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.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Being a Proud Second Mom
Ok, so I don't have kids. Right now, that's a good thing as I sure don't have the room. But on Saturday morning, I opened up my home to two moms and their litters because I just have a hard time not giving them a chance after all they do to keep their puppies alive and stay with them.One of the litters are three two-week-old puppies. Each pup fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. Their mom, Peaches, is only about 9 pounds, so you can imagine how tiny her babies are. But after I got them home, I discovered they had upper respiratory infections. Our vet was already closed so I called a rescue friend of mine in Bluffton. She nurses litters all the time, so I knew she'd have answers. I ended up loading mom and puppies back in the truck and driving to meet Karen at Petco in Bluffton. She took a look at the pups and gave me some pediatric amoxicillan for the babies. They would get it once a day and mom twice a day so she could pass it on to them through feedings. So back to Savannah we went.
I put mom up then set about to give the babies their medicines. They were so tiny, and even at that size, incredibly squirmy. You would think I could have better control, but I didn't. After a few minutes of a struggle, I finally got one cradled in my left arm, dropper in my right hand, and just watched as the baby nursed every little drop. It was so incredibly cute to watch him. When the dropper was empty, he made one more attempt to suck, then realizing he wasn't getting more, opened his little mouth as wide as he could and let out a big yawn. His little sandpaper-like tongue stuck out just an itsy bit, then he closed his mouth and settled into my arm. His eyes were sealed shut from the discharge, so we headed back to the bathroom where I got a warm, wet rag to gently remove it. He fussed just a tiny bit, but it was worth it. Even after I got it all out of his eyes, I noticed that his eyes were still shut. One of the other babies had his eyes opened already, and the little girl had started to open hers but she also had discharge that was helping to keep them closed. I took the little boy back to his mom, and proceeded to start the medication cycle with the other two babies.
For the next two days, I kept my eyes on them. I got them a snuggly bed that had been Hannah's when she was a baby. I put a small blanket on top of them, making sure they kept warm. Each time with the dropper they got a little better. Mom, however, did not. They really get their squirminess from her. She's 9 pounds of fireball when she wants to be, and medicine is not her thing. But by Monday afternoon, none of the puppies had runny noses, and my little crusty-eyed baby had finally opened his eyes! I just about squealed when I noticed it at medicine time yesterday afternoon. Poor Ryan was standing right behind me. Of course, he's just as much a sucker for little puppies as I am, which is why he volunteers at the ranch a couple times a week and takes puppies for playdates on the weekends. But I was just so proud of these babies. They had come so far; there had originally been seven in the litter, but only these three survived the two weeks at animal control. But now, they have a bright future ahead of them. No doubt there will be a rush to adopt once they are available. But for now, I'll enjoy playing second mom to them, watching them grow, seeing their little milestones. It's one of the pure joys of the work we do in rescue.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Finding Faith
It's a Monday. Like most people, I dislike Mondays only because my weekends are usually full of rescue work so I don't get to just relax and then I have to go back to work on Monday. This weekend was no exception.
On Saturday morning, I drove out to Springfield to Effingham County Animal Control to pick up a mom English Spaniel and her two puppies. I went to pick up 3, and left with 8. While I was in there, I found a young small breed mom and her three two-week-old puppies. Then I found a scared little Chihuahua girl who had unfortunately been kenneled next to two very aggressive ones. I opened up her cage and she darn near jumped out into my arms. No way I could put her back now. I got all 8 canines loaded into my truck and headed back in to pick up my paperwork. That's when I saw her.
Somehow, I had missed four dogs in outside runs. I later learned these are drop off kennels, where people can shove animals in when the animal control shelter is closed. I guess it is better than leaving them in the woods or on the street. Unlike the other dogs around her, she didn't make a noise. She just stood on her hind legs, poking her long snout through the chainlink as far as it could go. Her eyes showed so much sadness, but her little tail wag gave indication that she still had a little faith that someone could show her some kindness in her life. I walked over and looked her in the eye. She moved her head to the right, trying to get close to my hand. I scratched behind her ears and her eyes closed. Has she ever known how good that feels before? I could feel my eyes start to water. I've done this hundreds of times. I've said no so many times as well. I only have so much room, I'm only one person, my house is only so big. Then she got down, and I could finally see her full shape. Not one inch of meat on her body. One tear fell as my sadness turned to anger. How could anyone be so cruel?
Next to her kennel was a green leash someone had left when they dumped a dog. As quickly as I could, I turned it around and made a slip lead so I could get her out of her kennel. She didn't understand what I was doing. I put it around her, then opened up the kennel door. She stood there. I gave a tug and out she came, legs shaking and head down. She had no confidence whatsoever. I walked her into the animal control office and began asking questions. I was told she had been left overnight and they had just logged her in. I begged them to let me take her, but the law says they have to hold for three days. I asked that if I microchipped her quickly, since it would be in the rescue's name if that would prove ownership and I could take her. It was farfetched, but I was willing to do just about anything to take her right then. Of course I was told no, and as I didn't really want to cause too much trouble, I agreed that I would be back the first thing on Monday morning. I handed her lead to a volunteer standing nearby and ran to my truck to get out a can of food for her. One of the other volunteers told me she'd go get more canned food and make sure that my little girl would be fed just that. I gave them the instructions, small meals more frequently so she wouldn't gorge herself, and was promised they would be followed. I knelt down beside my girl and wrapped my arms around her, put my face beside hers and whispered in her ear a promise that I would be there exactly when the doors opened on Monday to get her home. I'm sure she didn't believe me, why would she? No one else has bothered to care about her before.
It was hard to let go, but I had to get back and get to the vet appointments I had already scheduled for these animals. It was after 10 am now and we had a 45 minute drive ahead of us. And it wasn't a quiet one. I couldn't take my mind off my little hound girl, hurting inside knowing how lonely she must feel. I had the sounds of crying puppies and a slightly cantankerous mom in the back. Luckily for me, we have some of the most fabulous vets that work with us, and Dr. Hassan and her staff agreed to see everyone I had in the truck even though my appointment was only for three. It only took two hours for them all.
We got everyone in the truck, back to the ranch and settled. A couple hours later, I got an email from one of our volunteers about some dogs at Chatham County Animal Control. I agreed to take two Chihuahuas that had been a breeding pair and were dumped off by their breeder, the female of which was pregnant, and an older Chesapeake Bay Retriever mix female. What's a few more, right? But all weekend, I just could not stop thinking about the one I didn't get, and for once, Monday couldn't come soon enough.
So this morning, I was up at 10 till seven. I had to get as many of the dogs out and fed as I could before my drive. I wanted to be there right when the doors opened at 8:30 am. As it turned out, I was nine minutes later. And it was raining. How appropriate. But there she was, still in the same kennel where I found her as there was no more room inside the shelter for her. I walked up, reached my hand through and smiled. I had kept my promise. She wagged her tail. I walked in and waved, a huge grin on my face. "I'm back," I yelled over the sounds of barking from the other kennels. My paperwork was filled out and we headed so I could get my girl. I decided to name her Faith. I had the kennel manager video my taking her out. I wanted other people to see what it's like those first moments that we make a rescue. For me, it's a huge thrill every time.
