For Better or For Worse -- Rescuers Tales

THE ANIMALS' SAVIOR

I looked at all the caged animals in the shelter...the cast-offs of human society.

I saw in their eyes love and hope, fear and dread, sadness and betrayal. And I was angry.

"God," I said, "this is terrible! Why don't you do something?"

God was silent for a moment, and then He spoke softly. "I have done something," He replied. "I created You."

Jim Willis

Paint

From MAGDRL’s NC Coordinator 4/11/01

Thank you everyone for your support who has been helping me cope with the tremendous amount of nonsense we have going on here. Some of you have asked about Luna, the abuse case I took in February. She is doing great! She is still missing quite a bit of hair but responding well to her demodex treatment and her skin is turning healthier and pink in some spots:) She is wonderful with other dogs and loves playing WWF with our adopted rescue Weimaraner and then chasing and running with Bombay. We have her in Obedience I Class and she is doing well except she is still scared of the men in class. She is meeting more and more men in the dog park and in public and we are doing some desensitization work which I think helps a lot. We love her and she is fine with cats and other dogs, appears to be okay with children. Very smart and very sticky...

Yesterday I walked into my vet's and the whole staff was upset. The abuse case there was not doing well, appears to have cardiomyopathy in addition to severe heartworms and every other thing wrong with her. Yet another black girl, she is 5.5 years old and has been living in a 4x8 kennel that was boarded and tarped up so she could not see out and she was on a chain INSIDE the kennel so she could not move. Of course she was covered with her feces and mucus and infections and weighed 80 pounds when seized with her nipples nearly touching the ground. Despite this, she is getting up on her hocks a little bit and starting to put on weight, is extremely sweet with men and women and is learning how to eat treats from our hands, graze on the grass and play with toys! Yesterday she was stressed and running back and forth in the kennel (she is
too sick to foster now) and actually standing on her back legs to see us(!) that she got to panting hard and that is when the vet got nervous. However, she calmed down while I was there (receiving two more black Danes--we now have 8 in case anybody is looking!) and I think she is feeling better so moving around which caused the excitement. I recognize she may not make it, but I believe one day at a time and she is doing fabulous from when she was turned over.

Yes, it is lucky I am not in jail because she was an abuse case that the shelter did not prosecute. I understand that b/c then she would have sat in the shelter until death or a year, whichever came first so they cut an agreement with owners if they would surrender they would not go to court. But, I had to stop myself from slapping someone who told me she met the owners and they really loved this dog but just didn't know any better! If they loved her so much how come they never spent more than $25 a year on her at the vets, they bred her so much and kept her chained in the dark and she is so afraid to eat that she won't unless you leave her sight?

Biene has another black female in Wilmington rivaling this one who she went and saw yesterday. And I know there will be another soon. So, I am trying to get the nerve to take some pictures up to the fairgrounds this weekend where all the black breeders are and show them how well their puppies are doing...and maybe also tell them about the other 8 ones we have in. I know it will do no good but I would really like to quit being so bitter!

********

[4/23/01] After a truly exhausting but very educational weekend with Sue Sternberg and Temperament testing and Evaluation of dogs, we ended our weekend on a very disappointing and painful note... I am sure I jinxed it but I saw the vet who handled our abuse case at the workshop and I told her how well Paint was doing, how friendly and active. Well, we could not turn our cell phones on and during the session somebody called us 12 times and we knew it could only be one thing... Paint.

The staff found her in a kennel of blood and said she could not get up and would not eat or take food at all. Immediately after the workshop we rushed over there, six hours later from the first report. Well, Paint saw us and got right up, walked to the front and right outside with us. She was covered in blood running from her nose and was breathing out of her mouth which we knew is not a good sign. But she came out and kissed us, ate a meal from us and clearly enjoyed being with us. The vet assured us she was not in pain but that she had an embulism in her lung (the spot we saw on the Xray) or some arteries around her heart had burst from the Heartworms and that she was bleeding out. The blood was clotting and he said that was a good sign she is trying to heal herself and the fact that we got such an opposite response from her 6 hours later was a sign that she was improving and recovering. However, we know it is probably going to happen again and that we need to make sure she is not in pain. Once she is in pain I will not let this continue but right now the lady who wanted to adopt her is with her chilling outside on a blanket and we are all trying to work through this together so please say some prayers and anybody who has had this happen before (end stages of Heartworms I guess?) we could sure use your support.
:)

********

[4/24/01] Thank you again for your kind words and support regarding Paint. She was alive and well this morning, albeit sick. We got her bloodwork back and she is already compromised and the edema (?) swelling indicates her circulation is slowing down. I did have the internal medicine specialist look at her and he did not do the Ultrasound b/c he was afraid it would be too stressful for her. His diagnosis based on symptoms, Xrays, bloodwork and physical problems (including severe malnutrition) is lymphoma, probably in the lungs. While she is no longer bleeding from the nose, he felt that her general overall health is so bad that she would not survive any work that we might attempt with her. Meanwhile, she is at risk of bleeding out again and/or a possible
heart attack.

