Uncategorized

Bring on the Good Times!

DSC_0674John Coffey is quite the dog. It took me awhile to figure out what to call him. Originally we thought we’d go with ‘JC’ since he looks like such a slick character, but upon meeting him and spending some time with him we decided he’s WAY too puppy for such a laid back name.

We picked up this newest foster dog from another OPH foster on our way home from Virginia. (Sigh. So wish we were still on vacation – the wine, the weather, the oysters were all wonderful. If I hadn’t done a face plant during our first hike it would have all been perfect.)

Livia and Nick told us they’d been calling this little guy, ‘Coffey.’ He was one squirming bundle of happiness. It comes out his pores, I believe. He can’t wag fast enough to express his joy and emits tiny little whimpers of ecstasy when you pet him. This dog just wants to be LOVED.

We had no room in our car for a crate (we brought home five cases of wine – who’s up for a little happy hour?), so John Coffey was given a section of the back seat. That just would not do, not when there were TWO people less than an arm’s length away who could be petting him. He rode the entire hour and a half posed like a hood ornament on the console between our seats, alternately licking a face or nuzzling a shoulder.

IMG_2104 (1)

When we got him home, we discovered that the energy does not dissipate. In fact, it seemed to increase. Luckily, he has smarts in equal measure to his energy and is SO eager to please that he’s a quick study. Currently, we’re working on the not-jumping-on-everyone-at-all-times trick. I’ve decided that his full name fits him, as in “John Coffey get down. John Coffey that’s enough. John Coffey DOWN.” He’s like a small child whose mother uses his full name when she means it. And so I believe he won’t be JC or Coffey, but John Coffey.

I felt compelled to look up the name to see who John Coffey really was. All the early hits on google describe the role played by Michael Clarke Duncan in The Green Mile based on the book by Stephen King. That John Coffey is a much more complicated character than our John Coffey.

The next bunch of hits are about a punk rock star from the Netherlands named John Coffey. We’re definitely getting warmer. He’s most famous for his amazing beer catch last June. Here’s a video of the catch and then an explanation of the physics behind it.

http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2015/06/18/beer_catch_video_john_coffey_singer_s_most_rock_star_thing_ever_explained.html

The next John Coffey I found is a professor with a PhD n Positive Developmental Psychology. I’ve decided that this is the John Coffey our John Coffey is named after. All his papers on Linked In are about happiness. You could never encounter a more positive pup. Such an appropriate namesake!

We’re looking forward to hanging out with John Coffey. He’s quite the entertaining character. Left alone for twenty minutes in the kitchen this morning, he rearranged the furniture. He moved the Frank bed to the middle of the room, ostensibly so he could lie on it and still see around the corner to where I was in the living room. He pulled a dictionary (a big dictionary, think unabridged, hardback) down off the kitchen table and I found it, unmutilated, but open to the J’s! Maybe he was looking up who he was named after. He dragged the toy basket to the center of the room, right next to the Frank bed which made it easier for him to sort through the plethora and take out all the yellow dewalt plastic tool casings and make a separate pile of them by the door. (Nick brought these home for Frank and Tennessee – great free chew toys.)

rearranging the furniture
rearranging the furniture

DSC_0685DSC_0687

John Coffey isn’t a big dog; he could use a few more sandwiches. When Livia told me that he’d gained nine pounds in his three weeks with them, I was astounded. He’s so skinny. I can’t imagine what he looked like previously. She said he was a ‘skeletore’ and I believe it. We’re trying to pile on the pounds, but he prefers to eat his food scattered across the floor so I’m not sure how much he’s taking in. When I put a bowl of food down, he promptly dumps it. Not sure if this makes dinner more interactive for him, or he is complaining about the service.

DSC_0684

Today I ran him three miles. He’s excellent on the leash, a pro at pulling his leg out from under the leash when it gets tangled. I appreciate this, as I had to stop every time this happened with the last few fosters and that makes for a choppy run. John Coffey has no time for that, he can’t take in life fast enough.

So far the cats are giving him a wide berth. After Chism and Kylie, they are mentally scarred but hopefully not for life. John Coffey is curious about them but only in the way he is curious about pretty much everything. He watches them, but when they run away, he moves on to more interesting things – like bounding after a leaf or tackling a tennis ball. He’s got much bigger fish to fry.DSC_0677

Uncategorized

I May Need a Twelve Step Program

IMG_1982 (1)We’re dogless.

(Except Gracie. I need to remember her. In fact, this week is make-up-for-ignoring-Gracie-week and everything is all about Gracie. She’s gonna get fat on treats. I’m even letting her lie her next to me as I write EVEN THOUGH I know she will fart. I can take it.)