We got Faith in the truck and gave her a little food for the ride. Then we were on the road. I kept looking in my rear view mirror to check on her, like a nervous new mom. She would curl up in a ball for a few minutes, then get up and move to another spot. She did that for about 20 minutes before she finally settled in just behind my seat. I smiled again.
So here I sit, writing the beginning of Faith's journey towards a new life. I have her in a crate in my office so she'll have a lot of interaction with me and learn what it is to have someone care about her. I have to keep feeding her small meals; she eats everything so fast, obviously worried she won't be fed again. That usually takes a few weeks or longer for them to learn. But now she's curled up in a ball, sleeping peacefully. At 4:30, we'll head to the vet. I'll bet it's her first time ever seeing one. I'll almost bet money that she has hookworms, tapeworms and heartworms. But at least it's all treatable. She's safe now, and that's what matters.
On Saturday morning, I drove out to Springfield to Effingham County Animal Control to pick up a mom English Spaniel and her two puppies. I went to pick up 3, and left with 8. While I was in there, I found a young small breed mom and her three two-week-old puppies. Then I found a scared little Chihuahua girl who had unfortunately been kenneled next to two very aggressive ones. I opened up her cage and she darn near jumped out into my arms. No way I could put her back now. I got all 8 canines loaded into my truck and headed back in to pick up my paperwork. That's when I saw her.
Somehow, I had missed four dogs in outside runs. I later learned these are drop off kennels, where people can shove animals in when the animal control shelter is closed. I guess it is better than leaving them in the woods or on the street. Unlike the other dogs around her, she didn't make a noise. She just stood on her hind legs, poking her long snout through the chainlink as far as it could go. Her eyes showed so much sadness, but her little tail wag gave indication that she still had a little faith that someone could show her some kindness in her life. I walked over and looked her in the eye. She moved her head to the right, trying to get close to my hand. I scratched behind her ears and her eyes closed. Has she ever known how good that feels before? I could feel my eyes start to water. I've done this hundreds of times. I've said no so many times as well. I only have so much room, I'm only one person, my house is only so big. Then she got down, and I could finally see her full shape. Not one inch of meat on her body. One tear fell as my sadness turned to anger. How could anyone be so cruel? Next to her kennel was a green leash someone had left when they dumped a dog. As quickly as I could, I turned it around and made a slip lead so I could get her out of her kennel. She didn't understand what I was doing. I put it around her, then opened up the kennel door. She stood there. I gave a tug and out she came, legs shaking and head down. She had no confidence whatsoever. I walked her into the animal control office and began asking questions. I was told she had been left overnight and they had just logged her in. I begged them to let me take her, but the law says they have to hold for three days. I asked that if I microchipped her quickly, since it would be in the rescue's name if that would prove ownership and I could take her. It was farfetched, but I was willing to do just about anything to take her right then. Of course I was told no, and as I didn't really want to cause too much trouble, I agreed that I would be back the first thing on Monday morning. I handed her lead to a volunteer standing nearby and ran to my truck to get out a can of food for her. One of the other volunteers told me she'd go get more canned food and make sure that my little girl would be fed just that. I gave them the instructions, small meals more frequently so she wouldn't gorge herself, and was promised they would be followed. I knelt down beside my girl and wrapped my arms around her, put my face beside hers and whispered in her ear a promise that I would be there exactly when the doors opened on Monday to get her home. I'm sure she didn't believe me, why would she? No one else has bothered to care about her before.
It was hard to let go, but I had to get back and get to the vet appointments I had already scheduled for these animals. It was after 10 am now and we had a 45 minute drive ahead of us. And it wasn't a quiet one. I couldn't take my mind off my little hound girl, hurting inside knowing how lonely she must feel. I had the sounds of crying puppies and a slightly cantankerous mom in the back. Luckily for me, we have some of the most fabulous vets that work with us, and Dr. Hassan and her staff agreed to see everyone I had in the truck even though my appointment was only for three. It only took two hours for them all.
We got everyone in the truck, back to the ranch and settled. A couple hours later, I got an email from one of our volunteers about some dogs at Chatham County Animal Control. I agreed to take two Chihuahuas that had been a breeding pair and were dumped off by their breeder, the female of which was pregnant, and an older Chesapeake Bay Retriever mix female. What's a few more, right? But all weekend, I just could not stop thinking about the one I didn't get, and for once, Monday couldn't come soon enough.
So this morning, I was up at 10 till seven. I had to get as many of the dogs out and fed as I could before my drive. I wanted to be there right when the doors opened at 8:30 am. As it turned out, I was nine minutes later. And it was raining. How appropriate. But there she was, still in the same kennel where I found her as there was no more room inside the shelter for her. I walked up, reached my hand through and smiled. I had kept my promise. She wagged her tail. I walked in and waved, a huge grin on my face. "I'm back," I yelled over the sounds of barking from the other kennels. My paperwork was filled out and we headed so I could get my girl. I decided to name her Faith. I had the kennel manager video my taking her out. I wanted other people to see what it's like those first moments that we make a rescue. For me, it's a huge thrill every time.
We got Faith in the truck and gave her a little food for the ride. Then we were on the road. I kept looking in my rear view mirror to check on her, like a nervous new mom. She would curl up in a ball for a few minutes, then get up and move to another spot. She did that for about 20 minutes before she finally settled in just behind my seat. I smiled again.
So here I sit, writing the beginning of Faith's journey towards a new life. I have her in a crate in my office so she'll have a lot of interaction with me and learn what it is to have someone care about her. I have to keep feeding her small meals; she eats everything so fast, obviously worried she won't be fed again. That usually takes a few weeks or longer for them to learn. But now she's curled up in a ball, sleeping peacefully. At 4:30, we'll head to the vet. I'll bet it's her first time ever seeing one. I'll almost bet money that she has hookworms, tapeworms and heartworms. But at least it's all treatable. She's safe now, and that's what matters.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Breaking the Christmas Streak
Ever since 1996, my Christmases have been anything but happy times for me. That year, I lost my grandfather on the 13th. I remember every moment of that day so vividly. I was leaving to go to school. My dad was driving me because I was going to be going to UGA for the School Art Symposium, where my artwork had been accepted. I was walking down the front steps when he came behind me and said, "Your mom just called. Your grandfather passed. We'll be going to Atlanta when you get back." Anyone who knows my dad knows he has the same straight face all the time. I've never seen my dad cry in my life. He's always been a solid rock through anything and everything that ever faced our family. I take after him for the most part, but do a lot of crying in private. Anyhow, after Pawpa passed, Christmas was never the same. Every December, something happened to me or a member of my family that just made Christmas time stink. My junior year of college, I decided to stop going to north Georgia with my parents for Christmas. I was more content to just ride it out alone. But a couple years ago I went, and on Christmas Eve, we buried my brother's father (we have same mom but different dads). It was the first Christmas I had seen my entire family.
