Because Nothing Connects Us With The Good Like A Puppy Coming Home

I don't know about you, but I needed this.

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Your Feel-Good for the Day. Or the Week.

How cool is this?

High school cross-country team take shelter dogs out for a run. Read the story here, and watch the video the team's coach (and mastermind behind the whole idea) posted on Facebook.

Kudos, St. Joseph High School. Here's to more kids (and adults, and schools, and offices, and... well, people) following your example.

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"My Dog Has A Job?" — Guest Post by Lynne Hinkey (@LMHinkey)

Lynne Hinkey is a marine scientist by training, a writer by passion, and a curmudgeon by nature. An Olympic-caliber procrastinator, she honed her skill through years of practice and dedication to life on island-time. She uses her experiences living in the Caribbean to infuse her novels with tropical magic, from the siren call of the islands to the terror and hysteria caused by the mysterious chupacabra. 

P.S. from Guilie: And she *loves* dogs.

"He really, really likes his job."

Huh? I wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe I was just skeptical of everything this woman said. I'd only come to the "Doggy Psychic" because it was a fundraiser for a dog rescue organization. I happily paid the $25 to sit in a room with this woman for 15 minutes to hear some broad generalizations that could apply to any dog since the money would help other dogs. But this didn't sound like a generalization. For starters, I was pretty sure Muggle didn't have a job.

I've had enough terriers and pit bulls to know it's important for some high-energy breeds to have enough physical and mental stimulation so they don't become destructive out of boredom or frustration. Those dogs need a job. Muggle is not that kind of dog. He came to us, a rescue from a kill shelter, with no training. He'd needed some obedience, but otherwise was perfectly content to lie on the sofa all day. 

"What job is that?" I asked. 

She sat quietly, eyes closed, one hand on my dog's head. "He really loves that you make him think and learn new things. He sees it as his job." Muggle had entered the room with me only minutes earlier, walked directly to her, and rested his chin in her lap. He'd sat there ever since. After a long moment, she opened her eyes. "You do agility with him, don't you? He's thinking about weave poles." 

We had just started learning the weave poles in our agility class. 

When we took our first obedience lesson at the local agility club, I had no intention of ever doing actual agility. Like most people, when I thought of agility I envisioned wild-fast, crazy-smart Border Collies, and brilliant handlers with years of experience who clearly needed infinite free time to train their dogs to do such amazing feats. That wasn't me! Yet here we were, ten months later, doing agility. How did that happen?

We went to the local agility club because their obedience classes were at a convenient location. Since they are an agility club, all of their obedience classes include agility foundation skills. So, we learned some basic handling and even a few obstacles like jumps, tunnels, and the boggle board (the start of learning to go over a teeter). Then we kept on learning because we were having fun and becoming a team.

Muggle and his trusty biped teammate.
(Photo credit: Matt Drobnik)

Muggle learned obedience commands and how to navigate the obstacles. I learned all about positive reinforcement and the use of shaping. He learned to think and solve problems. I learned how to give him the information he needed and to trust he would do what I asked. He trusted me to reward him for doing what had evidently become his "job." 

Agility is a great way to go beyond just meeting a (rescue) dog's physical needs of food and shelter, and provide them with mental stimulation. The thinking part of an agility class can use up excess energy more effectively than a long run. It gives dogs a job to do—one that will satisfy them (and you), and leave them fulfilled and tired. Agility builds their confidence and trust in you, and minimizes the difficulties that can come with any new dog, especially rescues that may have unknown trauma in their past. 

Agility isn't only for Border Collies, Aussies, and herding dogs, and it isn't about winning ribbons and titles (not that those are bad things—we've earned a few ourselves!). First and foremost, it's about spending time with our dogs and the bond that forms and strengthens when we work as a team. 

Muggle and Lynne. Impossible not to feel the sheer joy here.
(Photo credit: Matt Drobnik)

It's about giving them a sense of achievement.

Whether you aspire to compete, or just have fun, agility is a great way to build a strong bond with your dog, rescue or not. It's easy to get started, even if you don't have a local agility or dog sport club. Any dog trainer who uses positive reinforcement, clicker-training, and/or shaping can help with the obedience portion (a simple sit, stay, and down). Then you do want to make sure to train your dog to safely perform the obstacles. There are also loads of helpful videos on YouTube to help get you started in your own house or yard. I guarantee, you'll have a lot of fun, and your dog will love his or her new job. 

Muggle, in absolute-focus mode
(Photo credit: Matt Drobnik)

Here are a few videos to get you and your agility teammate started: 

 ~ How to Make a Pet Agility Course ~ 

 ~ Shaping Behavior ~ 

 ~ Teaching Basic Jumping Skills ~ 

 ~ Teaching Left and Right to Your Agility Dog ~ 

~ * ~

Lynne's short stories and essays have appeared in a number of print and online publications. Her debut novel, Marina Melee, follows George Marshall as he trades in the corporate rat race for life on a tropical island only to find the easy life is hard work. In her second novel, Ye Gods! A Tale of Dogs and Demons, Jack Halliman is looking for a cure to his writer's block but instead finds a dead body and becomes one of two suspects in a murder investigation. The other suspect is the chupacabra. The mythical monster returns in book two of the chupacabra trilogy, The Un-Familiar: A Tale of Cats and Gods. This time, he's brought along some friends—and a few enemies.