I miss my puppies. Yesterday, Nick observed my sadness and said, “You’re jonesing for a puppy, aren’t you?”

I am. Continue reading “I May Need a Twelve Step Program”

Uncategorized

Our Home – Castle or Assylum?

DSC_0362It was after dark when we finally found our way to the house north of town. We’d missed the transport because we were attending Family Weekend at our son’s college. Now we were following sketchy GPS directions in search of our newest foster dog at the house of another OPH foster who was graciously holding “Rollie,” a ten month old shepherd/lab mix. “Why are we getting another dog again?” asked my husband. “Because I’m weak,” I told him. Which I am.

When I knocked on the door, a chorus of dogs started up. It sounded just like our house! I’d set off the “dog bell” as my husband likes to call it.

When Christine let me in she immediately began explaining the dogs swirling at my feet – a personal dog and a foster fail. I could hear others barking in another room. Again, it was a familiar scenario. I’m always explaining my own swirling dogs to friends, neighbors, the milkman, even the UPS guy. Partly, it’s because for me the dogs are part of the family and thus, require an introduction, and partly because I want to explain that I’m not completely nuts, there’s a reason I have fifty-three dogs (it only feels like it.).

Sidebar: I’m one of over 85 authors exhibiting at the York Book Expo coming up in two weeks and the featured NYTimes Bestselling author is David Rosenfelt. He has personally rescued over 4000 golden retrievers, which is impressive, but what is CRAZY is that he currently lives with 27 golden retrievers IN HIS HOME. Don’t believe me – check out the video. Anyway, he’ll be there, so if you want to meet the freak show in person, you should plan to attend the York Book Expo on Saturday October 17. (Yes, that was shameless self-promotion and no, I don’t really think Mr. Rosenfelt is a freak show. I’m just jealous because he’s a NYT bestseller.)

Okay, back to my story. Christine led me into her kitchen through the gates to retrieve Rollie who was front and center in a large crate alongside another large crate holding another adorable foster dog. Christine released Brownie so we could visit. (Someone should adopt this crazy sweet pup! You’re missing the boat!) These crates took up serious real estate in their kitchen.

This is the first time I’ve been in the home of another OPH foster and I have to say, it was a relief to know we are not the only people who live like this. In fact, I think a tour of Homes is in order for OPH. I’ve love to see what other foster families are doing to preserve their homes and their sanity. Something you learn very quickly when fostering dogs is your home will never be the same. So if you’re seriously into home décor and such, fostering is probably not the gig for you. On the flip side, one bonus about this situation is that you never have to explain why your house is a mess. You have a dozen foster dogs – of course, your home is a mess. No one has any expectation otherwise. Continue reading “Our Home – Castle or Assylum?”

Uncategorized

Our Busy B&B plus PUPPIES!

DSC_0156Puppies! We have puppies! I once again have a house fused with puppy energy, puppy happiness, and of course, the smell of puppies. Charm and Chism are both over-the-top happy girls who beg for my attention every time I walk by the mudroom, clamoring against the puppy pen and whining. Most times I can’t resist their velvet soft ears and sheer joy, so once again, not much is getting done around here.

These puppies are about the same age as my last puppies, except they are twice the size of the last puppies. And let me tell you that cleaning up after two BIG puppies is much more work than cleaning up after six small puppies. This time around OPH had puppy pads for me, which would be awesome if C&C realized that they were meant to be peed on, not torn into a million tiny plastic shreds. Fun times.

DSC_0164But let’s not talk about that, let’s talk about the cuteness level of these two girls. Obviously, Chism steals the show with her splashy, crazy coat. What kind of dog looks like this? Your guess is as good as mine. Her file says ‘hound mix’, but she hasn’t got the hound bark and I don’t really see any hound characteristics at all. She seems more lab-mutt type. Where she got those markings is anybody’s guess.

Chism is in charge of Charm, bossing her around and stealing her food. Charm takes it really well, seemingly happy to share. There are none of the battles of the last batch of puppies. In fact, it’s pretty quiet in that pen unless someone happens by. Both of these girls LOVE people. They don’t snuggle together, but they don’t wrestle either. Every now and again a tug of war breaks out over a toy, but Chism’s got about five pounds and a couple incles on Charm, so she wins that battle every time.

