oph, puppies

Still Life with Puppies

Edith and the puppies are all doing well. I’m very proud to say Edith has put on some weight. She is still too skinny to be nursing 12 growing puppies, but she looks better. She’s an excellent mom, yet she’s also become quite independent. She spends portions of her days outside the box, relaxing on the floor (so far she is hesitant to use the Frank bed) or following me around the kitchen. When I sit with her on the Frank bed, she will lean in to me and close her eyes, and I swear she looks like she’s smiling. It’s the only time I truly see her relax. It’s been such a long journey for her to this place and she has so far to go, but I think she knows that she isn’t alone in this anymore.dsc_4858

She’s relaxing more about the puppies, now, too. For the first few days, whenever anyone new came in the kitchen, she would pile up the puppies in the corner and more or less sit on them like a mother bird. The puppies protested this treatment. Now, though, when someone new comes in the kitchen, if she is in the box she’ll glance my way, and if she is out of the box she’ll stick close to me, trusting my judgment as to whether her puppies are in danger.

Last night when the puppies were whining loudly as I changed the towels in the box, checked their collars, and weighed them, Gracie appeared on the other side of the gate that keeps her out of the kitchen. She barked and growled, possibly complaining about the noise the puppies were making. (They tend to squeal when I place them in the plastic bin on the scale.) Edith watched her, but said nothing.

On Saturday, I left Nick and Ian in charge of Edith and the puppies, and spent the day at the New Freedom Fest, volunteering at the OPH booth and also selling/signing my books. The weather was great and we got to talk to lots of potential volunteers, fosters, and adopters. We had two dogs with us – Mademoiselle and Shortcake who garnered lots of attention (but sadly, no adopters). They were troopers, and completely spent by lunchtime.

The New Freedom Fest includes a Pet Parade with prizes and we were asked to be one of the judges. Serious pressure, here, at least for me because all the dogs were the best and I love the kind of enthusiastic people who participate in events like a pet parade. Watching all the dogs (and one cat!) go by brought back memories of when my daughter won the “best overall” category in the pet parade with one of our chickens many years ago. She spent several afternoons ‘teaching’ the chicken to walk in a cat harness, but in the end she towed the chicken in a wagon. Only in a small town, I suppose.

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One of my former fosters, OPH alum Chase (Okeriete) won the “cutest dog” category. He was dressed like a hotdog and led by his equally adorable big brother. Of course, they got our vote, but I was happy they got the other judges votes, too!

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When I got home from my day away, Edith was happy to see me and the puppies, whose eyes and ears remain closed, didn’t much care or notice that I was home. They still resemble guinea pigs more than puppies, but they are getting stronger. They’re pulling themselves up more, wobbly and unsteady, but nearly standing. Some of their personalities are beginning to show. Zora is quite independent. I often find her sleeping solo.dsc_4883

Charlotte needs constant company and she likes to be the top dog. She generally casts about for a puppy pile and then climbs to the top.

Harper is very attached to her mommy and has a lot to say (as does Virginia).

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Hemingway is pretty chill at all times, generally lounging on his back with his legs splayed. (such a boy!) George, perhaps because she is the smallest, can move the fastest. She and Hemingway have a bond and are frequently snuggled together.

Beatrix is a tank and easily the biggest puppy. She also has a racing stripe on her belly.

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Jane is a funny girl– very busy and social. She’s a darker blond than the other yellow pups with distinctive white markings. I’ve caught more than one picture of her with what looks like a very contented smile. Here she is with Eudora and Charlotte.

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Every now and again they line up like piano keys to nurse and it creates a great visual effect: (The two prominent yellow pups are Louisa and Eudora – they’re quite the twinsies, although Eudora is one of the two runts and is a bit smaller and lighter than her sister.)

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Six of the pups have adoption applications. On Saturday at the Fest, I spoke with several more people who are quite interested in a puppy. Maybe we can get them all adoption pending before their eyes even open! Of course, this doesn’t mean any of these people will adopt the pup they’ve chosen (or been assigned to), it only means they get first dibs. So, if you want dibs on any of these babes, I’d recommend that you get your application in pronto. There’s a cheat sheet at the end of this post to help you sort out the puppies on this blog and the Facebook group (which you should join if you need a puppy fix!)