This December started out just like all the other Decembers. I came down with walking pneumonia. The rescue was broke. I was broke and had no idea how I was going to pay all the medical bills which I found out my insurance wasn't covering. My freelance jobs had run out. Then my truck battery died... at 10 pm, as I was leaving to go get canned puppy food and puppy pads. At least it died in the driveway so I could stay warm in the house while I waited for my roadside assistance to come. But then something strange happened... the tow truck guy saw how distressed I was and at 11 pm offered to follow me to Wal-Mart where I could buy a battery and he'd replace it for me for free. It was so cold that night, of course, I am a wuss about cold most anytime. But the fact that someone was going out of their way to help me out, really changed my whole mood. I was so incredibly thankful to him. And from there, things started to get a little better: I had 8 adoptions in one weekend, picked up a freelance job, got well, and had beautiful, warm weather to give me more time outside, which I love. I even had volunteers from the Savannah Jewish Federation's Trading Places on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day who gave me a big break from taking care of the dogs two nights in a row and left us donations as well. But my big surprise came on Christmas Day.
My parents are very patient people. I can't imagine how disappointed they must have been to work so hard to keep me in Catholic schools for 12 years to see me grow up and not follow the path they thought. My mom really expected me to go corporate, like my brother did. He's been with the same company (though they've changed names umpteen times) since I was in fifth grade. My dad wanted me to follow through with my acceptance to the Coast Guard Academy. But I did neither. I sorta made my path as I went. I never expected that putting myself through college would land me running an animal rescue. It started as a hobby and grew into something so much more, but it's keep me from getting a higher paying job, most likely away from Savannah, and living in a nice, big home like my siblings all have or driving a fancy car. Maybe it's because I was the only child raised on Tybee that I don't have a materialistic drive. I'm content with making just enough money to get by every month (ok, so a bit more than that wouldn't hurt). But come on, what did they expect of me? I got to spend a lot of years without heat, air conditioning and hot water. I've worked since I was 13. If nothing else, my parents instilled in me a very strong work ethic and the drive to never do anything halfway.
So anyhow, back to why this Christmas was great. The weekend before, there were no gifts under my tree. Heck, I had been so sick I hadn't bothered to decorate the tree, but at least it was fiber optic so it had some color to it. My friend, Jeremy, left me a big, beautifully wrapped box, and my parents came and dropped off the gifts they got me before they headed out of town. Now my tree looked a little less bare. I even opened up my door one morning to find a box from a foster parent, and my good friends Heather and Todd left me a card in my tree. And they were all such wonderful surprises. My parents got me four things I asked for my animal rescue work: steel toe boots, cargo pants, a weather radio, and emergency roadside kit. But one gift they gave me that I didn't ask for: a GPS system. I was so excited! I called my mom that morning and nearly screamed. She told me it was something she and my dad decided I needed for all the places I drive for the rescue. That really meant so much to me. The fact that they understand where my heart is made my Christmas so much more special. Then of course there was the lunchtime cookout with Betty and Charles and my little Sparky, followed by a fabulous dinner with two couples from the rescue, the people who have become my extended family.
So, all these years later, I've once again found the spirit of Christmas. I am truly blessed to have good friends, parents who support me, and on occasions, strangers who will give a helping hand. So here's looking forward to next Christmas!
This December started out just like all the other Decembers. I came down with walking pneumonia. The rescue was broke. I was broke and had no idea how I was going to pay all the medical bills which I found out my insurance wasn't covering. My freelance jobs had run out. Then my truck battery died... at 10 pm, as I was leaving to go get canned puppy food and puppy pads. At least it died in the driveway so I could stay warm in the house while I waited for my roadside assistance to come. But then something strange happened... the tow truck guy saw how distressed I was and at 11 pm offered to follow me to Wal-Mart where I could buy a battery and he'd replace it for me for free. It was so cold that night, of course, I am a wuss about cold most anytime. But the fact that someone was going out of their way to help me out, really changed my whole mood. I was so incredibly thankful to him. And from there, things started to get a little better: I had 8 adoptions in one weekend, picked up a freelance job, got well, and had beautiful, warm weather to give me more time outside, which I love. I even had volunteers from the Savannah Jewish Federation's Trading Places on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day who gave me a big break from taking care of the dogs two nights in a row and left us donations as well. But my big surprise came on Christmas Day.
My parents are very patient people. I can't imagine how disappointed they must have been to work so hard to keep me in Catholic schools for 12 years to see me grow up and not follow the path they thought. My mom really expected me to go corporate, like my brother did. He's been with the same company (though they've changed names umpteen times) since I was in fifth grade. My dad wanted me to follow through with my acceptance to the Coast Guard Academy. But I did neither. I sorta made my path as I went. I never expected that putting myself through college would land me running an animal rescue. It started as a hobby and grew into something so much more, but it's keep me from getting a higher paying job, most likely away from Savannah, and living in a nice, big home like my siblings all have or driving a fancy car. Maybe it's because I was the only child raised on Tybee that I don't have a materialistic drive. I'm content with making just enough money to get by every month (ok, so a bit more than that wouldn't hurt). But come on, what did they expect of me? I got to spend a lot of years without heat, air conditioning and hot water. I've worked since I was 13. If nothing else, my parents instilled in me a very strong work ethic and the drive to never do anything halfway.
So anyhow, back to why this Christmas was great. The weekend before, there were no gifts under my tree. Heck, I had been so sick I hadn't bothered to decorate the tree, but at least it was fiber optic so it had some color to it. My friend, Jeremy, left me a big, beautifully wrapped box, and my parents came and dropped off the gifts they got me before they headed out of town. Now my tree looked a little less bare. I even opened up my door one morning to find a box from a foster parent, and my good friends Heather and Todd left me a card in my tree. And they were all such wonderful surprises. My parents got me four things I asked for my animal rescue work: steel toe boots, cargo pants, a weather radio, and emergency roadside kit. But one gift they gave me that I didn't ask for: a GPS system. I was so excited! I called my mom that morning and nearly screamed. She told me it was something she and my dad decided I needed for all the places I drive for the rescue. That really meant so much to me. The fact that they understand where my heart is made my Christmas so much more special. Then of course there was the lunchtime cookout with Betty and Charles and my little Sparky, followed by a fabulous dinner with two couples from the rescue, the people who have become my extended family.
So, all these years later, I've once again found the spirit of Christmas. I am truly blessed to have good friends, parents who support me, and on occasions, strangers who will give a helping hand. So here's looking forward to next Christmas!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Forclosed and Abandoned
We all know it's a ruff economy right now. I've been watching as our donations trickled to nothing and adoptions halted completely. There has been nothing worse than having to tell animals "no" every day because we have no more room, no more money, and no help in sight.
But for whatever reason, when I got the call on Wednesday about two abandoned collies (actually shelties) at a foreclosed home in Ardsley Park, I just couldn't bring myself to say no. I was told they were skittish and there was no idea on how long they had been left there (I later learned that the house had been owned by the bank for at least 45 days). I was at work but agreed to come over that evening and trap them after my board meeting. I sat back and thought about it. How many of these calls do I have to keep taking? I've had several landlords give us pets after people were evicted, and poor Hope lived on a chain for who knows how long before the landlord came and found her. Too many people ignore a problem because they don't hear about it. So, I invited WJCL's Stephanie Simoni to join me and show people what is happening in our area and how the economy is affecting pets.