We are going to send Paint to the bridge this afternoon once her would-have-been adopter says her final goodbye. While all of us know this is the best thing we can do for her b/c we cannot improve her quality of life anymore, we are thankful we did manage to keep her clean, comfortable and safe for three weeks. She did not die in the box she was chained up in and she knew not all humans were dirt before she left us. Sometimes I wonder if this would not have been so painful if she were a Dane with a bad temperament, or was ugly or had some scary behavior. But I really don't think it would be b/c none of them, even the ones that act bad, don't deserve this treatment.

I have asked them to take a picture of her outside before she goes; that is how I will remember her, sniffing and poking around, nudging me for treats and soaking up our attention and fighting to stay with us. I will also remember to let her former owner remember what he did and how it ended and hope that it haunts him for the rest of his life and just maybe will stop him from ever doing this again.

Laurie Schwartz
NC Coordinator/MAGDRL
Mid-Atlantic Great Dane Rescue League 

Dog People Hug

It`s the middle of summer on the Washington State coast, and it`s raining.

I`m sitting in the dreary parking lot of a gas station on the edge of a small town. In my hands is a tattered piece of paper on which there are a few doodles, some phone numbers, and the description of a car.

I watch the traffic going by on the highway, wondering how long this will take, as a small dog sits shivering in my lap. A few minutes later, a stranger`s car slowly comes toward our end of the parking lot.

"Is it them?", my mother asks excitedly. Bored, I look down at the paper and compare the writing to the car that is creeping toward us - "Yeah, it`s them".

The car comes to a stop near us. My mom pops out of our car on springs, smiling and waving, happily ignoring the downpour. The occupants of the other car, a man and a woman, cautiously exit their vehicle like swimmers in dark water.

Mom, still smiling and laughing, walks up to them and gives them each a hug. They are surprised and stiffen as anyone would when a complete stranger hugs them.

They head back to our car, mom animating her conversation with wild hand gestures, the couple following, now smiling slightly at mom`s kooky repartee. The cowering creature is whisked from the coat it was sharing with me. The couple`s faces light up like Christmas angels as they too ignore the rain and coo at the pathetic little ball of fur as it wags its tail and licks faces and hands indiscriminately.

Mother introduces me, but I elect to stay in the car. The couple`s attention is focused on the animal now happily cradled in their arms. Fifteen minutes later, the adoption papers are signed and we now have enough money left after paying the dog`s vet bill to fill the gas tank of mom`s twenty-four year old dirty red car.

The couple are bundling the dog into their car as if it were the greatest of treasures. Mom is saying good-bye and she gives them each another hug, this time they return it like old friends. Mom gets in the car and we watch as the exuberant people wave to us..... The small face that once graced my jacket now peers happily from the front passenger window, as we smile and wave back through windows smudged with nose prints.

We turn our car toward home and return to the daily grind, but the day seems a little brighter despite the rain. Two weeks later, we receive a picture of the little fuzzball, dressed in red, white and blue for the fourth of July.

Dog people. We are everywhere.

There is usually a difference between a person who has a dog and a dog person.

You can spot a dog person right away. They may be walking a dog, carrying on a wonderful conversation with it, or asking its opinion of something in a shop window.

Dog people can be rich or poor or in between.
We come in all races, all religions.
We don`t have our own political party.
No clubhouse.
No newsletter.
We have our dogs. It doesn`t matter what breed they are. They are our dogs.

We take endless delight in the fact that they defend us from the little birds on the power lines outside the window, or the squirrels in the park.

We know by their bark if something is really wrong. We can`t fall asleep at night without the sound of their snores echoing in our ears, and yes, we hug.

We are dog people........ and dog people hug.

Written by Maya Dillard , June, 2000

Sleepless Night

But today I placed a dog!

It was a small, scared, bundle of flesh and bones that was dropped off in a shelter by unfeeling people that didn't care what happened to it, but yet who were responsible for it even having existence in the first place.

I found it a home.

It now has contentment and an abundance of love. A warm place to sleep and plenty to eat. Two little boys have a warm fuzzy new friend who will give them unquestioning devotion and teach them about responsibility and love. A wife and mother has a new spirit to nurture and care for. A husband and a father has a companion to sit at his feet at the end of a hard day of work and help him relax and enjoy life. And a sense of security, that when he is gone all day at work, that there is a protector and a guardian in his home to keep watch over his family.

No, I'm not a rocket scientist. But today, I made a difference!

Cheryl Reed ivysplace@earthlink.net

Diane Morgan/Copyright 1999

Pieces of our heart ...

ACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've just come from putting down another sweet old Smooth. Used and abused all his life by his "family". Taught to be agressive. Then dumped on rescue. Bourbon wanted to be loved and cared for and he dearly loved me :-{{{ and I had to hold him as he went to the Bridge.

Bourbon didn't trust people and was sure you were up to no good. You couldn't correct him without him thinking that you were going to hurt him and of course he would "protect" himself. They said 9.5 yrs, but he looked 12 yrs. Eyesight failing, he didn't know if you were the good guy or not. He asumed the worst, that was all he'd known.

He left today in my arms, with my dear friend and kind heart, Lorraine doing the injection. I'm so fortunate to have such a wonderful person, that cares so much to be there for them. But I'm seeing too many like this, and a piece of my heart leaves with each one.

Sorry....I'm sitting here, just back and still crying my eyes out for what Bourbon missed in life. And for what I was just too late to fix. Sleep peacefully Bourbon...

by Pam Bishop
copyright 2000
dobra@pe.net
Fox Terrier Network, Inc .

How Do We Keep Doing Rescue?

********

This camel has had a hard few days. This morning added one more straw.

A "person" who we took our second rescue dog from all those months ago -- that person
contacted me to take in her current Siberian. She called back because yet again she's got a dog who is untrained, unsocialized, and still intact without vaccinations. When could she drop him off?

And did I have any puppies available?

RIP Mingo

Mingo was the 9 yo Malamute/Samoyed whose owner was abruptly bedridden and dying of cancer when he was turned into rescue by the overwhelmed spouse (would not have been my decision, but she's the one dealing with her husband's death as best she could). Here Mingo went into wailing Irish-wake grief, before finally seeming to accept things.

He was fat, so we took the weight off him, getting him from 122# down to 80#. He was never going to be adopted because he disliked women and me in particular, had tried to bite me on more than one occasion but loved Ken & Ken loved him back. He had no social skills with other dogs, kept misreading their signals and getting beat up, and he wanted only a quiet place to sleep.

But 2 people commented lately on how thin he was. And I keep track of who eats what food and he didn't eat for three days. Was active, bright-eyed, but not eating. He was down to 61#. With x-rays, doctor diagnosed cancer. Recommended putting him down asap. I couldn't do it. Not right then. The world is so full of death & despair right now I thought I'd put it off for a day, maybe two, just time for me to come to grips with letting yet another dog go over the bridge.

Mingo was unconscious this morning. Barely breathing by the time I got him to the vets. It didn't take much of a push to get him over the bridge. He was ready to go.

********

Miss Belle

Miss Belle's teeth are pretty much ground down -- not inflamed, not infected, just old and worn out right to the gums. I knew this, have been adding warm water to her food, but without thinking I have been giving everyone their morning biscuit.

This morning as always, she sniffed the milk bone... looked at me... and delicately took it out of my hand. By the time I got to the end of the row, there was a ruckus back at Belle's kennel. Cody (male Malamute) on one side and Jasper (male Siberian) on the other side of Belle were both hollering at her. She stood in the middle of her run with her head down and GLARED at them both, still holding the biscuit. When they didn't shut up she raised her lips. Never growled. Just showed them her worn out teeth -- all of them. The boys backed off and barked at her some more. She wagged her tail at me and together we discovered all 6 of her milk bones (3 evening and 3 morning biscuits) in her dog house. She offered ME the bone very carefully and wagged her tail.

I then realized that Belle may not have had much experience with milk bones. But she was pretty sure whatever it was belonged to HER, and not THEM.

Sidney Helen Sachs
Director, Sleddog Rescue
sleddog@gte.net
A Shelter for Alaskan Malamutes & Siberian Huskies in East Tennessee Breed Information

The 'tears' of Rescue

Dear Sebastian,
You came to me on December 22, 1998, just three days before Christmas. Your step grandmom had adopted a new sibling from me, Celeste, whom she loved dearly. But you unfortunately just hated Celeste. You had never asked to live with your step grandmom, your dad had left for the Rainbow Bridge and your step grandmother took you in. While she provided you with a loving home I'm not sure you were ever truly content, and you certainly became very very agitated with the addition of a sibling. I told your step grandmom that this was not the usual procedure, that I did not place a cat and take a cat in return, but I could tell from her voice, and from yours, it
was the right thing to do. So I did.

Down you came to the Virginia Rescue Center. And, as is custom, off we went to the vet to get you checked out. So extremely agitated were you, throwing yourself against the sides of the carrier, yowling up a storm beyond anything any of us had ever heard, that the vet suggested something I never told you, but I refused to listen to her. They had to physically restrain you and heavily sedate you in order to be able to even get close.

Turned out your mouth was a shambles! No wonder you were so crabby, most of your teeth were rotten or falling out. A dental certainly was in order. And so we
did, removing most of your teeth. Surely this would make you happier, and to some extent, it did. You came back to the Center to settle in and build a reputation as the "Halloween Hisser" - adopter after adopter that came through the house was 'wowed' by your attitude, something really beyond belief.