Casperian Books, 2016
Available in paperback at Amazon; e-book coming in September

When not busy writing or procrastinating, Lynne is an adjunct associate professor of biology. She lives in Charleston, SC with her husband, cat, and two dogs, where she is an avid—but not particularly accomplished—agility competitor. You can find all her books at her Amazon author page.

~ * ~

Lynne, it was lovely to get your outlook on agility and its benefits for our four-legged friends. I'm one of those who—until very recently—had an entirely wrong idea of what it actually was... But I've since become a convert. You say you're "not particularly accomplished" but, having seen the photos you post on Facebook, I'm your fan. And thank you also for the videos! I've already started working on the left and right one... Will post progress once we get it right (tee-hee).

I'd love to know if anyone else has any agility experiences or insights (or questions). Did you watch the videos? Does it look impossible? I know it did to me before we tried it... Let me tell you, it's way way easier than it looks.

And do yourself a favor: read Lynne's books. She not just writes exceptionally well in terms of craft and story construction—her latest, The Unfamiliar, had me reading all night and well into the next day until I finished it—but, especially in the chupacabra series, she does an excellent job of shining an incisive, although subtle (and non-preachy, which I love), spotlight on the issues of animal welfare. And she regularly donates proceeds from her books to rescue organizations. (You can follow her on Facebook for updates.)

Thanks again, Lynne! Always a pleasure to host you on the blog. And thanks to everyone who's visiting and commenting... I promise to post more often :)

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The Divide Between Animals & Humankind (or: Where Myth Meets Truth) — Guest Post by Ann Bennett

Ann Bennett is out to give science a good (and fun!) name at Science Ladybug. At So Much To Choose From, she blogs about writing, her thoughts & experiences, and so much more. Welcome, Ann!

Sometimes, late in the evening, I can hear my father’s voice. Playfully he spoke in rhymes and shared beloved stories. The ones I loved best were stories from his memory which had been passed down through generations.

This is one of my favorites.

When the world was young, all the animals got terribly mad at humans for killing them for food and never thanking them. So great was that anger, they decided to never speak to humans again. The Earth began to separate between them.
     The humans were so sorry. The animals weren’t. They were furious with the humans. But the dog remembered their friend. So before the divide was too great, bravely they leapt to stand with humans. It was a risk. They may not have made it. But they did and were so happy, although they could no longer speak the same language as the humans.
     Cats were also fond of humans. Seeing what the dogs had done, and being able to leap much better than the dog, they too made the jump. There was a greater loss of communication, but they were together.
     Plants also felt much sympathy for people, and created remedies for their afflictions. 
     In time, most animals forgave but did not forget to be cautious of people. They left people alone if the people left them alone. Some of the larger, powerful animals have no patience with humans. Only some of the smaller ones continue the fight today. When a spider bites for no reason, it still has the anger of its ancestors.

This story, deceptively simple, holds several truths:

 1. The dog is a loyal, dutiful companion for humans. 

Dogs historically were used for protection and hunting. The relationship between dogs and humans has been mutually beneficial. The scientific proof is both species have had brain loss from their reliance on one another. Dogs have had a twenty percent loss and humans have had a ten percent loss.

A terrier mix of mine who was named Muffin was a better mouser than any cat I have owned. All of my dogs are mousers; a few have been good at it. A yellow lab which I named Matilda would bring home rabbits she had caught. We all loved how she would pick a pear from a tree for a good snack. She loved it when you peeled a banana and gave it to her.

After taking her in, I had heard she had been traveling up and down the road in which I live looking for a home. She was in pretty good shape when I got her, so her hunting skills must've been quite good. What I have learned from rescuing dogs is that dumping dogs affects their mental health. Like humans, they suffer terribly from deprivation, abandonment and abuse.

I never thought Matilda would stop her constant whining to pledge her fealty to me. It was about five years before she was confident that she belonged. I had someone who was a pureblood fan who wanted her. I did not give her to them in that I never wanted Matilda to be abandoned again. Matilda was a noble dog who was a humble boss of my pack.

Matilda was a friend and companion to my dog Partner. Partner was incredibly afraid of hands, probably due to abuse before my father rescued her. Partner was odd and the other dogs knew it. But Partner had a good friend in Matilda. He would lick the back of my legs on our daily walks. Matilda also trained my Pitbull puppy with a broken leg to become the kind dog she was born to be.

