economy. Junior was left at animal control after being hit by a car because his family couldn't afford his vet care. Hope was found by a landlord cleaning up after an eviction. She had an embedded collar in her neck from living more than a year on a chain and was left at the emergency vet. We picked her up and took charge of her care, which ended up also involving treatments for heartworms. We continued to take cats and dogs turned over to us by people having to downsize or relocate. A week before Christmas, I got to go trap two Shelties that had been abandoned when their home in Ardsley Park was foreclosed on 45 days ago. It still amazes me that no one ever knew they were there.
No doubt the economy played a huge role in our struggles this year. Our donations went down, and I mean way down. A lot of us were paying things ourselves as best we could. We even went one month without any adoptions, and here it is now January, and we still have dogs and cats that have been with us since July. Even Dutchess has been with us since last January when she was a puppy found thrown out on Pooler Parkway.
So what is my hope for 2009? Well, I did play the lotto when it hit 207 million, but we can all see that didn't pan out. I didn't even win enough to buy another ticket. So we're going to have to look at our strategies. Can we afford to keep our doors open? Do we have to limit the number of intakes each month? How can we recruit more foster homes to meet the intake demands? Will people ever get the hint that spaying and neutering is the only way to reduce pet overpopulation? Perhaps only time will tell. Till then, I'll keep saying my nightly prayers that good people will continue to support us as much as they can.
We started the year out with several litters of puppies, many of which had the fatal parvovirus. We managed to save most though six puppies didn't make it. The losses were hard to take on our foster families, but we trudged on through. The litters of puppies were followed by litter after litter of kittens. Then it became adult dog after adult dog needing heartworm treatment. We rescued pets from Animal Controls in Chatham, Effingham and Liberty County, and then found ourselves rescuing animals that became victims of the economy. Junior was left at animal control after being hit by a car because his family couldn't afford his vet care. Hope was found by a landlord cleaning up after an eviction. She had an embedded collar in her neck from living more than a year on a chain and was left at the emergency vet. We picked her up and took charge of her care, which ended up also involving treatments for heartworms. We continued to take cats and dogs turned over to us by people having to downsize or relocate. A week before Christmas, I got to go trap two Shelties that had been abandoned when their home in Ardsley Park was foreclosed on 45 days ago. It still amazes me that no one ever knew they were there.
No doubt the economy played a huge role in our struggles this year. Our donations went down, and I mean way down. A lot of us were paying things ourselves as best we could. We even went one month without any adoptions, and here it is now January, and we still have dogs and cats that have been with us since July. Even Dutchess has been with us since last January when she was a puppy found thrown out on Pooler Parkway.
So what is my hope for 2009? Well, I did play the lotto when it hit 207 million, but we can all see that didn't pan out. I didn't even win enough to buy another ticket. So we're going to have to look at our strategies. Can we afford to keep our doors open? Do we have to limit the number of intakes each month? How can we recruit more foster homes to meet the intake demands? Will people ever get the hint that spaying and neutering is the only way to reduce pet overpopulation? Perhaps only time will tell. Till then, I'll keep saying my nightly prayers that good people will continue to support us as much as they can.
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