Then along came a family in Chicago. Everyone involved felt certain you would be the
appropriate fit, except perhaps you. Off you went, complaining loudly, to your new home, and back you came, just a few days later, having protested loudly enough to alert the neighbors. We were all sad, you were stressed, and back you settled into your VA routine, determined not to go anywhere with anyone.

Determined not to be a loving cat, yet looking at me with those adoring eyes. Determined not to be affectionate, yet rubbing against my legs every time I stood up. Determined not to purr, yet giving small sounds when I kissed your head. Determined not to belong to anyone, yet laying contentedly on the pillow every night. And I, determined not to fall head over heels, did. I thought you would have to stay. I knew you wanted to stay. I kissed your soft head, dodged your clawless paws, ignored your constant crabby voice, and loved you regardless. I gazed into your big eyes, avoided your territorial stances, shared the bad and the ugly with adopters, and loved
you more.

Then along came two angels. They visited you many times. They heard your rude words. They saw your striking paws and your toothless hiss. They visited again. They talked we talked you hissed. They played they petted you considered it. They cajoled you swatted they loved you more.

Tonight you have gone with them to your new home. While you don't believe it now, as evidenced by your anger inside the carrier, they are taking you to start a wonderful new life. They are earth angels, and you will live a blessed life with them and their cats, whether you believe it or not. They will love your crabbiness, your angry voice, your hissy fits, and your big blue eyes. They will kiss your head, avoid your swats, talk soothingly over your yowls, and love you forever. They will give you warmth, comfort, security, safety, and most importantly, unconditional love.

Many cats have come and gone. Each one is special, and a certain sadness comes with the wonderful feeling of sending each off to their new home. But for you, Sebastian, for you who was crabbier beyond belief, I sit here and weep, for I love you dearly and with your departure has gone a piece of my heart. Be blessed, Sebastian, live long and happy, and learn to love Kristin and Josh who are so special and dear to have seen through your exterior to the frightened insecure boy underneath. I will love you forever.

Siri Wine
Siamese Cat Rescue Center
Nationwide Rescue & Placement of Siamese Cats
Siamese Rescue.
VAsrc@siameserescue.org

Rescue Story

This story begins at the end of May 1997. It was the Friday before Memorial Day and I had traveled to Socorro, NM for a Public Health TB meeting. The meeting was being held about 2 miles out of town at the New Mexico State Firefighters Academy. People from all over the state were attending the meeting and I drove up with several other state employees including the District Medical Officer, one of my bosses.

When we arrived I noticed a small red dog - that appeared to be dead lying under a pick-up truck. A closer inspection revealed that the dog was alive but appeared to be very ill and close to death from starvation. I inquired inside and was told that the dog had come into their enclosure the night before and collapsed under the truck. They had put water and food under the truck - but were afraid to touch the dog because it was covered with ticks and appeared to be quite ill.

I went out on my break and tried to take a closer look but the dog would not move and just lay there very quietly. At lunch I announced to my supervisor that we had to go to the grocery store - I needed tick spray and dog food. I sprayed the dog as soon as we returned from lunch and placed some dog food under the truck.. I then talked to the people inside - apparently they had called animal control but no one had showed up. I conned a cardboard box out of them and talked to my supervisor who was none to keen about having me bringing this very ill dog home in a state vehicle but finally everyone agreed that if the dog was in the box to keep the ticks out of the vehicle - then it would be OK.

Socorro (means help or succor in Spanish) as I named her appeared to be a whippet or greyhound cross and was a red brindle. She was nothing but a skeleton covered with skin - which hung on her like a baggy suit of clothes. It took me almost three hours to remove all the ticks.

There were hundreds of them. They had left her so anemic that her gums were totally white. Her hematocrit was about 12 when it should have been 40. She was about 18 inches at the shoulder and weighed 17 pounds. She had green discharge from her eyes and nose. Initially I thought she might have distemper but this was not the case. She was also about 5 months old as close as we could estimate because she had not lost her puppy canine teeth.

It took weeks of good food - rest and TLC before she began to be able to do anything more than walk around at a very slow pace. She was old long before she was young. Gradually she began to fill out and soon she began to play and that awful look of complete sadness and despair in her eyes gave way to one of joy and fun. She began to develop muscle and began to trot instead of just walk - eventually she began to run and it was obvious that she was bred to run and play and play. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous. She quickly learned basic obedience and was a wonderful retriever. She loved playing with Becky the young elkie and Daisy another rescue. She tolerated cats and my grumpy old elkies always showing them great deference. When they wandered off at night and got lost in the field she learned to find them when I asked her.