So a little before 8 pm I arrived. It's a neighborhood adorned with Christmas lights and beautiful homes. Lawns are perfectly manicured, vehicles more expensive than I can look at parked on the road. It's not a place I would expect to come for these dogs. In the center of all this is a dark blob, a house that once stood with grandeur and hospitality to guests now something that even Sherman would have ignored. Furniture, trash out on the front lawn and old appliances and boxes cluttered the driveway. I changed clothes, donned my hat and headlamp, grabbed a slip lead and the new Maglite my daddy had given me and began headed to the backyard for the rescue. I swear I could have watched this on animal planet. We could have used Jeff Corwin to navigate the overgrowth.
My heart sank when we got into the backyard. The pool was pitch black, and apparently the only water source for the dogs. There was trash everywhere. The only food available was what the real estate agents had brought that day. What had these dogs been eating all this time to keep alive? I crawled around, setting out food balls strategically, getting them to smell it and hopefully entice them to come near. After about thirty minutes we got a lucky break: we spooked them enough to run into an open door in a sunroom. Now it was just a matter of approaching them slowly to get leads on them and get them out.
I got the first one on lead, and she just cowered down. It took a little longer to get the second one as she kept trying to hide under things. We ended up carrying them out in our arms to the truck as they weren't willing to walk on lead. The whole way home, they never made one sound in the truck. I took their silence to be a good sign, possibly that of relief and hope. I made a quick pit stop for dinner for me, as it was already 9:30 pm and I had worked up an appetite. I laughed as I walked into Arby's and got a strange look: I didn't realize just how dirty I had gotten during our rescue, but I was wearing it with pride.
When we arrived back to the ranch, I unloaded the girls still in their crates into the back yard. I took everyone else out to do their thing then proceeded to ready the grooming room, aka my spare bathroom, for a bath. I didn't realize I'd be there till nearly 2 am. I did Ardslea first. Her's wasn't that bad. A 45-minute brushing with the Furminator got a lot off of her. She was so patient, never moved the entire time. It must have felt so wonderful. Then I put her in the tub and started the water. She got a little nervous, but after a minute just stood there. We latered, rinsed, repeated. No more fleas, no more stinky smell. The towel drying went well, until I brought out the blow dryer. Lord knows if she's ever been groomed before, probably not, but that poor little dryer took a beating once she got ahold of it. I settled for putting towels down in a crate and letting her air dry. I wiped down the floors and proceeded to get Parka.
I'm not a groomer, never have been, never will be, but I am awfully proud of my job on Parka. I sat down with scissors to start cutting her mats. I then realized one entire side was just on big mat. A few years ago, I had bought an electric razor to use on a cocker spaniel named Honey. I hadn't used it since, but was so thankful it was within easy reach. I spent an hour and a half shaving poor Parka's fur. Her tail had been matted to her leg and underside, forcing her to eliminate on herself. I can't even begin to describe the smell and what all fell out when I freed her tail. But like her sister, she just sat there, letting me do my thing. When I got all the matted fur off, I put her in the tub. Obviously tired and knowing that this was the best, she stretched her legs out and lied down, waiting for me to do whatever. We did two shampoos to help get all the stench off the poor girl. She had to feel 1000 times better by now. I will say that she took the dryer much better than her sister, but since she was shaved, there was also less fur to be dryed. I walked her in and put her in the crate with Ardslea and went back to clean up. I came back through 30 minutes later, and there they were, curled up with each other asleep. I smiled and headed to the office to upload photos and send a couple of emails before heading to bed. After all, it was 2:45 am and I'd have to be up by 6 to do my morning chores before heading to work.
I took Ardslea and Parka to Dr. Hassan at Georgetown Veterinary Clinic on Friday. The girls were nervous but at least walking on a leash now. Everyone at the clinic knew them already; we had watched the story on WJCL's 6:00 news together the night before when I was picking Levi up from his neuter. I left them to get their shots, heartworm test, and microchip and check to see if they were already spayed. Luckily, yes, they were spayed, but sadly, they were both also heartworm positive. We'll have to wait two months to start their treatments to give them time to get used to proper nutrition and people again.
I took them back home and to their own kennel space and began to put out their food and water. It was then that I felt something on my shoulder. I turned to look, and it was Ardslea, pawing at me. I sat still for a minute and she did it again. I couldn't stop smiling. I put my arms around her and hugged her, scratching her behind the ears and telling her what a good girl she was. I put the food dish down and walked away, knowing that the girls are going to be ok, and we did something really good this week.
Video online:
http://www.thecoastalsource.com/news/local/36434669.html
But for whatever reason, when I got the call on Wednesday about two abandoned collies (actually shelties) at a foreclosed home in Ardsley Park, I just couldn't bring myself to say no. I was told they were skittish and there was no idea on how long they had been left there (I later learned that the house had been owned by the bank for at least 45 days). I was at work but agreed to come over that evening and trap them after my board meeting. I sat back and thought about it. How many of these calls do I have to keep taking? I've had several landlords give us pets after people were evicted, and poor Hope lived on a chain for who knows how long before the landlord came and found her. Too many people ignore a problem because they don't hear about it. So, I invited WJCL's Stephanie Simoni to join me and show people what is happening in our area and how the economy is affecting pets.
So a little before 8 pm I arrived. It's a neighborhood adorned with Christmas lights and beautiful homes. Lawns are perfectly manicured, vehicles more expensive than I can look at parked on the road. It's not a place I would expect to come for these dogs. In the center of all this is a dark blob, a house that once stood with grandeur and hospitality to guests now something that even Sherman would have ignored. Furniture, trash out on the front lawn and old appliances and boxes cluttered the driveway. I changed clothes, donned my hat and headlamp, grabbed a slip lead and the new Maglite my daddy had given me and began headed to the backyard for the rescue. I swear I could have watched this on animal planet. We could have used Jeff Corwin to navigate the overgrowth.
My heart sank when we got into the backyard. The pool was pitch black, and apparently the only water source for the dogs. There was trash everywhere. The only food available was what the real estate agents had brought that day. What had these dogs been eating all this time to keep alive? I crawled around, setting out food balls strategically, getting them to smell it and hopefully entice them to come near. After about thirty minutes we got a lucky break: we spooked them enough to run into an open door in a sunroom. Now it was just a matter of approaching them slowly to get leads on them and get them out.
I got the first one on lead, and she just cowered down. It took a little longer to get the second one as she kept trying to hide under things. We ended up carrying them out in our arms to the truck as they weren't willing to walk on lead. The whole way home, they never made one sound in the truck. I took their silence to be a good sign, possibly that of relief and hope. I made a quick pit stop for dinner for me, as it was already 9:30 pm and I had worked up an appetite. I laughed as I walked into Arby's and got a strange look: I didn't realize just how dirty I had gotten during our rescue, but I was wearing it with pride.
When we arrived back to the ranch, I unloaded the girls still in their crates into the back yard. I took everyone else out to do their thing then proceeded to ready the grooming room, aka my spare bathroom, for a bath. I didn't realize I'd be there till nearly 2 am. I did Ardslea first. Her's wasn't that bad. A 45-minute brushing with the Furminator got a lot off of her. She was so patient, never moved the entire time. It must have felt so wonderful. Then I put her in the tub and started the water. She got a little nervous, but after a minute just stood there. We latered, rinsed, repeated. No more fleas, no more stinky smell. The towel drying went well, until I brought out the blow dryer. Lord knows if she's ever been groomed before, probably not, but that poor little dryer took a beating once she got ahold of it. I settled for putting towels down in a crate and letting her air dry. I wiped down the floors and proceeded to get Parka.