 

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Here’s all 12 – can you find them all?

One more thought (AND an opportunity!)–

I’m pretty sure that the Pennsylvania contingent of OPH is the smallest. While working the booth on Saturday, we agreed that we desperately need more volunteers and fosters. Two dogs, one of them Lucy, were unable to come to the event on Saturday for lack of a ride. We need people who are willing to pick up a dog from a foster’s home and bring it to/from an event. The more exposure the dogs get, the quicker they can find their forever homes. We also need volunteers to do things like reference checking (which can be done from home), taking pictures of dogs, visiting/spending time with dogs in boarding, and most especially organizing and staffing adoption events. If you’ve got any time to give—we could use YOU. To volunteer, go to the OPH website and sign up. I’d love to work with you to rescue more dogs!

NOTE: Several of you have asked about Edith’s expenses in terms of her heartworm treatment. Can I just say that you are the best people with the biggest hearts? I’m working with OPH and their heartworm coordinator to figure out a way to help you contribute to her treatment and at the same time help raise awareness of this horrible condition that is completely preventable and claims the lives of too many dogs. I’m hoping to be able to let you know soon how you can be involved, so stay tuned!

Puppy Key:

blond pup, no collar – Emily Dickinson

purple collar – Virginia Woolf

black pup, no collar, big boy – Hemingway

dark green collar – Eudora Welty

blue collar – Charlotte Bronte

red collar – Zora Neale Hurston

pink collar – Beatrix Potter

brown collar – Emily Dickinson

bright green collar – Harper Lee

orange collar – Harriet Beecher Stowe

yellow collar – Louisa May Alcott

no collar, black pup, small girl – George Elliot

Edith Wharton, fosterdogs, heartworms, oph

A Real Rescue

Where to begin? The cuteness? The adorable sounds? The AMAZING mama dog who has completely stolen my heart? So much to tell you!

We’ll start with the obvious. If you’ve joined the Another Good Dog Facebook page, you already know the 12 pups in my kitchen are addictively cute. I can spend WAY too much time just watching them ‘swim’ around the box.

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Their eyes and ears haven’t opened yet and they can’t support their weight, so they swim around, much like seals on land or fat snakes with appendages.

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Continue reading “A Real Rescue”

Edith Wharton, fostering, puppies, Uncategorized

Expecting

Not much has gone as expected for the past few days. Okay, well, a few things. My husband took off for France. Ian won his soccer game, and Addie got the part she wanted in the school play (of course it wasn’t the part I expected she’d get as she’ll be Blackstache instead of Molly or any other part normally assigned a girl in Peter and the Starcatchers). The tomatoes continue to produce, as do the horses, and now that school has started pretty much no one puts their dishes in the dishwasher. Those things I expected and they happened. Yay, life behaving itself.

What hasn’t gone as expected is most everything having to do with our 50th foster dog.

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I’d painted this lovely romantic picture in my mind of our 50th foster dog, Edith Wharton, giving birth to a handful of puppies in our kitchen as we all watched and were amazed by the miracle. What a great experience for our milestone foster. I was so ready.

I borrowed a really nice handbuilt whelping box from my neighbors (who at this point are probably beginning to wish they lived on a different road as I hit them up for pretty much every dog dilemma I have). We set it up in our kitchen and Nick ran to the hardware store and bought foam pipe insulators to cover the top edges so Edith wouldn’t rub her heavy belly on it when she climbed in. I set down a layer of soft things and puppy pads in preparation.

I looked through my calendar for the next week or so, making sure I could be home if necessary, already preparing my excuses (“Sorry, you’re on the own. Gotta go. There’s a dog giving birth in my kitchen…”)

I read about puppy whelping and even watched a few badly made YouTube videos of it actually happening. I gathered advice from my knowledgeable dog-breeder neighbor and made a list of the supplies I’d need. A box of some of those supplies arrived from OPH (thanks Gina!) and pretty soon I was ALL READY. Edith was due to arrive in less than 24 hours!