And slowly she gave her soul to me. She went to workwith me after hours. She went everywhere that she could when the weather was suitable. Her tail never stopped and neither did her tongue. She was totally safe with children or adults but when she barked which was rare you knew something was up. I started running again because of her - and she was a magnificent running partner. She kept the peace among my dogs. She did it with a combination of play, shouldering dogs out of the way - but never with viciousness or aggression. She simply wanted everyone to get along.

She became an extension of me and so different in ways from my beloved elkies but I grew to love that red desert dog completely and to trust her totally.

She is gone. It is so hard to write because dogs are not supposed to die of cancer at 2 1/2. For the past few months she had a bit of a pot belly that gradually increased in size but because she played with zest, ate with zest and ran - It never dawned on me that something was terribly wrong. Sunday night she quit eating and I thought she had bloated. Instead she was found to have a mass in her abdomen. Monday she had surgery and her abdomen was found to be full of cancer - adenocarcinoma. How she had lived so vibrantly - I will never know.

I elected not to let her wake up. She had given me everything including her soul and I had to let her go without asking her to stay and suffer more for my sake.

Why am I telling this story - for several reasons. We simply do not know how some rescues will come out. Socorro became my best friend - do not get me wrong I love my elkies but they are different. Socorro gave me her very soul. She lived life to the fullest when she recovered. How she got to the Firefighters Academy - and why - I will never know. I believe she was a gift. How a dog so young could have such a horrid disease I will never know. Perhaps it started when she was so severely immune compromised. I feel great guilt for not realizing that a pot belly on a greyhound type dog is not normal but her behavior never showed any signs of illness until the end.

She proved to me that rescue is worth every dime, dollar spent and that the returns are always greater than what we put in. She has also taught me that the most unlikely candidate can with love and care and food become a magnificent friend. Go my friend and run free.

Majie and Moosies and the Red Spirit Dog
mpowey@ZIANET.COM

Abuse: Not Always What it Seems

"I thought I might share a personal story with some of you who are in the rescue biz, as I have been for 15+ years. It's a harsh reminder that abuse cases are not always as they appear. Those of us who've been doing rescue for many years have seen and heard more than our share of horrible stories. In fact, most of us like animals WAY more than people. Some of us have become numb to people, and we often think with self-righteous blinders on, unable to see past the paradigm and into the whole picture. I was a victim of this yesterday. And I imagine I've been guilty of doing the same to others. Forgive me. I think it's an important reminder.

One of my best friends is married to a man who has had several massive strokes. He is easily confused and has probably forgotten more stuff than you and I know put together. 2 years ago I gave them Xena, one of our English Pointer puppies. Since that time, Ed's gotten worse and worse and Joan (the wife) brings in very little money. The bank is about to foreclose on their house, so it's up for sale and they're moving back to their condo which didn't sell after 3 years being empty and on the market. Anyway, we agreed to take Xena back, which we did Friday night. We're not breeders. This was a first and last litter for our dogs who have since been altered. We brought Xena into this world, so we're always responsible for her and all the other pups. That was the rule.

Xena's very thin and skittish, afraid of her own shadow, but was incredibly loved by them. Their other dog Natasha, a rescue placed by us, is actually a little over weight. Both dogs are/were well fed and spoiled beyond belief. Xena has a condition (allergy to staph), which requires daily meds and she basically looks like crap. She has rings of hair missing around her eyes from an old bout of puppy mange that never completely cleared up. English pointers are thin dogs, and although she's FAR from neglected, she "looks" a tad neglected. Thus begins our nightmare.

Pointers can be a pain! They say having one English pointer is like having 3 dogs. After having her for 2 days, Xena got away from me yesterday morning. It's hard to let 4 big dogs (a dobie too) out at once and she scooted behind me and took off. I ran IN THE RAIN BAREFOOT (35 degrees out) several blocks after her, but couldn't find her. My hubby hopped in the car while I cleaned myself up, already late for work.

Meanwhile, Ed (the dazed and confused previous owner) got a call from a guy who picked up Xena (she still had her old tags on) not even 15 minutes after she got away. Ed didn't know she was even gone from our home. Anyway, the guy gave Ed his phone #. Ed didn't write it down and forgot it. He has dementia. He called his wife Joan at work who then called me as I'm calling in late to work. I rushed to Ed's house to *69 the phone to get the number of the last call that came in to contact the guy who had Xena. But that would've been too easy. Joan had called the house after the guy with Xena called, so I got her work # when I did *69. So, we only knew that some guy named Bob had Xena.

I rummaged thru their house looking for directions on how to get the caller ID working on their cordless phone. No luck. I went to work 2 1/2 hours late and just waited. We hoped the guy would call back. At 4pm I found out that some lady called Ed and said, "I've got your dog Xena in my lap. She's malnourished and a$$holes like you don't deserve to have dogs." Phone slams down. Poor Ed is in tears. He's forgotten his entire life, but still knows his love for Xena. I'm in tears. I feel like a big frickin jerk. It's all my fault. Meanwhile, I'd called the surrounding police stations and local shelters in case they brought the dog in. I reported the harassing call to the police who basically didn't give a rat's patootie.

