Alrighty .... I'm lagging a little behind with writing a new entry. Life has been busy. So to tide you over ... an oldie but a goodie! I know it is long. But it is near and dear to my heart and it explains very well how I got to where I am today.
March 2006
As this time of volunteering and then
working at the ALDF rescue shelter in Sanford is winding down and
nearing the end I am sitting here reflecting back and wanted to bring my
thoughts to "paper".
It all started a little over a year
ago when I called my friend (the wrestler) Amy to ask her for tickets
for...... no..... wait a minute ..... I think I actually have to go back
even further - I think you'll see why.
So.... it actually started
when I was about 13 years old. Yes, even back then I knew I wanted to
work with animals. I had seen a TV documentary about the famous animal
behaviorist Konrad Lorenz and his study on wild geese. It so impressed
me, that I read his book(s) and immediately knew that's what I wanted to
do when I grew up. Well..... that was 30 years ago and unless you were a
famous behaviorist, like Lorenz, there wasn't really anything you
"could do" with that profession. "I want to be a veterinarian, then" ...
I said. My Mom in her infinite wisdom was very supportive. "If that's
really what you want to do. But you need to keep in mind that you may
have to "hurt" the animals sometimes. You have to give them injections.
And sometimes you may have to end their suffering by euthanizing them.
Can you really do that?" - Ooops... out the window that went! As much as
I know it is necessary, I think I probably still couldn't do it even
today. But I was determined. At least I wanted to study Biology, somehow
with animals and then we would see. I took my Latin classes which were a
prerequisite to even make it into a college Biology class. But when the
time came I had missed the required GPA by 0.1 point and I was so fed
up with school anyway, I didn't want to go for four years or even
longer. And as there still wasn't really any professional prospect
except maybe research for animal behaviorists - I went after a "solid"
profession, "something to fall back on".
Fast forward a
"few years"; I finally fulfilled my dream of moving to America. Working
with animals is still somewhat forgotten, but Sylvia and I now have 2
cats. Well, actually they live with Sylvia now. The trailer park that
was my first home in the US had a colony of stray cats, actually it was
more a feral colony than anything else, but I didn't know that at the
time. They seemed to adopt me. I started feeding them; one Mom even
brought her kittens to me when she gave birth, because she knew they
would be safe. At the time I earned close to minimum wage, and the extra
food was all I could afford. I didn't have the means to take anybody to
the vet or adopt any of them. Neither did I know about TNR
(trap/neuter/return) or how to get help with it. I wasn't as internet
savvy yet, as I am now, so didn't know how to find the resources.
At
about the same time I moved out of the trailer park I decided to go on
vacation to this special place that Sylvia had "found". She received a
flier in the mail about an amazing animal Sanctuary "Best Friends" which
is in my favorite area in the world (the Southwest). I had kept this
flier for reference when she first sent it to me a couple of years
before with the remarks "wow - I want to work here." So I packed my bags
and headed to Utah to volunteer on my vacation. What can I say - I
think it was a life changing experience. Or maybe it just jolted back
into my heart what was still left there from before. I absolutely loved
it. Of course, the gorgeous scenery might have helped.
Around
that same time I became interested in pro-wrestling. What does
pro-wrestling have to do with the animals you ask? Bear with me…….. I
discovered that some of the wrestlers (and one female) were from North
Carolina and flew out of our airport every weekend. I began looking out
for them and eventually befriended them. Right when I started becoming
really good friends with them, the girl in the group broke her neck and
was on the injured list for a long time. So I never really got close to
her, but I continued to send her well wishes through my friend Matt. She
finished writing her book, I read it and there was an amazing
connection. Turns out, the lady was just as crazy about animals as I am.
For her birthday (or maybe it was Christmas) I got her the Best Friends
book and she was really appreciative. When she started flying again she
treated me like an old friend she hadn’t seen for a while (although we
had never really gotten close before her injury) and we instantly had a
level to bond outside of wrestling. She proceeded to tell me about her
vision to found an animal charity and asked me to help her come up with a
name. Although I can’t take any credit for the name A.D.O.R.E (Amy
Dumas Operation Rescue & Education) I worked on it really hard for a
while there. When her first fundraiser took place I tried to get off
work, but couldn’t. That did not discourage her and next time she gave
me plenty of advance notice and gave me a “personal invitation”. She
said “I really want you to come, even if you just hang out for an hour
or so.” Well, I did one better – I signed up to help out at the event.