Charm is a love. She’s still light enough that I can pick her up and she will snuggle right into my shoulder and be still. If she moves at all, it’s only to give me a few kisses on the cheek. She won’t stay snuggle-size for long, though, with her mile long legs and good-sized paws. I’m partial to hounds, so when she broke out in a long hound bay the first morning, I loved it. The two of them back up Gracie every time she sounds the alarm that maybe, possibly, there could be something as scary as a leaf blowing around on the driveway. It is not a quiet house. Continue reading “Our Busy B&B plus PUPPIES!”

Uncategorized

Can I Have Just a Word with Adopters?

When I get an email from the adopters of one of my dogs it always makes my day. I don’t know if after I’ve fostered hundreds, I’ll still feel the same way. So far we’ve fostered fourteen dogs & puppies. I still wonder and worry about all of them. And hearing they are doing well and are loved never ceases to plant a smile on my face that lasts for hours. I share the news with my husband and children and patient friends who indulge me as I regale the latest tale of my foster furbaby.

DSC_7920Galina was our first and will always hold a special place in my heart. I can still picture her sweet little self snoring on the futon beside my desk. She had such energy and taught us quickly how destructive a foster dog can be – especially a beagle!

DSC_8233And adorable Wheat Penny, how could we not love that sweet face. She was our first taste of puppy and what a treat she was. And then came Stich (Symphony) who was easy and fun and adorable. I remember thinking, “How could anyone not want this dog?” Her big smile and her pile of hoarded stash in her crate were a constant source of amusement.11053290_935900013116211_8762747800097371945_o Continue reading “Can I Have Just a Word with Adopters?”

Uncategorized

Dog-less (for now…)

We’re dogless. Well, that’s not exactly correct. We still have Gracie.

IMG_1982 (1)

But she doesn’t count.

Okay, that’s not fair. She counts, but she already has her forever home, for better or for worse, so no worries over her.

This week I said good bye to three dogs. I think I’m getting better at this, because instead of being a wiggly-hearted sap, I was excited for my dogs – proud of them and so very happy for the families that lucked into these good dogs.

Frank was the first to go. And the hardest. I still miss his wide soft head, always there, right next to me at the perfect height for petting. I worried and fretted and second-guessed myself, but in the end it was the right home for him. Continue reading “Dog-less (for now…)”

Uncategorized

Chhhhhhanges……Adjusting and Letting Go

Texas and Tennessee keeping tabs on the horses for me.
Texas and Tennessee keeping tabs on the horses for me.

Wasn’t sure I would write this week. We still have no answers with Texas and my heart is tired of thinking about it. Did I miss something? Could we have done something? If only I’d been home….all these thoughts swirl around me when I watch Tennessee and Frank playing without Tex. I’ve always hated mysteries. Living with this one frustrates me, but I guess I’m going to have to make peace with it.

My favorite quote when it comes to parenting, training horses, writing, and now fostering dogs is from Maya Angelou – “You did then what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better.” Simple words, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve turned to them for comfort. Regretting not doing something you weren’t capable of doing at that time is pointless.

Tennessee has morphed into a different dog. I guess none of us realized how much of a calming influence Texas was on my little pack. Left to his own devices, gated in the kitchen, he’s managed to remove the entire top edge from my hard plastic laundry basket, destroy the zipper and strap (the two most important elements) of my daughter’s book bag, and gnaw the corner off one of her school owned textbooks. Continue reading “Chhhhhhanges……Adjusting and Letting Go”

Uncategorized

They’re Really Lovers, Not Fighters, Honest!

DSC_9994I need to find a way to harness all this dog energy to power my house. Two border collies, the Amazing Frank, and my own over-anxious, awkward personal dog, Gracie, have turned our home into something of a three-ring circus.

Lucky for us the boys are all super good at coming when they are called, so they can have regular romps outside. This is a video of the craziness…

It’s so entertaining that one of my new favorite activities is to retire to the top of our hillside in the evening with a glass of wine and watch the shenanigans. The only problem is, just like boy children, boy dog play can sometimes graduate to boy dog fights.

Usually this happens when somebody (the “senior” member of these musketeers) gets tired and has had enough. Texas, who has endless energy and can outrun all the others, just never quits, but since he is too speedy for Frank to grab him, Tennessee usually ends up on the bottom of the pile. Unlike Texas and Gracie who will both take their licks and slink away, Tenn hangs in there for a moment too long probably protesting with growls that say, “Hey! That wasn’t me! It was him! He did it! He’s the one you want!” but either Frank is color blind and simply sees an annoying black dog or he enjoys kicking a little Tennessee butt on occasion.DSC_0059

There’s only been one serious incident which resulted in a small cut on Tennessee’s face. It’s one more nick on his sweet face that was already covered with tiny tooth sized injuries when he arrived at our house, so I’m guessing he isn’t a stranger to these scuffles. I tended his wound and chastised Frank and kept them apart for a few days, but finally relented. They really, really, really wanted to play. And up until that point, they’d done well together, wrestling for hours without it breaking into bloody battles. Besides, Texas needed some relief as he was limping from one too many top-speed full-body slams with Frank. Continue reading “They’re Really Lovers, Not Fighters, Honest!”

