Are you as afraid as I am to turn on the news? I feel obligated, but at the same time a heart can only take so much. This past weekend I finally heard some GREAT news. I was privileged to attend OPH’s seminar for volunteers. I learned even more about this fabulous organization I’m a part of and left feeling motivated to do more.
The highlight for me was a presentation from two women from one of the shelters that OPH partners with in south western Virginia. I went to school in southside Virginia a million years ago, so I remember that part of the country as rural, blue-collar (when there are jobs) with field after field of tobacco. I worked at a pub in Danville where I served mill workers who called me “Yankee Girl” and never missed an opportunity to remind me that Danville was the last confederate capital of the south!
Rachel and Ashley traveled north this past weekend to share with OPH the impact our organization has had on their shelter in Scott County, VA. I couldn’t hold back tears as I listened to the statistics they shared. I think it was the best news I’ve heard all summer, actually all year, and it renewed my desire to help more dogs and my admiration for the people who work so hard to save them.
Just picked up Whoopi and Ginger from their vacation. They are tired, fat, and happy – the way everyone should be when returning from vacation.
While we were gone they stayed with OPH superstar foster Juanita who spoiled them rotten. They had free run with her pack in Juanita’s big, shady, fenced yard; were allowed ON THE BED for naps; and even had a swimming pool to cool off in.
Ginger’s chocolate coat is shiny and sleek, with the extra pound or two she picked up, she looks much like a seal. Whoopi’s sporting an extra roll around her shoulders now. As Ian says, “You could fit another dog in all that extra skin.”
Her nails look fabulous. Juanita took her for a mani/pedi at the local spa where they even offered ear cleaning service. (Her huge bloodhound ears are just fine. I forgot to ask what they thought about the fact that she has shotgun pellet in one ear – you can actually pick the ear up with a magnet!)
Here are a few vacation photos and videos of their adventures.
This is the picture Juanita texted me after their first night. Oh yeah, commence spoiling!
We’re headed to the beach THIS Saturday which is so totally awesome. An entire week with two of my favorite families and most, possibly all, of my kids. Yay. No stalls to muck or weeds to pull.
Here’s the problem: I still have two foster dogs.
Two foster dogs who are very dear to my heart. What to do. What to do. At first I panicked and considered having our house/horse sitter take care of them, but then I realized that was crazy and unrealistic because only a crazy person like me is happy to deal with a 75-pound bloodhound AND an over-the-top enthusiastic dog like Ginger AND a snarly, grumpy, poop-rolling personal dog AT THE SAME TIME. I couldn’t ask this of my very nice college-age house sitter who I’ve hired to care for the horses and water the plants.
So, I started begging and I managed to find two babysitters for Whoopi who will tag team the extended week, but Gingersnap is headed to boarding at this point. Which breaks my heart. But hopefully, not hers.
Many of my foster dogs have come and gone quickly. So quickly, that we barely got to scratch the surface of their personalities. This is not the case with my two current dogs whom I think may still be with us at Christmas.
Not because they are bad dogs – quite the contrary, but here’s the complications involved with either of them finding a forever family quickly….
First, take Whoopi.
Considering her kingdom
She’s a hit at events. Even a non-dog lover easily proclaims, “Look at the bloodhound!” They’ve all seen them on TV and in the movies, because what screams redneck, hillbilly, sidekick as loud as a bloodhound?
I took Whoopi to the Petapalooza on Sunday and she was wonderful.
Here she is posing with the Mary Kay lady in the next booth (“Mary Kay is so powerful it can even take on these kinds of wrinkles!”) Continue reading “Last Ones Picked…”→
Hound dogs drool, but you probably knew that. I did, too. But did you know that when the drool starts to reach the floor, that’s the cue to do the shake?
What’s the shake, you ask?
It’s when the hound dog flings her head back and forth, batting herself with her mile-long ears, her face literally smacking her face, and flinging dog drool over anyone in the vicinity.
To be fair, Whoopi really only seriously drools when she drinks water. So, we’ve taken to watering her on the porch. Better for all of us because who wants to step her bare foot in a slippery pile of dog drool? (trust me on this one)
Hound dogs also bay. Like seriously loud. Ian says that when Whoopi is really barking he can feel it in his chest.
Ian and Whoopi have been spending a lot of time together. This is because he is the only person in the house large enough and strong enough to walk Whoopi on our property without great personal risk. (Ian is only 13, but he is 6 foot, 180 pounds of shot-put tossing muscle.)
