We Are Not a Shelter, and I Do Not Get Paid

I don't know how many times I have to reiterate this. Animal rescue is a very tough business to be in, but even tougher when you have limited space and no income.

I wear a lot of different hats and have lots of people to communicate with on a daily basis. I also work full time as a web programmer, work part time as an animal care worker at Animal Control, and am enrolled full-time through Duquesne University. Basically, I don't sleep. So it is a little frustrating when people are pushy with me. Just today I had an email from someone that had sent us some hand-made bedding for kittens. I had already written her that we didn't have any at the time, but appreciated the gift and hoped to use them later. Instead, I went to using them for our very young puppies (I did try it with Sia, but she much preferred her litter box). So imagine how disheartened I was today to get an email demanding me to return the items to her because they were not being used as specified. Our supplies are always limited and we use evertyhing that we can. It is probably my fault because I didn't overwhelm her with gratitude. I had assumed that my simple thank you and acknowledgement was enough. But it wasn't. So I took the one away that Dixie had been using, placed it in a plastic bag, and put it in a box to be returned. We were blessed last month to have Peggy donate a bag of baby blankets, so although it is larger than I wanted for Dixie (didn't want to smother her), it did provide a comfy alternative.

Why is it so hard for people to do nice things without great expectations in return? We always send a hand-written thank you to our donors, and I like to think we are very approachable. But geez, can't we get some consideration for our time? Everyone who works with us does so for their love of animals; none of us receive any montetary compensation. We answer emails on our own free time, which is already limited by work, school, and family life. Sometimes, we have to prioritize how/when people are contacted. We have a secretary that returns all voicemail, an adoption coordinator who handles all correspondence for adoption, a foster coordinator to handle some of the intake and veterinary requests, and a TNR coordinator that handles all correspondence relating to our feral cat program. That leaves all other correspondence to me, which can be anywhere from 80 to 200 emails a day. So yes, it may take a day or so or longer to get a response from me, but I really do the best I can.

And as for us being a shelter, I really don't know how best to explain this. We are not a shelter. We do not have a physical facility that you can drop in anytime you want. We're a foster home organization. The animals live with us in our homes. Again, this means our free time is given up to provide veterinary care, socialization, training, and rehabilitation. So yes, you have to have an appointment to meet one of our pets. And when you do arrive at my house, do not expect Martha Stewart to live here. It is me and the dogs. If it is a long week like this one, there may be laundry in a basket waiting to be folded that has been sitting for four days, dog fur that hasn't been vacuumed in a week, Cutters Point frappe cups stacked on the coffee table, and maybe even a Pizza Hut box on the end table. Or even a hair dryer and wet towels in the corner from the last round of baths.

So please, cut me a little break, will you? I am only one person, and I am really doing the best I can. If you disagree, come spend one day with me and see just how much one person can accomplish in 24 hours, or take a proactive approach and become a volunteer.

Extreme Make-over: Home Edition - Puppy Style

I just love watching the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition every Sunday. A few years ago, I drew up the plans of what I hoped to build for the rescue after watching several episodes. Tonight, I decided to bathe Mickey before I went to bed, so he'd be clean for his stay at the vet the next few days for his heartworm treatment.

Let me start off by saying that Mickey is a wonderful dog. He's very good, usually, for me. He loves to be near me, have my attention. For this reason, I thought I could take on an under 40 pound husky on my own in the shower... I was wrong. He's lean, and determined. His fur really should probably be shaved down so new, healthier fur can grow, but instead, I went for a full shampoo. I used almost an entire bottle, as Husky fur is very thick. I underestimated that, despite him being lean, anything I put on him he could turn into bathroom decor... and he did. And the hallway. And the kitchen. The floors are now cleaner, too, since I had to wipe up all the shampoo paw prints and water he traced throughout the house.

The good news is that we finally came to an understanding and after thirty minutes of negotiating, got all the shampoo out of the fur. The bad news is his part of the negotiations did not allow for a blow drying, so instead, I had to put more towels down on the floor in the kitchen for him to dry himself. Ugh. But at least I'll feel less like the vet will want to call doggy DFACS on me tomorrow since he at least smells a little better. It's a darn good thing he can't talk though...

Intruder in the House

Crazy Dog Lady. Husky Lover. Mutts R Us. I'm always associated as a dog rescuer. Well, normally, that's what will be found in my house. But few people know that when I started in rescue seven years ago, I was really a, gasp, cat rescuer. Yep, I always had a cat or litter of kittens (or two) at home, and only one dog once I got out of college. So imagine the shock to my pack when the cries they heard from the carrier coming through the door this afternoon was not the typical howl of a Husky puppy, but the cries of an annoyed Siamese kitten. Yes, the cries of a ticked off kitty. This is a sound I have not heard in many years. Sia, as I am calling her, is a little confused by her new surrounding, though I would call it a considerable upgrade from her cage at animal control. I think she is going for some sort of kitty meowing record, as her mouth hasn't shut since she got home. Guess I know how my dad must have felt when I was a child.

Question from the Sidelines

A question was posted about a week ago by a new CPR volunteer:

Is it difficult when the pet you fostered actually gets adopted out?

As the president of this organization, I'm charged to balance emotion with logic in our operations. However, there are times that I do get emotionally invested in our pets, and have been known to shed a tear or two when they go to their new homes. Since I take in so many special needs pets (heartworms, parvo, abuse, neglect, etc), I go through a rollercoaster with some of them, trying to get them healthy, get them socialized, overcome obstacles. It's not easy to go from holding a pet on an IV, wondering if they will make it through the night, to sending it to its new home, knowing it may be a very long time before you see it again.

I try to keep the mentality that for each one that is adopted, the space is opened to bring another into rescue. Which is probably why my house is always so full. But it makes it easier when the adoptive families send us photos and updates. It's reaffirming that we are doing good and indeed changing lives, one at a time.

A Foster Mom's Heartache

I don't have children. I hope to some day, but for now, all I have are my foster babies. I can't imagine what a mom must feel for her flesh and blood, but all I know right now is the devastation from watching a puppy suffer for the last few days. I thought even though I recognized the signs and rushed him to the vet early enough, that maybe Tyler would be ok the next day. It hasn't happened yet. My vet told me today, "just when we think we know everything about Parvo, it changes." My heart hurts. I was so happy when I walked into the kennel this morning and he sat up on his haunches and flapped his tail, but I could see it was a struggle for him. The drool was still hanging from his mouth from his latest episode, the IV wire limiting his moving radius. He closed his eyes as I scratched behind his ears, telling him that everything was going to be fine, he had good doctors looking after him. He didn't respond much, just sat there. Thursday he had been out running with my older dogs, and today, it seemed a struggle for him to sit up. No matter how much I smiled at him this morning, how much I told him it would all be ok, I could feel anything but when I left. I remember the two puppies we had a year ago, littermates... one made it through, the other didn't. There's no reason why. I feel helpless as I sit here, praying, hoping that my little boy will come through. I won't get to see him again until Monday. A lot can happen in that time. Why, why can't people properly care for their pets?