Uncategorized

Being Frank About Frank

DSC_9975I’ve been thinking a lot about Frank. He’s the first foster dog I’ve had who was returned. I feel partially responsible for that fact. I worry I didn’t present Frank as frankly as I could have. I wonder if I could have said or done something differently that would have made the situation turn out differently. Maybe, maybe not. I do believe that there are courses we are all on and we must follow them. So maybe Frank moving to Virginia and then back a week later was a lesson for me, for his adopters, and probably for Frank.

Since he moved back in, Frank has been my daily joy, showering me with his devoted affection and constant company, but he has also had a few episodes that illustrate why he wasn’t such a great fit in Virginia.

This morning, I separated him from the other dogs so that everyone could eat in peace. Frank has a habit of sampling everyone else’s food when it’s served and Gracie and Tenn are not sharers, plus Tex can’t afford to miss a meal. So Frank was left alone in the living room with his bowl. I was nearby, folding laundry.

Frank did not eat. Instead, he grew frantic running between me, the gate into the kitchen where he knew T&T were and the door to the porch where Gracie was. Panicked would describe the expression on his sweet face.

When he finally slowed down for a moment, he paused and peed on the dog recliner (the ugly, filthy blue recliner that we long ago stopped trying to keep the dogs off and now keep around just so they can rebel and sit on it). I was shocked! Frank hadn’t peed in our house since the first day he was here over three weeks ago. I yelled and reached for him, but he raced away and I followed him upstairs where he peed on the edge of the blanket on our bed. This time I yelled, but I was able to grab him. I dragged him outside, and left him there while I cleaned up his mess. He whined at the door, but I didn’t let him in until I’d located his male dog wrap and securely fastened it around him. There would be no more peeing in my house.

As soon as Frank was reunited with the other dogs, he relaxed. He spent a half hour wrestling on his humongous bed with Tennessee, his favorite playmate and his biggest advisory. Continue reading “Being Frank About Frank”

Uncategorized

One Dog, Two Dog, Three Dog….Four?

imagejpeg_0Texas and Tennessee have landed! What sweet boys these two are. Couldn’t find better mannered guests. (Well, guests who were housebroken might be better…) They are gentle and eager to please. They watch my (and everyone else’s) every move. Sadly, they both cower when anyone raises a hand above their waist, moves quickly, or picks up anything large (Ian has to keep his baseball bat hidden). I am guessing not every human has handled them kindly. No matter, they seem ready to give just about anyone a chance, loving on every person who walks through my door.

Texas - isn't he a stunner!
Texas – isn’t he a stunner!

These guys seem grateful for every kindness thrown their way. They’re like that visiting relative who is always saying, “Please don’t got to any trouble….really, I’m fine.”  They still haven’t figured out what a treat is and Texas kept running into glass doors, so they seem a bit new to this living-in-a-house-and-being-loved thing. But they are both smart as whips, so they are picking up very quickly on everything, even the don’t-pee-in-the-house rule. We’ve outfitted them with “male dog wraps” which sounds kind of cosmopolitan but is actually a glorified diaper. Male Dog Wraps are my new favorite thing, ever.

IMG_1953 (1)
Here’s Tennessee modeling the latest in dog wrap fashion – a nice gray nylon number.

It’s very good that T&T are such model guests because the house is overflowing with dogs. T&T arrived late Friday night and at 8am on Saturday morning Frank returned to us. He could not make the adjustment to his new home and his wonderful family. It just wasn’t the right fit. I know it was a heartbreaking week for both Frank and his adopters. It was very hard to hear the stories from afar, only able to offer advice when what I wanted to do was run down there and move in and help all of them. In the end, they made the difficult decision to return Frank to OPH and Nick and I knew immediately he had to come back to us. We are wrestling with that decision – the one I said I wouldn’t write about again in this blog. I’ve thought all along that it was up to us to choose a dog, but I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t actually up to the dog to choose us. We shall see. Meanwhile, we are loving on Frank and he has happily assimilated right back into our world and is currently lying behind me watching every word I type (and hopefully not reading this and thinking his little plan worked…). Continue reading “One Dog, Two Dog, Three Dog….Four?”