Joan got home from work, found the manual on the caller ID and retrieved the guy's number. The woman who called Ed an a$$hole had a "private" number so we couldn't get a hold of her. When we finally got a hold of "Bob" and told him the whole situation, he admitted he gave the dog to a woman friend when he didn't hear back from Ed. She thanked him profusely for picking up Xena. And I also called and thanked him profusely! He assumed the owners didn't want the dog. She appeared to be abused (very shy) and malnourished. They brought her to a shelter about 30 miles south of us even though there's a shelter really close - a shelter that I work closely with who was also searching for Xena.

Sooooooooo, we contacted the far away shelter and explained the ENTIRE story to the lady (who bitched that she should've had tags on). HAH!! Turns out the people who brought in Xena removed ALL 4 tags and gave the shelter NO information on the owners. They just dropped her off as a stray, not wanting her to find her way back home………..being so abused and all. The shelter admitted they already knew they'd euthanize her because she was so skittish and shy if no one claimed her.

When we found out what these people had done, we called back to confront them. He denied taking off her tags. His wife got on the phone and was really mean to Joan, saying she was lucky to get the dog back at all. She wouldn't tell us her "friend's" name who had called Ed (the poor senile man) an a$$hole. She did admit she had Xena's name tag, but there were no other tags on the collar. Xena was gone 15 minutes. Do you know how hard it is to unhook those hooks to get the tags off? And they were all on the same hook. When asked why she removed Xena's name tag, she gave the excuse that she needed it in case the shelter had someone call in looking for Xena. Truth is, she assumed the dog was mistreated and unloved and thought it best the owners couldn't be identified. Needless to say, I gave the man an earful as he continued to deny any wrongdoing. All he could say was he was just trying to do a nice thing........ I started the conversation off with a "thank you", but it quickly soured as he turned into a judgemental, self-righteous jerk. And, unfortunately I want to retaliate and file a complaint. The shelter advised us to prosecute. But he lives very close and could make my life miserable with all the animals we have, so we choose to quit while we're ahead.

Last year, the trainer who had our male pointer Buckshot lost him in a corn field 40 miles from our home. Within 2 days we had distributed and posted 2,000 flyers with pictures. We'd rented a helicopter and searched for him. My husband searched from midnight to 8am for 7 days. I searched during the days. We faxed the flyer to EVERY vet and shelter within 50 miles of where he was lost. Buck also is shy of strangers and we knew he wouldn't come to anyone. One full week later he was found exhausted and bone thin in a ditch. He looked like a skeleton, too weak to stand. He was recognized by one of the 2,000 posters plastered in the 2 mile radius where he was lost. And he was brought home. All of our dogs live in our laps and on our beds.

Many abuse/neglect cases are cut and dried. No doubt!! But, sometimes we see a pathetic animal and ASSUME it's the fault of a human. What we often forget is to consider possible underlying conditions. The health of the animal, the length of time it may have been lost. The lengths people may have gone to find their pet and or keep an otherwise sickly animal as healthy as possible. And there are many other underlying factors. We DON'T have all the answers. We AREN'T always right. Sometimes exotic animals are taken from the homes of people who truly love them and properly care for them because of an ordinance or lack of a license. And these animals are placed into sanctuaries or shelters or euthanized. I have licenses and permits out the wazzoo. It doesn't make me a good animal caretaker. I happen to be a good one, but not because of the licenses I have, but because of the person I am.

I think we, as rescue people and organizations, need to be a little less critical of people and open to the idea that while our hearts may be in the right place, our heads are sometimes up our butts.

PS ... Xena's 17 hour stay at the humane society was long enough to bring home kennel cough which was rapidly transmitted to all four of our dogs and our fennec fox. Everyone's healthy now, but WOW, what a nightmare."

Warmly, Kim and Xena Warrior Puppy
PALOSZOO@aol.com
Animals for Awareness

Good Ending For Big Dog

I received a post recently from a couple that had found a large dog in the woods, that they named George. They were trying to find a home for him. I just received this and thought we'd all enjoy a "good ending"..

Submitted by Pam Bishop
copyright 2000
dobra@pe.net
Fox Terrier Network, Inc

**********

About a week or so ago I e-dropped a message across the e-waves about a great dog, we called George:

Some hiker's dropped him off at our place, he had a pretty bad wound on his leg. After making a # of calls we realized that unless we got his injury treated and kept him away from animal control, he would be destroyed. However there was no one who could help us, as stray dogs are a huge problem in the northwest U.S. We took George to the vet at our own expense (and it was very expensive, but he's worth it!) and had his leg repaired, the vet said it looked like he had been hit by a car, but would have a full recovery and be good as new. His leg requires a daily soaking and bandage change in addition to antibiotics 2x a day for the next 10 days. We would love to have George as part of our family, unfortunately, due to our work and living situation, we cannot keep George, in fact we need to find him some kind of alternative place to stay and get
the care he needs, even if it's only temporary until he can be adopted into a loving home.