As I’ve explained before, we live on a hill. Six acres of lovely countryside, but not a level spot of ground anywhere. Walking up the hill with Whoopi is nice. She is a sturdy tow-rope and it’s fairly easy going. Walking back down is another story. Once she has momentum on her side, I’m a goner. I stumble/run/ski along behind her like some kind of looney-tunes character, yelling “whoa” and pulling with both arms.
Walking both ever-enthusiastic Ginger (who is still here!) and Whoopi together is a silly idea.
I know this and yet this morning in a momentary loss of sanity, I decided that I’d take them both for a three mile jaunt up the road and back. Continue reading “Hound Dog Workout for One”→
I’m wrung out. Physically, emotionally, mentally…. just done. The last week was a whirlwind of activity and stress in my life – both good and bad.
My second novel released; my daughter competed in the County Distinguished Young Women program; my oldest returned from his first year in college; my youngest sustained a concussion in a soccer game; I received some tough news; Mother’s Day happened; five puppies were adopted; the dog warden was rumored to be stopping by for an inspection; and, perhaps the hardest part of the week – it was gray, rainy, and cold EVERY DAY. Gray days get to me. They make it very hard to slap on a smile and put up with the daily messes and stresses.
But, I’m grateful for the sunshine on Sunday and grateful that I still have four puppies to snuggle. In fact, despite their messes, having the puppies around during this stressful week made all the difference. They got me through. Schuyler helped some days, but she was definitely picking up on my stress level and her chewing went in to overtime – she destroyed my sandals, assorted plastic containers (left on the counter), and Ian’s football.
Still, this week has underlined what I already know – the presence of animals is critical for my survival. How about you?
Maybe you’ve thought about fostering but aren’t sure you’re ready. Let me tell you something – you’re never ready. None of us are.
Luckily, the dogs are pretty understanding and more than patient with us. We offer them stability, food, safe shelter, medical treatment, and most of all – love. That’s five things they may have never experienced in their lives.
And here’s what they offer in return –
Unconditional and many times overly enthusiastic love. And this can’t be overstated. Time and again, I’ve been overwhelmed by the affection and devotion my foster dogs shower on me often within hours of their arrival. It does seem they are grateful even if the experts might dispute that dogs understand the concept of gratitude.
Ian being ‘loved on’ in the puppy pen
A chance to make a difference not only in a dog’s life, but in the lives of its adopters. Helping people is healing. I’ve discovered that when I am most down, the quickest way to get happy is to focus on others. Fostering dogs offers plenty of opportunity to touch the lives of others – both canine and human.
Exercise! There have been more than a few mornings, this winter in particular, when I didn’t want to go for a walk or run, but many of those days I had a foster dog in residence who needed a walk or run. Fostering could very well be an excellent fitness plan for anyone.
Entertainment! Welcoming new dogs into your home on a regular basis means you’ll have a steady stream of entertainment. The antics, quirks, silliness, and fun vary with every dog. It’s also been one of the few things our family can do together. While some members are more enthusiastic than others, I’m pretty sure they’re all glad we do it – even my daughter who doesn’t always appreciate their messy affections.
A whole new network of friends who quickly become like family. Other OPHers who also foster or volunteer are quick to reach out with help and support whether it’s showing up to help you give your first vaccine, drop off additional supplies, offer suggestions for how to handle housetraining issues, or simply cheer you on. Being welcomed into the OPH family is a huge benefit I never considered when I was making my decision to foster, but it’s probably one of the reasons I can’t ever imagine quitting.
I can hear you now, coming up with all your excuses, so let me address a few of the most common-
1)I don’t know what I’m doing. True, you don’t. But you’ll learn soon enough. I was pretty nervous about giving vaccines to my first puppies. And I wondered, how can this organization simply tell me to watch a youtube video, hand me the syringe and expect me to stick it into a squirming puppy? To be fair, I’m sure if I’d said, “Hey, needles make me squeamish- I can’t do this,” someone would have shown up on my doorstep and done it for me. But I was the one who chose to do puppies. I could have stuck with dogs and avoided the needles all together.
Watching the video and then putting on my big-girl panties and actually giving the vaccines turned out to be no big deal. I COULD do it. This past weekend, I gave ten shots (all the puppies plus Schuyler), ten bordatella intranasal vaccines, and ten heartworm pills. My husband helped hold the puppies and we did all of that in about 15 minutes. No biggie, piggie (as my dear friend Lisa says).
OPH has more resources – both on paper, online, and in person, plus conference calls and near-constant online support – than anyone could possibly need. No, you may not know what you’re doing, but OPH does and you will too, soon enough.
2)What if I get a difficult dog? OPH does a pretty good job of screening dogs and doesn’t knowingly bring in aggressive dogs. That said, if you foster enough dogs you’re going to run into an issue eventually. We’ve fostered 43 dogs (holy moly and that’s in barely 15 months!), and with no exceptions I could have easily kept every one of them.