I adopted a pregnant Chihuahua mix. This dog and her puppies have been boon companions to elderly and handicapped family members that live with me. Their antics bring much cheer, and no one sneaks up on us. Our house is in the country and not visible from the road. These dogs warn potential bad guys from the house.

 2. Dogs communicate with their body language and vocalizations. 

Dogs do have a limited understanding of our conversations. My dogs all understand the word walk. One time when I wanted to disguise my intent to take them for a walk in a few moments, I used the word walk-walk real fast. Their eyes got big and they were watching me; they'd heard their favorite word.

Dogs also are keen to recognize our emotional states. Part of training a dog is to project a confident energy. 

Dogs are so attuned to us, in fact, that they can predict low blood sugar levels in diabetics, and potential seizures. They're also trained as assistance dogs for the handicapped.

 3. Dogs have stronger communication skills and are more domesticated than cats. 

Dogs were domesticated around 10,000 years ago, and the cat about 7000 years ago. When man began to rely on agriculture, cats became useful in dealing with mice that fed on stored foods. The relationship with cats can be quite intense, but cats retain a much more wild nature than the dog.

 4. Many pharmaceuticals are plant-based. 

My great-grandmother had various cures based on wild and cultivated plants. My mother remembers her making a tea from roots as a child for health benefits. Many medications we take today originated from plants. Biochemists learned to synthesize these compounds in the lab and similar compounds that derive the same result.

 5. Wild animals avoid humans. 

During hunting season, we know what is being hunted. They show up on my property. It is interesting how the deer and turkey know that no hunting is occurring on my property. Animals can smell us and instinctively move away.

You read stories of an animal attacking a human. They only attack when they have been cornered, or when protecting their young. In North America, we have venomous species of snakes. But none of them will seek us out. It is important to note that there are aggressive animals and/or species. I have read the black mamba in Africa is aggressive. You always have to consider the temperament of the individual, the temperament of the species, and respect the fear response of a wild animal.

One huge tragedy in teaching children that snakes and other animals have value is the unwitting teaching children to not using caution. I had two four year old boys run to my dogs. Luckily, the Pitbull and terrier mix loved children. They stood there gently and allowed little hands to pet them. I did caution them (and Mom) that it is not good to pet strange dogs.

Sometimes what is considered aggression is misinterpreted. The Coach whip snake is very nosy. If it sees you, it will chase you to keep looking at you. The story is they will wrap their bodies around you and whip you to death. I have encountered these snakes in a peach orchard. Yes, they are nosy.

The adage of making a lot of noise to scare snakes is a lousy way to run off a snake. Their sense of hearing is terrible. The best way to avoid snakes is to look carefully for them. Wear appropriate snake-proof footwear when moving through heavy brush. I use a walking stick to check out heavy brush. When clearing heavy brush, I wait until after the first freeze of the year if possible. I don’t like to accidentally kill snakes with my machinery. A good snake is not dead.

But back to my dad’s story. Many folktales pass on wisdom and are relevant. In school, a visiting nurse related how some people in the country had placed spider webs on a wound. She talked about how unsanitary it was. When I proudly told the story at the dinner table, my dad said he remembered that done as a child. The spider web was used to stop bleeding. Spider webs are rich in vitamin K to stop bleeding and were used like gauze to help wounds heal.

Certainly modern medicine is much better than folk remedies. But these folk remedies and stories carry much wisdom and truth that should not be discounted.

 ~ * ~ 

Thank you so much, Ann, for sharing this story and its wisdom, passed on through your father to you—and now, through you, to us. I love how it underlines the truths hidden in myth and legend... Seems to me that's always the case, isn't it? Then again, in Mexico we're pretty big on folk 'medicine'; I have absolute faith in teas and infusions, and herbal remedies for pretty much anything. (Disclaimer: my great-grandmother was a curandera, a medicine woman. Yeah.) 

It's a hard line to walk, though. How to balance science with myth? When do we listen to Grandma (or Great-Grandma, as the case may be...)—and when to the doctor? Sometimes they might be saying the same thing with different vocabulary, but... what if they're not? 

What say you, readers? Do you have a herbal first-aid kit at home, or is your faith more at home with modern medicine? What folk tales do you remember being told as a child? Was your father a storyteller? 

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts and feedback!

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The Story of Little Leo (and How He Adopted Us) — Guest Post by Susan Brody @unpubYA

It all started when cancer took our beloved Murphy from us in February. He wasn't quite 11 years old.

Murphy & me

We'd had three months of warning that this was coming. In November, he had collapsed. I was the only one home. I scooped him up and drove like a lunatic to the vet. The vet did a sonogram and showed me the unmistakable outline of the large tumor on his spleen. He could probably save him this time, the vet told me, but it would only be a matter of weeks or months until the tumor ruptured and no one would be able to save him. Every day from here on in would be a gift.