I'm not a groomer, never have been, never will be, but I am awfully proud of my job on Parka. I sat down with scissors to start cutting her mats. I then realized one entire side was just on big mat. A few years ago, I had bought an electric razor to use on a cocker spaniel named Honey. I hadn't used it since, but was so thankful it was within easy reach. I spent an hour and a half shaving poor Parka's fur. Her tail had been matted to her leg and underside, forcing her to eliminate on herself. I can't even begin to describe the smell and what all fell out when I freed her tail. But like her sister, she just sat there, letting me do my thing. When I got all the matted fur off, I put her in the tub. Obviously tired and knowing that this was the best, she stretched her legs out and lied down, waiting for me to do whatever. We did two shampoos to help get all the stench off the poor girl. She had to feel 1000 times better by now. I will say that she took the dryer much better than her sister, but since she was shaved, there was also less fur to be dryed. I walked her in and put her in the crate with Ardslea and went back to clean up. I came back through 30 minutes later, and there they were, curled up with each other asleep. I smiled and headed to the office to upload photos and send a couple of emails before heading to bed. After all, it was 2:45 am and I'd have to be up by 6 to do my morning chores before heading to work.
I took Ardslea and Parka to Dr. Hassan at Georgetown Veterinary Clinic on Friday. The girls were nervous but at least walking on a leash now. Everyone at the clinic knew them already; we had watched the story on WJCL's 6:00 news together the night before when I was picking Levi up from his neuter. I left them to get their shots, heartworm test, and microchip and check to see if they were already spayed. Luckily, yes, they were spayed, but sadly, they were both also heartworm positive. We'll have to wait two months to start their treatments to give them time to get used to proper nutrition and people again.
I took them back home and to their own kennel space and began to put out their food and water. It was then that I felt something on my shoulder. I turned to look, and it was Ardslea, pawing at me. I sat still for a minute and she did it again. I couldn't stop smiling. I put my arms around her and hugged her, scratching her behind the ears and telling her what a good girl she was. I put the food dish down and walked away, knowing that the girls are going to be ok, and we did something really good this week.
Video online:
http://www.thecoastalsource.com/news/local/36434669.html
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Give Thanks by Giving of Yourself
As we approach the big Thanksgiving holiday, most people are thinking about all the things they are thankful for: family, friends, what is left in their 401K. I'm no different. I'm very thankful for the leadership team at Coastal Pet Rescue, the ones you don't see on TV but give all they have to get the pets into our program, properly cared for, and adopted. I'm thankful for the volunteers and foster parents that give of their time and homes to give our pets a second chance. I'm thankful for my supportive parents who still come to my rescue when I need them.
But today was a bit different. At the office (for my real, paying job), our production manager got all six of us to agree to join her at a blood drive at Second Harvest Food Bank. Turns out, we weren't the only ones that had the same idea as it was a drive coordinated by the Tourism Leadership Council. When we arrived, there was a line, so three of us had to wait, outside, in the cold wind. After 30 minutes I decided to move my truck closer so the other two girls and I could stay warm inside. Another 20 minutes later we were finally able to get in the blood mobile. An hour later, I was giving blood (the other two girls were turned away).
I have never given blood before. I always joke that I only save animals, which is why I'm a Red Cross instructor for Pet First Aid and CPR. I only recently got my certification for Adult First Aid, CPR and AED only because it was recommended by United Animal Nation's EARS program, for which I just got certified last month. I told the lady taking the blood that I was only there out of peer pressure. In fact, four of us were going for the first time. But as I sat up, a little dizzy from the drain, I actually felt a little good for helping people for once. We were each given a Christmas ornament featuring a white dove and the Red Cross logo. Underneath was a small card, "May the joy of giving keep you warm this holiday season."
This Thanksgiving, I encourage you to do something for others that you wouldn't normally do. Perhaps the best way to show your thanks is to pay it forward. You just never know when it might come back to you.
Sidenote:
Here's a quick way you can help others. The Second Harvest Foodbank of Coastal Georgia is a finalist for $100,000 worth of tuna. All they need to win are your votes. You can vote up to 3 times per day with your email address. Click here to lend a hand to your community now.
But today was a bit different. At the office (for my real, paying job), our production manager got all six of us to agree to join her at a blood drive at Second Harvest Food Bank. Turns out, we weren't the only ones that had the same idea as it was a drive coordinated by the Tourism Leadership Council. When we arrived, there was a line, so three of us had to wait, outside, in the cold wind. After 30 minutes I decided to move my truck closer so the other two girls and I could stay warm inside. Another 20 minutes later we were finally able to get in the blood mobile. An hour later, I was giving blood (the other two girls were turned away).
I have never given blood before. I always joke that I only save animals, which is why I'm a Red Cross instructor for Pet First Aid and CPR. I only recently got my certification for Adult First Aid, CPR and AED only because it was recommended by United Animal Nation's EARS program, for which I just got certified last month. I told the lady taking the blood that I was only there out of peer pressure. In fact, four of us were going for the first time. But as I sat up, a little dizzy from the drain, I actually felt a little good for helping people for once. We were each given a Christmas ornament featuring a white dove and the Red Cross logo. Underneath was a small card, "May the joy of giving keep you warm this holiday season."
This Thanksgiving, I encourage you to do something for others that you wouldn't normally do. Perhaps the best way to show your thanks is to pay it forward. You just never know when it might come back to you.
Sidenote:
Here's a quick way you can help others. The Second Harvest Foodbank of Coastal Georgia is a finalist for $100,000 worth of tuna. All they need to win are your votes. You can vote up to 3 times per day with your email address. Click here to lend a hand to your community now.
Friday, November 21, 2008
The Quest for New Jeans
Ok, so the word is out... I have lost 31 pounds since May 19th. I've gotten lots of compliments, mostly in the form of "wow, look at you." Ok yes, I know I was heavier the last two years than most people have ever known me to be in my life. But I ate my feelings, then the dogs ran it all off. So back to the jeans thing...
I have exactly one pair of jeans that fit me properly. They are left over from my college days and somehow missed the Goodwill transport two years ago. I feel great when I can wear them. The problem is I usually have to change clothes at least twice a day thanks to the pups. The other jeans I have are very loose and let's face it, I'm looking to strut the weight loss a little. Since I had a little down time tonight, I took myself to Savannah Mall, thinking I'd find something to make me feel great. What I found was frustration.
I hate clothes shopping. There are too many choices, and I never know if I'm really getting something that is in style. I much prefer comfort, just as my flip flops, shorts and tank tops, but that's not working for me with this weather right now. I don't remember the last time I went shopping for jeans, but I was incredibly frustrated tonight. Most were "low rise" and "boot cut" or "flare leg," none of which made me feel good. In fact, I was either worried about showing plumber's crack or tripping over my pants. Then there were all the different wash types and the instructions that some of the jeans would have to be washed separately before wearing. Again, this is not helping me to keep a simple and comfortable lifestyle if I have to wash one pair of jeans by themselves. I went through six stores and did not find a single pair I liked. I don't understand the trends today. Perhaps that is a sign that I'm getting older.