Well, after caring for George for over a week, putting up posters, e-mailing & calling everyone we could think of, we had finally found some excellent candidates to adopt him. We planned a home visit with them over the weekend. The next night we got a call from the aunt of some young boys who had lost there dog during a visit to our area from the Ft. Bragg area. A friend of hers had heard one of our radio announcements about the dog. All the details fit George to a T, including the circumstances of his disappearance. We drove him to the aunt's home and as we approached he became more and more excited. When we pulled into the drive the aunt recognized him immediately! One Ton (as we learned was his name) was home! One of the
boys, upon learning of One Ton's return, started the 200 mile trip north to be reunited with his beloved pet.

We're so glad to be able to share this success story with all of you. Thank you for responding to our e-mail and keep up all the good work youdo! On a more somber note. One-Ton fell out of the back of a pick-up truck and had no identification on him. Had he not wandered into our lives he could have easily been put down by animal control, perished in the wild, or been killed on the highway. If there is anyway you can help educate people as to the importance of pet ID and the danger of letting dogs ride in the back of pick ups, please do. We know we will!

Microchipping WORKS!

Got a call from my mother. Call this number. It's the AKC Recovery No. Spoke to a nice lady named Angela. She gave me a phone number and told me a dog named Akyla with me listed as a secondary contact was found in Columbus, GA. She had tried the primary contact and their two numbers and then I'm a secondary contact and tried MY primary phone number, got a machine, called my second number and got my mother.

I called the number left with Angela and spoke to a very nice lady named Melissa who says she has this very nice, very well-taken care of dog with lots of ID that places her in Atlanta, NOT Columbus. I say I'll drive the 6 hours to get the dog as needed. No need, she figures someone is looking for the dog, but will contact me as needed.

I left an urgent message on owner's voice mail that bounces to his pager. He calls back from NANTUCKET because he's on vacation and his brother-in-law in Columbus is watching the dog. Owner calls people with dog and got a machine. I have already reverse looked up their phone number on the internet and have a street address. Owner gives it to brother-in-law on his cell phone and brother-in-law is in the truck pulling into the drive-way and finders are outside with Akyla and their portable phone battery has died so they didn't hear it ring. Dog is fine.

GET YOUR DOGS MICROCHIPPED and put phone numbers on collars! Lots of phone numbers! Think about how many places this recovery could havebroken down...

Sidney Helen Sachs
Director, Sleddog Rescue
sleddog@gte.net
A Shelter for Alaskan Malamutes & Siberian Huskies in East Tennessee.

It is with shaking hands and tears in my eyes that I am letting everyone know that my missing Rescue Pei, Tinker was found today. A good samaritian found Tinker about 2 miles from her home. The story takes an even better turn...

Laura Rice saw a post on my message board that is on my website. I don't check this message board very often and if Laura hadn't mentioned it, it would have been days before I would have seen it. However, Laura knew that Tinker was missing and thought that this post might be about her.

I checked the post and immediately sent the lady a picture of Tinker along with the information about her Microchip. The lady took Tinker to her vet immediately, found the chip and Tinker is going home!!!!!

To make the story even better....Laura and I are meeting tonight because she is adopting one of my Rescue Pei's, MeeShu.

Miracles do happen.

Wendy Cook
CSP Rescue of Nashville
North American Shar Pei Rescue, Inc. (NASPR)

Why we hate irresponsible breeders

Most Rescuers have nothing against responsible breeders -- those who better the health and temperment of the breed they love. This is done by only using dogs who have been subjected to health testing (eyes, heart, hips are just a few). It's the people that breed without thought of the lives they are responsible for that drive us insane. All life is precious ...

The following is from an email I received:
"...Obviously there is nothing that you can do about some breeders. Between you and I, the breeder is _____. Apparently she just sells her dogs without any kind of spay/neuter agreement. I know of one of her dogs that was sold on full registration. He's sired at least 3 litters that I know of. They didn't have to use her kennel name, so they named him something like, "S___." He died last summer of some heart ailment. One of his pups is quite a prolific breeder here in NJ. He has sired quite a few litters, but I don't know the exact #. This dog's name is "H____." A friend of mine owns one of his pups. She is so tiny, you would barely know that she is a Great Dane.

In fact, "H____" was sold to a man that owns a place that I go to. I saw this dog the other day. He is so skinny that you can see his spine, his ribs and his hips. I remarked on this to the man, and he made a stupid comment: "We like him that way. It makes him faster." What the hell he was talking about, I have no idea.

I just have to wonder how many pups came from this one dog that went out without a limited registration? The count is probably quite high.