And then I checked my email.

Apparently Edith was not made aware of my preparations and my whelping box and she gave birth to the puppies at the shelter that morning.

I was disappointed and a little bit relieved.

Here’s the other unexpected news – Continue reading “Expecting”

adopters, fosterdogs, fostering, Lucy, Oberyn, oph, puppies, Rooney

50th Times the Charm

Our house is much quieter. (for now)

Rooney finally went home with her new forever mom after a long wait. They met over a week ago and fell in love, but we had to wait for Rooney to finish her antibiotics and be 100% healthy so she could go home. Which she did on Friday. And we all miss her. My little brother will be very happy to know Rooney is in the Air Force now! Her mom is one of America’s finest.

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Before she left, she, Lucy, and Obie had a fun week.

Here’s Obie and Lucy sharing a stick:

And here’s Rooney and Obie not sharing a pumpkin: Continue reading “50th Times the Charm”

adopters, foster dogs, fosterdogs, fostering, Lucy, Oberyn, oph, Rooney

Of Puppies and Pumpkins

I just forced myself to stop playing with the puppy-doll and get back to my desk. Obie is VERY hard to resist. He loves to be held. I wish I’d kept my baby-sling because I’m positive he would be super happy snuggled in it accompanying me about my day. Being the lone puppy is not easy, even despite the bags of toys he received this weekend!

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It was just like Christmas for Obie this weekend when he finally got some new toys to play with! (thanks Mindy and OPH!)

This morning I lunged him in the side yard with my longest leash. If you’re a horse person, you might be familiar with that term. It’s when the person stands still and a horse on a lungeline works in a circle around the person. Obie lunges very well, also. He zooms around and around and around. When he really gets going, he almost looks like a rabbit because his hind legs are reaching in front of his front legs at times.

Kind of like a wind-up toy, this burst of energy expels itself fairly quickly. When he’s finished, he’d like you to pick him up and carry him around, thank you. All day, would be his preference. Obie is pretty much THE best snuggler I’ve encountered. I think that’s remarkable considering he’s a puppy (and most puppies prefer to keep moving). But if you’ll just hold him against your heart with his head tucked under your chin, he’ll be content forever. Yup, definitely a puppy-doll. He’s great therapy for this mom who is missing her oldest kiddo who just left for his second year in college.

Rooney has found her forever family, but is hanging out with us an extra week to complete a course of antibiotics to hopefully clear up the secondary infection she developed after her UTI. No one minds because Rooney is a most gracious guest. Ever since the end of the pee wars, she has been a model foster dog. Continue reading “Of Puppies and Pumpkins”

dog rescue, Dogs with Issues, fosterdogs, fostering, house training, Lucy, Oberyn, oph, puppies, Rooney, Uncategorized

The Pee Wars

I’ve had about enough of the pee wars. Unbeknownst to you, this quiet war has been waging in my kitchen for three days. I don’t know who started it. I don’t know how it will be ‘won,’ but I’ve had entirely enough of it.

So today I armed myself. I bought a doggie diaper. I’m not sure yet which dog will be wearing it, but I’ve decided to place blame on the dog who should know better, so here she is modeling it for you:

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Let me back up.

On Friday evening, I brought home two new fosters. Continue reading “The Pee Wars”

dog rescue, Dogs with Issues, foster dogs, fosterdogs, Lucy, oph, puppies, Uncategorized

Second Chances

Now that I’m back to walking (YES! MRI revealed lots of damage, but nothing to stop me from moving forward and continuing to heal on my own!) I’ve had a chance to catch up on my thinking. So much was backlogged in my brain – ideas, worries, dreams, questions, stories. Lucy and I have increased our walk time each day this week and this morning we wandered the back roads for nearly an hour.

I’m still mulling over the book Rescue Road and pondering the enormous challenges to dog rescue in the US (and in the world). I had begun to feel the same way I did when my elementary school science teacher explained how far away Pluto was – it seemed like an insurmountable distance.