All the shopping and trying on clothes made me hungry, so I headed to the food court. I bounced back and forth trying to decide what would satisfy my palate. I ended up at Chik-Fil-A with a #1 combo. I found a seat a little hidden by the plants where I could watch the Hawks game without too many people looking at me like a loser, eating alone in the food court on a Friday night. But truth be told, I love doing that kind of thing. Usually, I'm at Barnes and Noble for a couple hours. I just love books, and since most people in there are fellow geeks and nerds as well, I never feel bad hanging out alone there. But for whatever reason, I really just don't care that I eat out alone so often. I don't have to worry about someone else thinking I'm a pig if I eat my dessert first or if I only order dessert at all. Of course, if I want to keep fitting into a size six jeans I'm going to have to learn to curb my fast food cravings. If nothing else, I can keep doing laps around the mall to work it all off.
So what was the point of this blog? Who knows. It's been a long couple of weeks, I have 12 dogs sleeping in my kitchen because of the cold, and I'm alone for the holidays again. Maybe Santa will bring me a personal shopper this year or better yet, the winning lottery numbers so I can move somewhere that I won't have to wear jeans ever again.
I have exactly one pair of jeans that fit me properly. They are left over from my college days and somehow missed the Goodwill transport two years ago. I feel great when I can wear them. The problem is I usually have to change clothes at least twice a day thanks to the pups. The other jeans I have are very loose and let's face it, I'm looking to strut the weight loss a little. Since I had a little down time tonight, I took myself to Savannah Mall, thinking I'd find something to make me feel great. What I found was frustration.
I hate clothes shopping. There are too many choices, and I never know if I'm really getting something that is in style. I much prefer comfort, just as my flip flops, shorts and tank tops, but that's not working for me with this weather right now. I don't remember the last time I went shopping for jeans, but I was incredibly frustrated tonight. Most were "low rise" and "boot cut" or "flare leg," none of which made me feel good. In fact, I was either worried about showing plumber's crack or tripping over my pants. Then there were all the different wash types and the instructions that some of the jeans would have to be washed separately before wearing. Again, this is not helping me to keep a simple and comfortable lifestyle if I have to wash one pair of jeans by themselves. I went through six stores and did not find a single pair I liked. I don't understand the trends today. Perhaps that is a sign that I'm getting older.
All the shopping and trying on clothes made me hungry, so I headed to the food court. I bounced back and forth trying to decide what would satisfy my palate. I ended up at Chik-Fil-A with a #1 combo. I found a seat a little hidden by the plants where I could watch the Hawks game without too many people looking at me like a loser, eating alone in the food court on a Friday night. But truth be told, I love doing that kind of thing. Usually, I'm at Barnes and Noble for a couple hours. I just love books, and since most people in there are fellow geeks and nerds as well, I never feel bad hanging out alone there. But for whatever reason, I really just don't care that I eat out alone so often. I don't have to worry about someone else thinking I'm a pig if I eat my dessert first or if I only order dessert at all. Of course, if I want to keep fitting into a size six jeans I'm going to have to learn to curb my fast food cravings. If nothing else, I can keep doing laps around the mall to work it all off.
So what was the point of this blog? Who knows. It's been a long couple of weeks, I have 12 dogs sleeping in my kitchen because of the cold, and I'm alone for the holidays again. Maybe Santa will bring me a personal shopper this year or better yet, the winning lottery numbers so I can move somewhere that I won't have to wear jeans ever again.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Who I Am
Recently, I've had some interesting discussions with friends, giving me perspectives about the person they think I am. Some are dead on, others, I think I should defend but maybe they are right as well. Regardless, the findings have been insightful and given me lots to think about.
"Rough around the edges." Ok, yeah, that's not really new. I give some blame of that to my father. Anyone that has ever met the man knows he speaks very little and never tells anyone anything good that he thinks of them. I'm very guilty of this, though I have tried much harder in the last year to do better. I still have some work to do. I'm also very guilty of saying what I'm thinking rather than pausing to reflect before I speak. Maybe that will be a new year's resolution.
"Suspicious [of others] until proven otherwise." It's no state secret that I've been hurt a lot in my life. Those that I allow into my inner circle didn't get in overnight. I take my time building my trust in others. I don't necessarily see this as a bad thing. Too often I have given trust too soon only to be made the fool or worse. So I'm a little protective of myself. It seems fair to be; the only one who is going to look out for me is me.
"Zealot." Ok, really, that I think was a bit much. Yes, I'm very passionate about my animal rescue, but I'm nowhere near the level of "zealot." I much prefer "passionatly determined." Just look at all these cute faces that enter my house with histories of abuse. Wouldn't you be, too?
"Stubborn." Once again, an attribute that is completely my father's genetics. While I may be set in doing things my way, I'm also set in making sure things happen. Yes, I may have run over a person or two along the way, but I'm learning to be better about listening to others before barreling down the road.
I really think these are only small parts of me. I consider myself a simple person (I'm not into materialistic things) who enjoys the comforts of her friends and a good companion. My favorite attire is shorts, tank top and flip flops, and I'll wear them most anywhere. I despise wearing makeup, but understand it is sometimes necessary for a greater good. I'm not a fan of designer labels for anything, though my favorite pair of jeans are my size 8 Tommy Hilfigure's since I love the way it shows off my 31 pounds of weight loss. My favorite foods are chocolate, ice cream and steak, though right now I love chili and roasted marshmellows. I am not a fan of cooking though I love to grill out (I make a fantastic grilled meditteranean chicken). I am a Parrothead, and my lifelong dream has been to meet Jimmy Buffett in person one day. I don't have a single MP3 CD in my truck that doesn't have at least 10 of his songs on it.
I'm also a hopeless romantic. I'm a great fan of Jane Austen and Kate Chopin. I enjoy writing short stories and poetry and listening to love songs on the radio or watching sappy movies on TV. I'm content to sit for hours on the north beach jetties, listening to the waves under the starlight or driving around town with the windows rolled down and wind whipping my hair around listening to my favorite soundtrack.
I also love to learn. If I had my way, I'd be in school again right now. I already have my sights set on my Humane Educator certification in 2009, and possibly a masters degree in public relations. It's not uncommon to find me late at night strolling around Barnes and Nobel breaking the bank with new finds.
On the education topic, I'm also a huge computer geek. It's not uncommon to find me online very late at night working on a project or website or just reading to see what else is out there. While I can troubleshoot lots of things, working on computers outside my home is not something I enjoy. There's a reason I don't work at Best Buy.
I am an incredibly dedicated person, not just to my passions, but to my friends. Since I take time to get to know folks before I trust them, there is very little to sway that trust once it is earned. I have driven across state lines late at night to be with someone who needed me, and on more than one occasion, I've left my comfy and snuggly bed to give someone a ride home from River Street. There is very little I won't do for those I care about anytime I'm asked.
But even greater than all this is my desire to be a mom one day. I've been teased about having lots of practice with the pets, and often times I think there is just no way I could handle a child as frustrated as I get with certain dogs at the ranch. But there's just something in me as I've gotten older that has the desire to share my loves of life with offspring.