The vet did save him that time, and then performed the same miracle once again in December. But in January Murphy began steadily losing weight and becoming weaker, despite his six daily medications. When he collapsed again on February 6th, we knew it was the end. Despite all the time we'd had to prepare, once he was gone no one in my family could imagine what we would do without him.

But we still had another dog at home that we had to take care of: 8-year-old Finney, our younger Goldendoodle, who from the age of 8 weeks had never known life without Murphy. And, unlike us, he didn't understand what had happened.

Finney (left) and Murphy

The month of February passed in a blur of tears. But at some point along the way, my 19-year-old daughter began campaigning for us to get another dog. It wasn't that she imagined we could ever replace Murphy; it was that she was very worried about Finney not having a companion. Gradually, my husband and I began to think about it, and we both came up with the same idea: that the best way to honor Murphy's generous spirit would be to save a life by adopting a shelter dog.

By the end of March we felt ready to begin our search. My daughter insisted that we look for a dog close to Finney's age, so that they would have roughly similar life expectancies. My husband and daughter both have pet allergies, so we tried to look for poodle mixes, but they were few and far between. And possibly the hardest part of all this would be that Finney has always been very selective about other dogs, and not in the least shy about making his preferences known.

We hit our fair share of bumps along this journey. Then, on April 12th, my husband emailed me at work: "Is this Cockapoo worth inquiring about?" It was a little guy, about 7 years old, who when rescued had been so neglected, his hair so hopelessly filthy and matted, that he had to be shaved down to the skin.

Leo, when he was rescued...

But he was described as friendly and affectionate, and we decided it was worth the hour-long trip to the shelter to see whether he and Finney could get along.

The two of them seemed perfectly comfortable together right from the start of our meet-and-greet, and the three of us humans all fell in love with the little guy, who had recently been given a name at the shelter but who clearly didn't recognize it. When we signed the adoption agreement that day, the woman at the shelter urged us to give him yet another name, and we came up with Leo.

At our meet-and-greet. (The white furry cutie in the back is Finney.)

We didn't bring Leo home that day because the following weekend we were going to take a long-planned trip to Washington, D.C., visiting our adult son and his girlfriend. We weren't staying at a pet-friendly hotel, and we couldn't leave little Leo in a kennel his first weekend with us, so we arranged to pick him up the following Sunday on our way back from Washington.

Everything went smoothly that day. Leo didn't display any recognizable emotion—not fear, not excitement, nothing. He sat straight up on my daughter's lap in the back seat the whole way home, looking out the window. He didn't make a sound during the hour-long drive, and it was impossible to tell what was going on in his mind.

When we got home and out of the car, my daughter and I immediately attached his leash and took him for a walk around the block. That seemed to go fine. Meanwhile, my husband left to go pick up Finney from the kennel where he had spent the weekend.

We finished our walk and brought Leo into the back yard, and that was when I realized how freaked out he was. He wouldn't go farther than a small corner of the yard, no matter how much we encouraged him to explore. And when I brought him inside the house and put him down on the floor to sniff around, he went right back out to the yard again. I finally put his leash back on him, which he seemed to find comforting, and walked him around the house a little before bringing him back outside.

Leo in the backyard, the day we brought him home.

And that was when my husband pulled up in the driveway with Finney in the car. I panicked. If Leo was so traumatized by his new surroundings without another dog there, what would happen when he encountered Finney, who is three times his size? I instinctively scooped Leo up in my arms and braced myself for Finney to come bursting into the yard and finding the little intruder. A few seconds later, Finney did burst in, but the strangest thing happened. He walked right past me and Leo as if we weren't there. No reaction whatsoever. Had all the dogs in my life suddenly turned into zombies?

I figured that the two of them were going to have to meet sooner or later, so I put Leo down on the ground. Finney continued to act as if Leo were invisible, and Leo didn't show a whole lot of interest in Finney, either. I couldn't believe how nonchalant they were both acting. In fact, Finney's arrival seemed to make Leo feel more comfortable; he willingly followed into the house and started checking the place out.

That night, and the next day, I kept waiting for the shit to hit the fan between them, but it never did. And it still hasn't. Finney has been a saint about this attention-grabbing little interloper, and Leo quickly started acting as if he'd known Finney his whole life.

Things weren't perfect. Leo pooped in the house twice. It's been very had to convince him that whatever food is in Finney's bowl is the same as what's in his own bowl, not some magical elixir. But, overall, it's been a smoother ride than we ever imagined it could be. When we took them for a hike the following weekend, Leo just followed Finney around like an old pro.

Leo's first hike

Leo's hair is growing back, and he's a healthy little boy who would be happy to sit on his new people's laps 24/7. I would have to say that, after 10 days of living together, we've all really adopted each other.

The family

And I feel sure that, somewhere, Murphy is watching and smiling.