My teeny, tiny part in rescuing dogs couldn’t possibly put even the idea of a dent in the problem. Probably my thoughts were colored by my inability to move without pain. But now, the world looks different. I’m ready to get back in the game. I’m ready to save some more dogs.

I’ve had my moments of frustration with Lucy these past few weeks. She has come so far – she’s no longer scratching and her beautiful tri-colored coat is coming back in, her energy levels are rising (and rising!), and her happiness quotient somehow went even higher.

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Here she is playing with the filling for the Frank bed.

My frustration springs from the fact that she is not accustomed to living indoors. It hasn’t been an easy transition. Part of me wants to put her on a line outside. She’d probably be more comfortable. That’s what she’s known. Instead, we keep her in the kitchen and walk her frequently. We reward her when she pees outside and admonish her when she pees inside.

I think she finally understands she shouldn’t pee on our floor, but this morning when she evidently couldn’t hold it a moment longer, she peed on the Frank bed. I was so angry! Why would she do this? Why? Why? Why? I took her outside and then I closed her in her crate. Continue reading “Second Chances”

dog rescue, fosterdogs, Gingersnap, oph, shelters

A Fixable Problem

WARNING: This is not a happy or funny post. It might bum you out, or maybe it will inspire you. I’m taking my chances sharing my grief and frustration.

IMG_3629Today is the day Ginger will leave. I feel unprepared. Every other time, when a dog was leaving that I knew would break my heart, I had a plan in place. A new foster on its way or already in our house, or I had somewhere to go or be that would distract me. Not today.

Because I’m still waiting to see a doctor who will have the answers, I can’t commit to a new dog/puppy. I’m not a good patient or a patient person, so my hurting knee is dragging me down. Lucy is still here, but we’re finding our routine and she’s ready to go to a forever home as soon as her people find her.

Today is different than other adoption days. Without my usual props in place, I already feel the tears gathering and I hate that. This is the hardest part of fostering. This heart-cratering pain that is so completely unavoidable- if I just didn’t foster dogs. It’s self-inflicted, preventable, and yet, I know it’s nothing compared to the pain of all the dogs that never make it out.

I’m currently reading Rescue Road, the story of a man named Greg Mahle, who drives a tractor-trailer full of rescue dogs from the deep south, to foster homes and adopters in the north twice a month. He’s helped rescue over 30,000 dogs and driven a million miles.

I’m trying to read it as fast as I possibly can because it is unbearable. Every time I have to close the book and move back into my world I feel sad, unmoored, frustrated. How can there be people in this world, in this time, who would dump a litter of newborn puppies in a trashcan or worse yet, set that trash can on fire?

How can there be state-run ‘shelters’ that are no more than concrete holding pens completely exposed to the elements where dogs are dumped all together (young, old, sick, neutered or not) to wait for no one (or maybe a rescue) to claim them before they die of preventable diseases or state mandated euthanasia? This book breaks my heart. Reading it this weekend, knowing it was our last with Ginger, made for a sad, sad few days.

Yes, I know, Ginger is going to a GREAT home. It’s the only happy thought available for me to hold on to. Only that great home isn’t mine. It can’t be. Technically, it could be, but reading Rescue Road this weekend underlined again for me exactly why it can’t be—there are too many dogs still down there. Too many dogs dying every day because of ignorance, cruelty, apathy, and lack of resources. This is a fixable problem. Maybe that’s what makes me most crazy. Parvo, mange, heartworms, overpopulation—these are ALL preventable or treatable.

All of my mixed feelings and sadness is complicated by the fact that my knee is not healing. It limits me. Just this morning, I fell, once again. Even though I had on my brace and my new super grippy shoes that my husband insisted I buy, my unstable let still slid out from under me on a stick that fell in last night’s storm as I made my way down the hill with Lucy. Ouch.

And then there’s Lucy.
Continue reading “A Fixable Problem”

Bambi, Carla, dog rescue, fosterdogs, Lucy, oph, running with dogs

The Grave Consequences of Being a Slow Learner

I’ve fallen down a lot over the past year and a half while we’ve been fostering dogs. I’m talking about physically falling down, though certainly I’ve mentally and emotionally taken my tumbles.