So maybe there's something to Shrek's theory about onions and layers, though like Donkey, I much prefer a parfait from Dairy Queen.
"Rough around the edges." Ok, yeah, that's not really new. I give some blame of that to my father. Anyone that has ever met the man knows he speaks very little and never tells anyone anything good that he thinks of them. I'm very guilty of this, though I have tried much harder in the last year to do better. I still have some work to do. I'm also very guilty of saying what I'm thinking rather than pausing to reflect before I speak. Maybe that will be a new year's resolution.
"Suspicious [of others] until proven otherwise." It's no state secret that I've been hurt a lot in my life. Those that I allow into my inner circle didn't get in overnight. I take my time building my trust in others. I don't necessarily see this as a bad thing. Too often I have given trust too soon only to be made the fool or worse. So I'm a little protective of myself. It seems fair to be; the only one who is going to look out for me is me.
"Zealot." Ok, really, that I think was a bit much. Yes, I'm very passionate about my animal rescue, but I'm nowhere near the level of "zealot." I much prefer "passionatly determined." Just look at all these cute faces that enter my house with histories of abuse. Wouldn't you be, too?
"Stubborn." Once again, an attribute that is completely my father's genetics. While I may be set in doing things my way, I'm also set in making sure things happen. Yes, I may have run over a person or two along the way, but I'm learning to be better about listening to others before barreling down the road.
I really think these are only small parts of me. I consider myself a simple person (I'm not into materialistic things) who enjoys the comforts of her friends and a good companion. My favorite attire is shorts, tank top and flip flops, and I'll wear them most anywhere. I despise wearing makeup, but understand it is sometimes necessary for a greater good. I'm not a fan of designer labels for anything, though my favorite pair of jeans are my size 8 Tommy Hilfigure's since I love the way it shows off my 31 pounds of weight loss. My favorite foods are chocolate, ice cream and steak, though right now I love chili and roasted marshmellows. I am not a fan of cooking though I love to grill out (I make a fantastic grilled meditteranean chicken). I am a Parrothead, and my lifelong dream has been to meet Jimmy Buffett in person one day. I don't have a single MP3 CD in my truck that doesn't have at least 10 of his songs on it.
I'm also a hopeless romantic. I'm a great fan of Jane Austen and Kate Chopin. I enjoy writing short stories and poetry and listening to love songs on the radio or watching sappy movies on TV. I'm content to sit for hours on the north beach jetties, listening to the waves under the starlight or driving around town with the windows rolled down and wind whipping my hair around listening to my favorite soundtrack.
I also love to learn. If I had my way, I'd be in school again right now. I already have my sights set on my Humane Educator certification in 2009, and possibly a masters degree in public relations. It's not uncommon to find me late at night strolling around Barnes and Nobel breaking the bank with new finds.
On the education topic, I'm also a huge computer geek. It's not uncommon to find me online very late at night working on a project or website or just reading to see what else is out there. While I can troubleshoot lots of things, working on computers outside my home is not something I enjoy. There's a reason I don't work at Best Buy.
I am an incredibly dedicated person, not just to my passions, but to my friends. Since I take time to get to know folks before I trust them, there is very little to sway that trust once it is earned. I have driven across state lines late at night to be with someone who needed me, and on more than one occasion, I've left my comfy and snuggly bed to give someone a ride home from River Street. There is very little I won't do for those I care about anytime I'm asked.
But even greater than all this is my desire to be a mom one day. I've been teased about having lots of practice with the pets, and often times I think there is just no way I could handle a child as frustrated as I get with certain dogs at the ranch. But there's just something in me as I've gotten older that has the desire to share my loves of life with offspring.
So maybe there's something to Shrek's theory about onions and layers, though like Donkey, I much prefer a parfait from Dairy Queen.
Celebrate the Holidays Safely with Your Pets
It’s a season of giving, but giving too much can be hazardous for your pets.
While you sit with your family at the dinner table, it’s not uncommon to want to give in to those sad puppy eyes staring at you from their bland food bowl.
But sharing food from the dinner table is not the proper treat. Many holiday foods can actually be toxic to pets or cause great illness. Some foods to avoid include turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, yams, stuffing, tomatoes, bread dough, mushrooms, grapes, raisins, raw eggs, anything with onions or garlic, milk, chocolate, caffeine, and alcoholic beverages. Avoid the temptation to give pets bones as cooked bones splinter easily and can cause choking.
If you want your pet to feel included, purchase food items specifically for them from local pet specialty stores. And remember to wrap and store leftovers immediately after dinner. There is very little to stop a determined pet who has been eying your turkey for most of the day.
In addition to food, families should be cautious of hazardous items around their home, including lit candles, potpourri, wrapping paper and ornaments. It is especially critical to keep poinsettias out of reach as they are very toxic to pets.
If you have a concern about something your pet may have ingested, you can call the Pet Poison Helpline at 800.213.6680. If your pet is showing signs of distress, call your veterinarian or the Veterinary Emergency and Specialty Referral Center at 912.356.6113.
(originally posted Nov. 12, 2007 on SavannahPets.org)
While you sit with your family at the dinner table, it’s not uncommon to want to give in to those sad puppy eyes staring at you from their bland food bowl.
But sharing food from the dinner table is not the proper treat. Many holiday foods can actually be toxic to pets or cause great illness. Some foods to avoid include turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, yams, stuffing, tomatoes, bread dough, mushrooms, grapes, raisins, raw eggs, anything with onions or garlic, milk, chocolate, caffeine, and alcoholic beverages. Avoid the temptation to give pets bones as cooked bones splinter easily and can cause choking.
If you want your pet to feel included, purchase food items specifically for them from local pet specialty stores. And remember to wrap and store leftovers immediately after dinner. There is very little to stop a determined pet who has been eying your turkey for most of the day.
In addition to food, families should be cautious of hazardous items around their home, including lit candles, potpourri, wrapping paper and ornaments. It is especially critical to keep poinsettias out of reach as they are very toxic to pets.
If you have a concern about something your pet may have ingested, you can call the Pet Poison Helpline at 800.213.6680. If your pet is showing signs of distress, call your veterinarian or the Veterinary Emergency and Specialty Referral Center at 912.356.6113.
(originally posted Nov. 12, 2007 on SavannahPets.org)
Monday, November 10, 2008
A Victory to Keep Going
I had another fabulous trip to an area ER last Thursday for chest pains again. It's been a couple years since it happened. I thought I had done better about managing stress, but the last couple of weeks have really taken a toll on me.
We spent a lot of months with little adoptions and few donations. But things are looking up. We've had six adoptions over the weekend and a few more scheduled. Our big Yappy Hour event is this coming Saturday, and we're hopeful this will raise enough to pay off our vet bills.
I was finally starting to get my numbers down at the house. But on the way to the Yappy Hour planning meeting, I saw a mom and her two puppies in a yard. The trailer was a little run down, and mom and her babies were really close to the road. I slowed down, trying to be subtle and as to make sure the person following me didn't hit me. I argued with myself, do I stop or not? I had already rescued Cora from just a short way down the road. It's not unusual to see the dogs running back and forth, scaveging for food. I decided to keep going though and that if I saw them on the way back, I would stop for them.