 ~ * ~ 

Thank you so much, Susan! Yes, I agree; wherever Murphy is, he must be so happy that you opened your home, and your hearts, to little Leo. There's so many positive things about this experience... You did a fine, fine job at all sorts of levels. I'd love to get into the details of how this magic happened—Finney's reaction, for instance, is a lesson in itself—so here's the plan: I'd like to invite this little community to join me in assimilating the learning here, and in a few days, once people have had a chance to read, comment, ask questions, mull it all over, I'll put up a follow-up post on bringing rescue dogs home using your story as illustration. Sound like a good idea? Oh, I hope so!

Thanks again for sharing this here. Much love and light to your beautiful family!


Susan Brody blogs at TheArtofNotGettingPublished, tweets as @unpubYA, and can also be found on G+. 

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#AtoZChallenge Reflections on the #Dog Rescue Series

It’s been 12 days since the last A2Z post went up, and I’m still in full-out PTA2Z (aka post-traumatic A2Z disorder). Even the sporadic like on FB feels like lifting a bag of cement. Twelve days and the house is still a mess. The dogs still need baths. We still haven't returned to our regular treks-and-hikes schedule. Twelve days, and my brain still feels fried. Twelve freakin' days and I still haven't finished replying to comments!!!!

Seeing as this happens every single year, the question’s just begging to be asked: Was it worth it?

One hundred percent. The A2Z Challenge is always worth it—the increased audience, the exciting new blogs we find to follow, the new friendships that bloom and enrich our blogging lives. But, for me, this year, on this blog, the Challenge was particularly special to me. 

 ~ FIRST ~ 

This blog had fallen into abandon. Before the Theme Reveal post, I’d only published twice this year. Twice. And in 2015, I posted only six times. Even at my main blog I post pretty sporadically, but… six times? In one whole year? That hardly qualifies as blogging at all!

It’s never been about having a huge audience here; dogs are a personal thing for me, and when I started this blog back in 2013, I was quite content to keep it low-profile. It's my Life In Dogs, after all, and probably of not much interest to anyone beyond other dog lovers, and then only some of those (I, for instance, don't follow a lot of pet bloggers). 

But, small audience or large, the intention of this blog was always to chronicle life with my dogs, to keep track of their development, and of the learning they bring to me. How each of them has shaped my life. In order to do that, I need to post at least semi-regularly. I need to create the habit. The Challenge helped me not just get back into the groove of dog-writing, but also sparked all sorts of ideas for future posts—and connected me with some truly lovely blogger dog & rescue lovers who have succumbed to my arts of persuasion and will be guest-posting about their own stories here soon. This Sunday, for instance, we'll have Susan Brody of TheArtofNotGettingPublished (I love that title!) with the story of Leo, the rescue dog she adopted during the Challenge—and which serves as perfect illustration of what it's like to bring a rescue dog home. And next week Ann Bennett, of awesome blogs Science Ladybug and So Much to Choose From, is coming by to share a story her dad told her a long time ago, a sort of fable about the rift between animals and humans—and how to breach it.

 ~ SECOND ~ 

I never expected a theme as obscure as Dog Rescue to have the reach it did. Visits to the blog skyrocketed last month, way above visits in April 2014 (the last A2Z Challenge this blog participated in).

Over 6,000 views last month! April 2014, the other, earlier, spike to the left, had only 2,579 views.
(Which back then, seemed like OMG, so many!)

The blog's top five all-time most popular posts—since the beginning of time. All from this April's Challenge.
(Please note No. 5 is Michele Truhlik's guest post for W — congratulations, Michele!!! And THANK YOU!)

And not just visits. I mean, if you signed up for the Challenge, visits to your blog will skyrocket; your link is in the A2Z list, and at least a fifth of participating bloggers will click on it. But commenting… that’s another story. And I’m happy to report that those didn’t just reach all-time highs, but showed a huge increase in repeats. Over 70% of the people who commented once came back to comment again. And over 30% of them became regular visitors (3x a week or more) during April.

I’m… honored beyond what any words can express. Thank you.

 ~ THIRD ~ 

Urged by several of you lovely readers who said (and said again, and again) that this series on dog rescue should be a book, I worked up the courage to mention it, totally nonchalant and as if in passing, to my publisher. I even qualified it with a, “… but it’s probably not your cup of tea, right?” Well, guess what? It is his cup of tea.

Yay!

Therefore, coming soon to your favorite online retailer: The A-to-Z of Dog Rescue, book version.

Well, soon-ish. There's still a lot of work to be done before these posts are print-ready... Edits, expansion on topics, add-ons (thanks, Jeffrey, for the brilliant suggestion about adding rescue stories to illustrate... real-life examples will make a world of difference, I think... and maybe also help the book reach a larger audience).

So, again, thank you—this time for pushing the issue of the book. Never would have happened without you. And I look forward to sharing the progress with you… It’s something you helped to create :)

A huge Thank You from the whole Life In Dogs family.

How about you? Was your April successful? Any powerful lessons you want to share? Join the Reflections hop—and, if you already have, I’ll see you at your blog soon!