The toughest to deal with was Hadley because she was the most traumatized and Foo Foo, who about drove me crazy with her inability to understand the concept of peeing outside.
Carla couldn’t stay off the beds and John Coffey escaped a time or two. But other than the damage to the living room carpet before we installed a baby gate to keep new fosters in the kitchen until they’ve earned their house privileges, our home is more or less unscathed. I can’t say the same for too many pairs of shoes and personal items that were not put away where they belong and there is not a stuffed animal left stuffed anywhere in the house.
I know that more challenging dogs are on our horizon, but I also know that this organization will not abandon me or any dog, so I am ready.
3)I might get stuck with a dog long term. We’ve been more than amazed that all of our dogs have been adopted pretty quickly. Carla stayed the longest (4 months), but she was a tough placement since she was a five-year-old, 75-pound coonhound with a quirky personality. (We all still miss Carla.) Our shortest foster was Tweety, who stayed with us just barely 24 hours. I picked her up from boarding one day and she was gone the next.
So, no, you won’t get stuck with a dog unless you choose to foster-fail and that will all be on you. I’ve learned it’s a very common thing amongst OPH fosters. So far, we are resisting, but it is a conscious decision every single time. We came oh-so-close to keeping Frank, but in the end he got a great forever family and I get regular updates of his happiness.
4)It will cost money. I will tell you that it won’t, but then it might. We’ve spent plenty of our own money, but we’ve done so willingly. Nearly everything we need is supplied through OPH and donations, but sometimes it’s just easier to go grab a few items ourselves. Mostly I remember to save receipts for the tax write-off, but in the end, sure, we spend some money. But who doesn’t spend money on something they love?
5)I work full-time and the dog will be alone all day. I’m lucky because I work from home and many of my fosters can hang out with me as I work. Their company is welcome. But I know plenty of people who foster through OPH and crate their foster dog during the hours they are away.
At first I thought – poor dogs, but then it was pointed out to me that dogs sleep 20 hours or more a day. (This must be where the term ‘lucky dog’ comes from!) My personal dog chooses to spend a good portion of time every day in her crate.
We never close her in unless someone is visiting (she is still learning how to NOT jump on the people she likes and NOT bite the people she’s afraid of), and still she chooses to sleep in her open crate probably pretty close to 20 hours a day. So, no, working full-time out of the house doesn’t mean you can’t foster dogs.
Ready to get involved? Fostering is a great gig. It’s such a privilege to be part of the journey of these amazing dogs. There are quite literally hundreds of dogs headed our way this summer. Consider opening your home and your heart to a foster dog. It’s awesome, messy, fun, and occasionally stressful, but the bottom line is you will get so much more than you will ever give.
Click here to get more information or apply to foster.
Every day reveals another layer of Schuyler. She’s no longer Mama dog – as we’d taken to calling her when she arrived with her brood of nine pups. Now she’s Schuyler or Sky. Her mothering duties are over and she’s even beginning to regain her girlish figure.
She’s ready to be a dog instead of a mama. This means she tearing up toys/stuffed animals/pens/pencils/egg cartons (plus the eggs inside them – who left that on that counter???). She is not just a chewer; she is a destroyer. So far, the saving grace has been KONG toys – she can’t make a dent in them and is happy to gnaw away for hours in her efforts.
When we are asked her breed, I always say “dog” because other than her kind-of-lab-like appearance there hasn’t been anything to suggest a particular breed. Lab mix is the default breed for rescue dogs with short, dark hair and a medium-large size. We’ve had lots of ‘lab mixes’ and they’ve covered a range of personalities and sizes. I’m not suggesting she isn’t lab, but I could easily agree she’s nearly any breed you want to suggest. She’s a classic mutt. I happen to love mutts, so I see that as just one more of her many attributes.
All of that said, I’m beginning to think there could be some kind of border collie/shepherd in her, short hair and all. I have two pieces of evidence to suggest this.
First, she is devoted. I’ve read/heard that working dogs tend to fixate on one person and give their complete attention/devotion/affection to that person.
Schuyler loves me. Nevermind that Nick spends more time with her than any of the other dogs we’ve fostered, and suggests almost daily that we should keep her (we won’t). Schuyler likes him very much, even giving off a little squeal when she sees him pull in the driveway. She likes Ian, too, greeting him with happy wags when he appears. She even likes Addie, who takes loud offense at Schuyler’s friendly, snuffly nose.
But she has chosen me.