Carla was the first to knock me over when she darted in front of me while we were running. A 75-pound coonhound is not something you can hop over, so instead she took me out like a football player making a clean block. Luckily (for me) she broke my fall. I only suffered a few scratches and started running with a longer leash so the next time she’d have the leash length to clear me if she happened to notice a squirrel on my opposite side.

Then Frank pulled me over twice. Frank wasn’t huge, but he was 50+ pounds of solid muscle. When he slipped into the chicken pen as I was closing the gate, I chased after him and stupidly grabbed his collar while he was in full flight. You can imagine the rest. A skinned elbow and bruised knee were my penance for my bad decision. (Frank didn’t get a chicken, though, so perhaps it was worth it.)

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The second time I was walking down our steep hill in smooth-soled shoes and my feet slid out from under me. I’m not sure he had anything to do with that fall other than happening to be on the other end of the leash when I clumsily lost my footing. The result of that fall was only a few grass stains.

DSC_9923Tennessee took me out while running. He had been the perfect running companion, incredibly obedient and sticking close to my side for weeks. Until something behind us startled him and he slammed into me in his panic and sent me sprawling. I ended up with two skinned knees and one skinned palm on that one.

After that I had a long run of not falling over, nearly a year and then Whoopie yanked me over when her bloodhound nose picked up the scent of a cat and I couldn’t keep up. I did a lovely belly flop on the grass, but was no worse for wear.

And then this past Monday night, I hit the ground again, only this time I didn’t get up. I was walking Bambi and Lucy at the same time in wet grass, in the dark, in sandals, down the hill. So, you can already see all the mistakes I made going into this. The two of them both lunged forward at the same time and I’m not even sure why. I think Bambi was only excited, as she is a puppy, and I believe Lucy, who is not a puppy but has a puppy-spirit simply joined in the fun. Continue reading “The Grave Consequences of Being a Slow Learner”

Bambi, dog rescue, foster dogs, fostering, Gingersnap, Lucy, oph

Our Present Pack of Pups

My trusty co-pilot and helper (read: the only kid without a driver’s license or a job this summer) and I met the Lucy train in Hagerstown last Wednesday and picked up our latest charge. She’d been riding shot-gun for the last leg with a very nice person named Terri. When I opened the hatch of my SUV, she hopped right in, settled in the crate we’d brought and went to sleep. Obviously, she wouldn’t be a high-maintenance guest.

This poor pup has been through it—I can’t say exactly what, but she is riddled with scars, the worst one being a permanent necklace from where a collar was embedded and/or she was left chained up for a long period. Despite all that, she is a happy, friendly, easy-going girl. The resilience of dogs is something to behold.

Thankfully, she doesn’t appear to be pregnant. As exciting as that would have been, the last thing this sweet girl needs is puppies. Her skin is inflamed and hot and covered in some form of eczema that requires us to keep a cone on her 24/7 so she won’t chew herself bloody. It’s a testimony to her good nature that she handles her misery so well. She scratches at the cone trying to get to her neck and chest, where the rash is worst. She chews at her side, biting the plastic cone that prevents her from a reaching her itchy skin. It may not help, but maybe the effort brings a mental relief. I remember scratching at my riding helmet covering my itchy head when I was in the middle of a competition or lesson. It’s psychological; you feel like you’re doing something. I would shake my head, too, which I’ve seen Lucy doing.

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If you’ve ever had poison ivy or hives covering your entire body, you might have some sense of what this pup is going through. The urge to itch is all-consuming and yet—she can’t reach it. She’s headed to the vet on Wednesday to confirm that she isn’t pregnant and hopefully get a prescription for some serious drugs to help her out. The vets that examined her before she came north diagnosed a flea allergy. While there are no fleas on this girl now (I’ve given her enough oatmeal baths to verify that), I would assume at some point she was infested with them. Continue reading “Our Present Pack of Pups”