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Zealot — #AtoZChallenge

As defined by the wise folk of Merriam-Webster

Animal rescue, like anything that involves intense emotional involvement—religion, politics, vaccines—has its share of zealots. I am the sole possessor of Truth. Righteousness is mine. (You know the drill.)

Look, I have nothing against deep convictions, or the passion to defend them. But there’s a fine, and murky, line between that and bigotry.

You’d think rescuers, being so compassionate, would extend at least some of that compassion to fellow humans, even to the ones who aren’t quite there yet in terms of illumination, those whose understanding of the stuff that really matters (It’s About The Dog) is somewhat under-developed. 

Alas, no.

You want to make an enemy for life? Piss off a rescuer. 

Granted, we probably won’t get pissed at any of the ‘normal’ stuff, like you standing us up for a date, or posting an unflattering photo of us on Facebook; it’ll be over the fact that You bought a puppy WHERE??? Or because you moved and, instead of bringing your dog along, you rehomed him. Or maybe you happened to mention in passing that you’re looking for a purebred male to breed your pedigreed Afghan hound.

Whatever it is, chances are you won’t understand what you did wrong. But the consequences will be swift. And thus the fierce hand of god smote the heathen heretic in holy righteousness.

I am not free of sin, so this isn’t about throwing stones—or, rather, if any stones need to be thrown, this is me volunteering as target practice. The truth is that it’s this zealot attitude of rescuers that gives all of us, even large-scale organizations like PETA and Greenpeace, a bad name. 

If rescue is about improving the quality of life for animals, those of us involved in making it happen need to rethink our strategy. I don’t mean that we all need to become fake-smiley PR-ey lobbyists, but… Maybe just, you know, tone the bigotry down a notch. 

It is, after all, About The Dog.

(And, one of these days, I’ll start listening to my own advice.)

 ~ * ~ 

This has been an amazing month, and an amazing Challenge. You know, I almost didn't do this A-Z of Dog Rescue series. I spoke to a few (non-blogger) people about the theme, and none seemed thrilled. Up until the Theme Reveal in March, I was still debating... Should I, shouldn't I. In the end, it wasn't conviction that won out but a lack of any other alphabet-friendly ideas—and never have I been happier that the brainstorming failed. I knew the series would appeal to only a select group, but I never imagined the group would be so large, so diverse, so warm, so full of intelligent input and marvelous stories to share and enrich these posts with. It has been so rewarding to have so many repeat visitors; it feels like we've built a little community here, and I'm honored by that. I look forward to staying in touch, both here and at your own blogs—I've discovered so many fabulous ones this month!—throughout the year.

For a wonderful month. For all your encouragement (it's thanks to you that these posts will soon be collected into a book!). For the love you give, have given, and will give to your furry four-legged family members, if you have them. For the interest with which you've followed this series if you don't. For every comment, every share, every suggestion. For... well, everything.

Masha danki is 'thank you very much' in Papiamentu, the language of Curaçao.
And it's never been said as heartfelt as today, to you.

See you soon!

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Youth vs Age — #AtoZChallenge

What are the pros and cons of rescuing older vs. younger dogs? Is it really easier to rescue a puppy than a senior? 

Puppies can be easier. They tend to follow Mom’s example, and if Mom is approachable, chances are the puppies will be, too. Even if she isn’t, though, if the puppies are young enough (under 12 weeks), their natural curiosity might still work in your favor. A good rescuer can take advantage of it, and turn the whole rescue into a game. 

In a puppy, also, the natural affinity dogs have for humans might still be unchecked by negative experiences (which produce fear), so although they might be wary at first (they’ve never seen one of us), the domestication gene may be a good rescue ally.

But—you knew there was a but coming, didn’t you?—not all is peaches and cream with those cuddly balls of fur (i.e., they’re not always quite as willing as we’d like to be cuddled). Some of those fear-producing negative experiences seem to be passed on genetically; we fostered a dog once who turned out to be pregnant, probably had just become so a couple of days before we picked her up, and although her puppies were born at home and never knew a bad experience (trust me, we kept three of them and they’ve been as spoiled as any dog ever could be), they’re still fearful. 

If Mom isn’t around, and especially if the puppies are under 8 weeks, their instinct is to hide… Which makes them incredibly hard to find. (Remember the Botched post?) Also, they rarely come singly—there’s usually a litter—so you’re going to have to deal with several of them at once. Pick carefully which one you’ll get first: if that intrepid explorer gets spooked, cries out or fights you as you pick him/her up, chances are the rest of the litter will run and—yep, hide. 

And you also have the mom to contend with. Even the most docile of dogs will become a lioness when her babies are in (what they perceive as) danger. 

Adult dogs, on the other hand, may seem like a tougher job for rescue—but they don’t have to be. If they’ve survived on their own for however long, it means they’re street-smart, which may mean they’ll be warier of humans, but may also mean they have the necessary experience to make judgment calls: is this a good human, or a bad human? 