A couple hours later, I was on the way back home. I almost thought of going a different way. I was pressed for time to meet a potential adopter. But I went along, and sure enough, there was mom with the two babies once again. Two vehicles were in the yard this time and a male was standing out in the yard with them, just watching, not interacting at all. Fear overcame me and I drove past. Despite what people might think, I'm really a very passive person and I hate confrontation. But the thought of the skinny mom trying to take care of those babies as the weather gets colder was enough to make me turn around and try.
I was amazed at how calm I was. It almost felt like someone else was speaking for me. I was incredibly diplomatic and asked to see the puppies. The young man said I could have them, that all her puppies were free because she just "keeps dropping them." I learned that this was not her first litter at all and that there were more puppies, but they were all gone. I wanted to take mom, to put an end to the cycle and give her a better chance. I could already see the puppies had wormy bellies and were full of fleas. They were eating wet adult food, not even puppy food. I decided to give the kid my card and tell him if they decided they wanted mom to go live somewhere else, I would take her. Honestly, I didn't know where I would put her, but it would have to be a better life than what she had going on.
I drove home with the two puppies. The smell filled my car so quickly on the short drive. I was eager to get them bathed, but as soon as I started, the potential adopter showed. I introduced him to his potential pup and took to the bath. The poor babies were covered in fleas and dirt, the water ran nearly black. Each puppy cried, completely unsure of what was going on. I dried them off and put them in a crate together along with puppy food and water. They dove into the food dish almost as if they had never seen food before. It broke my heart. The potential adopter left, and I sat back watching the puppies, wondering just how many more of them there might have been and where they are now. About 30 minutes later, the young man called and told me I could come get the mom. I sprinted out the door, down the street and was welcomed so warmly by his mom who was eager to sign the papers to get the dog out of her place.
I see so many dogs that come in and are so eager for attention. We put so much work into them to give them a better life that they usually leave much different than their arrival. As I sat alone in the ER last week, I had thought that my time had come to walk away from rescue, that I had done the best I could with what I had. But despite the defeats, I found a lot of victories this weekend. And that's what I ended up naming my newest momma dog, Victory, as a reminder to me that while not every battle is won, we are making a lot of progress.
We spent a lot of months with little adoptions and few donations. But things are looking up. We've had six adoptions over the weekend and a few more scheduled. Our big Yappy Hour event is this coming Saturday, and we're hopeful this will raise enough to pay off our vet bills.
I was finally starting to get my numbers down at the house. But on the way to the Yappy Hour planning meeting, I saw a mom and her two puppies in a yard. The trailer was a little run down, and mom and her babies were really close to the road. I slowed down, trying to be subtle and as to make sure the person following me didn't hit me. I argued with myself, do I stop or not? I had already rescued Cora from just a short way down the road. It's not unusual to see the dogs running back and forth, scaveging for food. I decided to keep going though and that if I saw them on the way back, I would stop for them.
A couple hours later, I was on the way back home. I almost thought of going a different way. I was pressed for time to meet a potential adopter. But I went along, and sure enough, there was mom with the two babies once again. Two vehicles were in the yard this time and a male was standing out in the yard with them, just watching, not interacting at all. Fear overcame me and I drove past. Despite what people might think, I'm really a very passive person and I hate confrontation. But the thought of the skinny mom trying to take care of those babies as the weather gets colder was enough to make me turn around and try.
I was amazed at how calm I was. It almost felt like someone else was speaking for me. I was incredibly diplomatic and asked to see the puppies. The young man said I could have them, that all her puppies were free because she just "keeps dropping them." I learned that this was not her first litter at all and that there were more puppies, but they were all gone. I wanted to take mom, to put an end to the cycle and give her a better chance. I could already see the puppies had wormy bellies and were full of fleas. They were eating wet adult food, not even puppy food. I decided to give the kid my card and tell him if they decided they wanted mom to go live somewhere else, I would take her. Honestly, I didn't know where I would put her, but it would have to be a better life than what she had going on.
I drove home with the two puppies. The smell filled my car so quickly on the short drive. I was eager to get them bathed, but as soon as I started, the potential adopter showed. I introduced him to his potential pup and took to the bath. The poor babies were covered in fleas and dirt, the water ran nearly black. Each puppy cried, completely unsure of what was going on. I dried them off and put them in a crate together along with puppy food and water. They dove into the food dish almost as if they had never seen food before. It broke my heart. The potential adopter left, and I sat back watching the puppies, wondering just how many more of them there might have been and where they are now. About 30 minutes later, the young man called and told me I could come get the mom. I sprinted out the door, down the street and was welcomed so warmly by his mom who was eager to sign the papers to get the dog out of her place.
I see so many dogs that come in and are so eager for attention. We put so much work into them to give them a better life that they usually leave much different than their arrival. As I sat alone in the ER last week, I had thought that my time had come to walk away from rescue, that I had done the best I could with what I had. But despite the defeats, I found a lot of victories this weekend. And that's what I ended up naming my newest momma dog, Victory, as a reminder to me that while not every battle is won, we are making a lot of progress.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Feeling Indifferent on Election Day
I'll be honest, I thought about skipping out on voting. I was so completely turned off by all the political ads, the bs "he said, she said" back and forth, and the fact that no choice seems to match anything close to the values and lifestyle I lead. I can't help but feel that I'm not alone, that many others out there also feel indifferent about voting. I no longer see candidates who actually represent their constituents. McCain has how many houses and I have to work how many jobs to pay for my one? Obama wants to give more to people who don't make as much but then I might get to keep less of what I've earned for myself. I want someone in office who lives similarly to me, paycheck to paycheck, that really understands my situation and will work to make things better. But instead, we've made our elections process something in which only people who are fiscally well-off can participate. I don't want to see ads about how this candidate or that understands where I come from. I don't remember reading about McCain working with his family since he was a child helping to make ends meet and learning that Santa can't grant every wish at Christmas or that you can't just go to the mall and get whatever you want when you want. And how many winters did Obama spend without heat or hot water? Give me a candidate that has done the best and made something positive of themselves with what little they were given and then I'll give a darn enough to vote.
And that's just national elections. The local ones aren't much better. People running for office have been unresponsive to my requests for help for a very long time, and one candidate, whom I've known since 8th grade, still cannot remember my name anytime he sees me in public even though he's presented me with two national awards in my life. However, when I'm out with my parents, who are big campaign contributors each election, I at least get greeted with a smile and a handshake.
I guess it's a good thing that I have a mom who still cares about and believes in the system. Between her nagging and the offers from Krispy Kreme and Ben and Jerry's, I'm actually going to make it to the polls today.
And that's just national elections. The local ones aren't much better. People running for office have been unresponsive to my requests for help for a very long time, and one candidate, whom I've known since 8th grade, still cannot remember my name anytime he sees me in public even though he's presented me with two national awards in my life. However, when I'm out with my parents, who are big campaign contributors each election, I at least get greeted with a smile and a handshake.
I guess it's a good thing that I have a mom who still cares about and believes in the system. Between her nagging and the offers from Krispy Kreme and Ben and Jerry's, I'm actually going to make it to the polls today.
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