I know one litter from "S___" that I got called to help. This man had two Harl bitches. One bred to "S___," one bred to "H____." The bitch died during whelping. He said that a puppy was stuck, so he pulled it out and her insides came out too! He just threw her in the dumpster like so much garbage. A friend of a friend called to ask if I would pick these pups up, because he couldn't get them to eat. Apparently they had barely eaten since they had been born 3 days
earlier.

It was an awful part of town, so my husband went with me. It was disgusting! This "person" had a 2 liter bottle of coke in a box with 3 puppies on the back porch. The water was cold! He gave me some weaning formula that he had, and some filthy bottles, and was glad to be rid of them.

One pup died in the car, and the other two died shortly after. I'm sure that they had been too cold and too hungry for too long. Poor things never had a chance. Lucky me, I get to bury these poor pups. And my kids had to see this. It broke their hearts.

I'm sorry to go on and on, but that's just one example of what can come from sending a dog out with full registration, then washing your hands of it. You deal with stupidity every day, and I don't know how you do it. You must have some horrible stories too. And a lot of patience!

Thanks for listening,"

Anonymous

Dealing with owners [turning dogs in]

Coping with the irresponsible attitude of so many of the owners turning dogs into Rescue can be one of the most difficult part of Rescue. Here are a few points of view ...

We have an "intake" form that we ask all owners to fill out -- many of them do. It includes questions about the dog (health history, habits, commands he or she
understands, etc.) plus a release that they must sign. We took many of the questions from animal shelter intake forms, and some from experience (we'd be glad to share the form if anyone would like it -- and we're always interested in getting questions from other groups' forms, too).

Sometimes it is very hard to be civil to relinquishers, I know. But through reading books, attending seminars, and talking with shelter workers, I have come to realize that many of the reasons owners use to explain why they are giving up their dogs are not necessarily the real reasons. Guilt, embarrassment, and ignorance can get in the way of telling what really happened. The bottom line is that the dog has become inconvenient, usually because he or she was acquired with unrealistic expectations and now reality has hit.

I also try to remember that occasionally people give up their animals because they are trying to get them out of an abusive situation in which they themselves are caught -- or for some other very personal reason -- and I try to be as compassionate as possible. Even though giving everyone the benefit of the doubt doesn't sound very realistic, I think that the sweeter you are to some people, the more information you can get out of them. If I can muster the willpower, I pretend to commiserate about their problems with the dog in an attempt to get them to open up. A lot of time, though, I just want them to leave the dog with me and go away...

We're doing our best to prevent the dogs we adopt out from being relinquished again, too. Something interesting that I heard the other day was that lots of first-time, adult pet owners have unrealistic expectations of what it is like to have a dog in the family because their last experience was as a child. When you're a kid, pets are magical -- especially when some adult is ultimately responsible for feeding, walking, cleaning up after, grooming, vet visits, training, and dealing with problems (like replacing chewed or piddled-on property). When someone says to me, "I had a collie when I was a kid, and it was such a great dog. I want my kids to grow up with a collie, too," it makes me a little cautious. Only if the adults really want a dog and understand how much work they will have to do is the adoption likely to succeed.

Sometimes I say, "You know...your house will never again be as clean as it is right now..." or I go into a long explanation of proper grooming tools and techniques, just to see if they have thought about what it means to have a long-haired dog running around the yard with the kids and coming in and out several times a day.

Also, I just added a new question to my interview: "What color is your carpeting?" People with wall-to-wall white carpet may not remain enthused with their new dog after the first rainstorm.

Just food for thought. Sorry I got so long-winded...this is one of my favorite subjects.

--Gretchen Waldo d_waldo@nettally.com
Tallahassee Collie Rescue, Inc. .
A Member of Collie Rescue of the Southeast

I tend to respond with barbed comments and sarcasm. I know its bad but I can't help myself.

We had an owner turn in of a wonderful 2 year old [dog] who the family had since he was a puppy. The reason was that he was snapping at the kids. There were five kids, all with ADD and the parents told us that they knew it wasn't the dog's fault, but they were worried about the children being bitten.

Sound reasonable until we questioned further. All of the kids were adopted. Hmmmmm. Unrelated kids, all supposedly with "ADD".....Hmmmmm.... Then, of course, the parents told us that, besides, they really didn't have the time to walk the dog anymore. And that, finally, they had just bought a puppy.

I told them to wait a minute and went inside and gave them the number for that breed's rescue. They were puzzled until I explained that, when their monster children caused them to turn the pup over to adoption, they should keep the number handy. After all, 5 unrelated children all with the same nebulous aberration of ADD, couldn't possibly be the result of bad parenting, could it? Perhaps, I suggested, if they would MAKE time for the dog and start by honoring their commitment to the dog, they might gradually work their way up and begin to honor their commitments to the children. Then, perhaps, with the proper attention, the "ADD" might even....disappear, perhaps?

Anonymous