Don’t misunderstand me; these judgment calls don’t happen overnight, certainly not in a few minutes. What I mean is that these dogs will be willing to give you the chance—they’ll stay at a safe distance, and watch you from there—to show your true colors. But that is one chance, and one chance only. Squander it at your own, and the dog’s, peril.

Because of these street-smarts, adult dogs may also fall easier into a feeding routine than puppies, and, through it, into a relationship with you. Adult dog brains (just like adult human brains) are already wired to look for the pattern, to understand cause and effect, to analyze possible outcomes. If you are constant and consistent, if you follow the Trust Quadre, you have a good chance of establishing yourself in their good graces. 

The truth is that, like with everything else concerning rescuing, the issue of age cannot be taken as hard and fast. The only rule, when it comes to dog rescue, is that every dog is an individual. Every situation is unique. 

As they’re so fond of saying in investment disclaimers, past behavior is no indication of future results. No truer words…

 ~ * ~ 

My apologies on the late posting, guys... I'm about ready to drop, haha. The Z post will go up soon... well, soon-ish. Sometime before midnight :D And, once again, thank you so, so much for all the love you've showered this blog with all month. You've been an amazing crowd, and I'm beyond grateful for your readership. And to celebrate you—and the end of the Challenge—I leave you with this... (No, no Kleenex needed. Unless you're the type that cry when you laugh too hard ;) )

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: The X-Factor — #AtoZChallenge

So what is it, once all is said and done, that makes the difference between a successful rescue and a failed one? All month we’ve been talking about what to do and how to do it, but—really, does this all add up to a fail-safe recipe for success in dog rescuing?

Short answer: No.

(Wow. Shortest post I’ve written. Ever.)

No, of course it’s not that simple. There are too many variables in dog rescue. Too many unknowns. Too many X factors.

Beginning with the dog, of whose history you know nothing. You may assume and deduce and guess, but… no, not know. Same goes for his/her character. And these two things, their history and their character, are a huge factor. How skittish is s/he? How responsive to the lure of food? Plenty of strays and ferals prefer the safety of distance to the reward of even the tastiest morsel. 

The location also plays a role: is the dog in a trash dump, in an abandoned lot, out in the street close to busy intersections? Any of those will require a different rescue approach. The clothes or shoes you’re wearing, the equipment you may (or may not) have in your car, the time of day, the people you’re with (or without)… 

Regardless of the integrity of your intentions and your own preparation and experience, any number of things over which you have absolutely no control have the potential to affect the result.

Sometimes these variables play right into the plan. Sometimes everything just falls into place. Sometimes what seemed like a disaster ends up being a most unexpected windfall.

And sometimes… well.

Memes.com

It can be something as idiotic as your phone ringing just as the dog is coming closer. Or a curious stranger approaches and scares them off. Or workmen nearby start up their hydraulic drill. 

It can be something as unforeseeable as the dog having negative associations to the food you’re using as bait—or, on the other hand, maybe your scent is similar to someone’s that the dog loved once, and your fellow rescuers will watch on in amazement as this frightened, catch-me-if-you-can dog approaches you with ears down and tail wagging, and begs for a belly rub.

When stuff like this happens, you realize that your role in this whole thing is actually very, very small. Rescue truly is about being the right person at the right place at the right time. And that rightness… well, it just can’t be predicted. Rescuers differ from other animal lovers in that they’re willing to put in the effort—the chase, the weeks of building a feeding routine, the counter-intuitiveness of approaching a snarling dog to slip a leash around his/her neck—to find out. And willing, also, when the rightness simply isn’t there, to try again. And again. Over and over.

The difference between a successful rescue and a failed one is blind, cosmic luck. You can get the odds to lean in your favor if you’re prepared, if you have some experience, if you’re in the right mindset. But, bottom line, what will make you a successful rescuer is perseverance. Stubbornness. When everything fails, you don’t give up.

Because you have the absolute certainty that, sooner or later, that unknowable, unforeseeable, uncontrollable X factor will be in your favor. And you have the patience to wait for it.

 ~ * ~ 

Can you believe we're two posts away from the A-to-Z Challenge finish line? Kind of bittersweet, isn't it? On one hand I'm looking forward to the end of my sleep deprivation... But on the other, quite honestly, I'm going to miss this daily interaction with you all. It's been such an enriching month, at so many levels. So, please, let's stay in touch, yes?

P.S. for those of you who so generously insisted these posts should be turned into a book: I mentioned the idea to my publisher—and he's interested! Sight-unseen as yet—and maybe, once he reads all this, he'll feel differently—but if he does like the posts, there will still be a lot of work ahead to build a book worthy of calling itself such. Sooooo... if you have any suggestions, topics that we didn't touch on in the series, or ones you want more of (or don't want more of), please let me know. Your feedback has been instrumental in the success of this series, and will be even more so for the book.