When I work in the kitchen, I can feel her eyes following my every move. When I go outside, I have to lock the door because she quickly figured out how to work the lever handle door so she could let herself out to follow me. While I do barn work or garden work, she waits at the kitchen door, watching, vigilant. If she catches sight of me, her excitement spills over. Here’s a video of Schuyler reacting to spotting me moving around outside: Continue reading “Introducing….Schuyler!”→
This week my pups went from “on hold” to “available for adoption.” Of course, they can’t go home for 2 more weeks, but this is the beginning of the end for me.
The hardest part was writing up a little “blurb” on each for the website. They are all cute. They are all wonderful. They are all the best one. I would keep every single one of them. Truly. But we aren’t running a dog farm, here, despite what the cats tell the neighbors.
How do I write nine different descriptions of these little butterballs I’ve come to love, despite the enormous amounts of poop produced hourly?
Not easy. Because, take Peggy. Is she shy? That makes her sound less attractive. She’s careful, is what I wrote. When the other pups rush me each time I enter their pen, she hangs back. Is she scared, or is she just smart? She knows I will get to her. She knows that after I have greeted all the others who simply can’t wait as she can, I’ll reach for her. And I’ll pick her up and snuggle her under my chin, away from the flailing mob beneath.
What kind of dogs these pups become, will mostly be determined by their adopters. They need love, that’s the easy part, because who doesn’t love a puppy? But they also need careful, consistent training. And boundaries. And good food fed regularly. And plenty of exercise, socialization, snuggles.
Every one of them could be the best dog ever. All it takes is lots and lots and lots of time and intentional training.
Nick petitioned to keep Lafayette – tossing out names like Target, Targette (French pronunciation), Spot, Spanky, the list goes on. He is a great pup. He has a wonderful sense of humor and could easily be voted most popular in the puppy yearbook. I entertained the idea through one bottle of wine on a gorgeous evening, but later decided, that, no, I don’t have time for a puppy. And if I’ve learned anything from my sweet dog, Gracie, it’s that I am not a good puppy trainer. No puppies in my near future. Maybe once the kids are launched (and don’t come back).
I’ve been thinking a lot about weaning. Mostly this is because I’ve been helping Schuyler let go of her pups and reclaim her independence, but also because my 16-year-old is straining to wean herself from our cloying care. But, really, isn’t that what raising a parent is all about? Teaching them that you can make it on your own? (As long as you have a cell phone and they’re paying the bills?)
Schuyler’s much better at this weaning process than me. She began weaning her pups at 3-weeks. In dog years, what’s that? Like maybe the equivalent of four months? Kind of standard for the very beginning of weaning a baby, too, I suppose.
The puppies were just over two weeks old, when she began struggling to keep up with their demands for food and they began sharing her bowl of kibble. I wetted the food so they wouldn’t choke on it and once the puppies discovered they could eat solid food they doubled their weight in a week.
Caring for these puppies brings back so many memories of caring for my own babies.
For instance, everything looks like a potential choke hazard or a threat to their safety. I worry about them all day long – is it too hot? Too cold? Can that one breathe on the bottom of the pile? Is the water bowl too full – could one fall in it and drown? Was that a sneeze? It’s gotten ridiculous – I’m even examining the fringy edges of the older towels – what if a puppy started eating this loose string and kept going and going….
Sometimes when the puppies sleep, they sleep so hard I worry they’re dead. SPD – Sudden Puppy Death Syndrome – is there such a thing? I don’t know, so I lay a quiet hand on a belly to check if they’re breathing. Lafayette and Peggy sleep so deeply they don’t move, even when other puppies trample them or I lift their heads trying to get a reaction.
And the laundry! Just like when I had babies and toddlers at home, the laundry is endless. Non stop. Towel after towel after rag after blanket. Truly unending.
The sounds are also reminiscent of living with babies – there is crying and whining, but there is also that wonderful snuffly sound they make when they’re nursing. They’re just learning to work their vocal chords and the volume and repertoire is growing daily.
When they chase their own tails and then chew on them, it reminds me of my own babies discovering their toes and being so delighted they had to put their toes in their mouths.
and 
and 
But other than the damage to the living room carpet before we installed a baby gate to keep new fosters in the kitchen until they’ve earned their house privileges, our home is more or less unscathed. I can’t say the same for too many pairs of shoes and personal items that were not put away where they belong and there is not a stuffed animal left stuffed anywhere in the house.
Every day reveals another layer of Schuyler. She’s no longer Mama dog – as we’d taken to calling her when she arrived with her brood of nine pups. Now she’s Schuyler or Sky. Her mothering duties are over and she’s even beginning to regain her girlish figure.
Another Good Dog™ 