In advance, a huge hug of gratitude :)

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A-Z of #Dog Rescue: Who Rescues Who? — #AtoZChallenge

BELLA

By Michele Truhlik at Angels Bark

There is something known as the “potato chip syndrome” to those of us in the greyhound communities. The famous Lay’s Potato Chips line, You can’t have just one, applies also to greyhounds: you simply can’t have just one! Many of us end up adopting a second greyhound, and then a third… and, for me, a fourth and a fifth.

Bella was my second. She joined me and Maggie. 

Bella’s story is heartbreaking, from her unfortunate beginnings and then her tragic end.* I first met her back when she was known as “Carol” (because that is the name of the woman who found her wandering around in the fields of her property), when she came into the foster program with the greyhound adoption group. And she was a mess! She had been out in the wild so long that she had developed a horrific case of mange. She literally had no fur! Her whole body was bald. Only her face had some sketchy patches of hair left. No one even knew what color she was going to be when her fur came back in. Yet, when I looked at her face, I saw an incredible beauty.  

Nothing much was known about this naked dog except that she was a former racing greyhound (as evidenced by the NGA** tattoos in her ears). But, from the condition she was in, everyone believed she had been relegated to the world of underground racing after her career was over. 

(Some greyhounds are lucky and get put with adoption groups when their racing days are over. In these parts, others are not so fortunate and they end up in the seedy world of “rabbit runners”—the name for people who take greyhounds for illegal gambling purposes. They call them rabbit runners because these horrible criminals use live rabbits as bait for running. The dogs receive very little food—if any—and very little water, absolutely no veterinary attention, and they’re usually abused).

For some reason, I just couldn’t stop thinking about this dog! I called Beth, the adoption coordinator, and inquired about her status. Yes, she was still there, she had been spayed, was fattening up and her fur was finally filling in. So I let Beth know that if it was okay, I would give that dog a home and she could come live with me and Maggie.  

The adoption was quickly finalized. I wasn’t crazy about the name Carol. I renamed her Bella because that Italian word for beautiful so suited her. Boy, was that ever a long settling-in process. Bella was a very frightened dog. So frightened that she was reluctant to even eat! I had to gently pull her up to her food every day and let her know that it was okay to indulge in that big bowl of kibble and mush in front of her.  It was so obvious that she had suffered abuse at the hands of those who had once held her captive. When I’d reach down to pet her, she’d cower. Every time I’d move, she’d shrink down, with head bowed and tail tucked. I knew instantly that she had probably been hit or kicked…and probably both.

I would lie on the floor next to her, stroking her gorgeous golden fur. I felt her heart beating nearly out of her chest she was so scared, eyes wide with panicked uncertainty, always on the ready to flee. I worked with her every day to let her know that she was safe with us, and nothing bad was ever going to happen to her again. It took a long time — nine months in fact — before that angel girl would even allow me to stroke her face without flinching. She always did continue to keep her head down when approaching people… and she always approached with caution. Then she’d go off to a quiet place in the house, away from the activity. So came her nickname, compliments of my dad: 

Lonesome Dove.

Over the years, Bella blossomed into one of the most trusting and sweet dogs. It was a process in which we both flourished. Bella was actually teaching me to trust as well. You see, I got Bella. I understood her fear and apprehension. Through her, I saw my own fears and insecurities. She was afraid of being hurt by people. So was I. She was afraid of being abandoned. So was I. She was afraid to love. So was I.

Bella taught me many things. She taught me that even though I’ve been hurt in the past, not everyone in the world is out to hurt me. When someone extends kindness toward me, I take one step closer to trust.

Bella grew to love and be loved. She grew to trust, and with that trust came security. Through her, I learned that when I trust and let people in, although a bit hesitant, I gain a sense of connectedness and security. Surprisingly, I feel safe. Bella taught me to have an open heart, knowing that even though the pain of the past never quite goes away, I can get past it to live a full and happy life.

This beautiful fawn greyhound enriched my life beyond measure. Like Bella, I still find myself going to my quiet place sometimes. But, in the silence, when I curl up to go to sleep, I have nothing to worry about. I know I am loved.

Although Bella was considered the rescued one, I have to argue that it was I who was rescued.

*I wish I could say that Bella and I had many years together. Sadly, she died on the table getting her teeth cleaned due to a reaction to the anesthesia. She was only 8. I was robbed of her physical presence, but the lessons she taught me and the love she shared with me live on forever. Until we meet again, my sweet girl…

** The National Greyhound Association (NGA) is the primary registry body for racing purebred dog Greyhound pedigrees in the United States.

~ * ~

Michele, thank you so much for sharing Bella's story—and yours—here today. It's an honor to host you both. Although I'm still in tears that you lost her so soon, I have no doubt at all that the time she spent with you was the happiest of her life. You say she enriched your life beyond measure—but you enriched hers just as much. And now both of you have enriched mine :)

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