Amy insisted that’s not why she told me and I should just come have a
good time, but I wanted to help out. This is the first time I met my
current “boss” Leighann. When the ADORE website was planned Amy asked me
to write some of the content, when it launched I became one of the
moderators on her message board.
Still don’t know how this
all pieces together? Well, here it comes: One night late 2004 I called
Miss Amy to ask her for tickets to an upcoming wrestling show. She said
no problem and then “can you hear them in the background”. Could I hear
them? – heck yes, the barking was deafening. “Where are you at?” And she
proceeded to tell me, that a puppy mill had been busted and they had
seized some of the dogs and she was at a makeshift shelter, where the
dogs had just been brought to, in Sanford. That’s how it started….. I
asked how I can help and I started volunteering there from then on –
twice a week (on my days off) for 8 hours a day. The following April
ALDF won custody for the rest of the dogs (about 300) of them and they
were moved to a now bigger makeshift shelter that had been rounded up
the months before. It was April 13th, 2005 – I remember, because it is
my sister’s birthday!
In the beginning I didn’t
participate in naming the dogs. I didn’t want names, I didn’t want to
get attached, because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to let go or that I
would be heartbroken if I let go. Thankfully, one after the other found
foster homes. The incredible number of over 300 dogs began to shrink,
and it became easier to look after the remaining ones. Easier and more
fun. Plus, now faces started to look familiar. And even though I started
to get closer to the dogs, I was still glad to see them go with
somebody who would love them and would have so much more time to devote
to them. I began to see that this is really what I wanted to do and I
soaked up every ounce of information about how this operation was run.
Nobody
thought it would take this long. I mean, honestly, wouldn’t you think a
court case involving living beings would be sped up to resolve the
issue and get proper care for the poor creatures? But no – the woman
filed an appeal. And the dogs are the ones suffering in a legal limbo.
In any case – fast forward to the end of 2005. All of a sudden I find
myself in need of a part time job and ALDF finds themselves in need of a
part time shift coordinator. Was that fate, or what? I am doing exactly
what I needed to learn – supervising volunteers, making them feel
welcome and needed, feed the dogs, care for the dogs and also talk to
potential foster parents, show them around, inform them. Invaluable
experience in light of looking towards the future.
It is
nuts, but now at 42 I finally know what I want to do with the rest of my
life. My life-chart is coming full circle. I can see it. People come
into our lives for a reason, things happen to us for a reason. In order
to work with the animals I had to move to America, I had to befriend Amy
and I had to rediscover my love for animals, just as she did, when she
was sidelined with her injury. Life’s journey can be quite amazing. I
want to work with animals. I want my own sanctuary – but if somehow that
should not come to pass, I will work at one. I know I won’t get rich
doing that, but I will - if that makes sense. My heart and soul will be
rich beyond measure. How good it feels to have somebody wagging their
whole body just because they see you approaching. How good it feels to
see a dog that used to cower in a corner come out of his shell and trust
you enough to finally come and let you touch him. Those experiences and
emotions are indescribable. Yes, there is heartache – as there is now,
with only a few dogs remaining. A few, that you know the names of, know
their every little weirdness. Saying goodbye to one after the other – it
is tough. Even though we know they’re going to a better place, it is
bittersweet. It is a little like sending your kids off to college. You
want them to become independent, but on the other hand it is hard to see
that they can exist without you.
My friend and colleague
Cathy Casper wrote a couple of little “exposes” on two events that
touched us both deeply and I will cite little excerpts here. The first
event was the tragic end of the Min Pin “Crazy Ruby”. I actually
remember Ruby from the day all the 300 dogs came to us. She was one of
the first ones into a crate, because she was labeled “biter” and nobody
could really touch her. There was a big red sign on her crate and only
the shift coordinators were supposed to care for her. I felt sorry for
the poor thing that was cowering in the back of her crate and was never
afraid to open the door and clean out her crate or give her fresh water.
She would observe me anxiously, but she was just as afraid of me as I
may have been of her. I felt by showing her unconditional love and
showing that nobody will hurt her anymore she would finally come around.
Sadly, Ruby was never able to overcome her fears and mistrust. Even
when she moved into a bigger run with a friend, she would always
mistrust those big, two legged-dogs. The saddest part of this story is
that a very good soul had finally decided to take Ruby into her home and
give her as much space and time as she needed to at least get her out
of the stressful shelter environment. Right then, however, fate struck
another blow to her and her cancer that had been treated for a while
exploded. Ruby Min Pin passed away. Here is what Cathy wrote:
“Ruby Min Pin died yesterday quietly!
Ruby
Min Pin had the best months of her life at the end. Ruby had been
rescued in April from horrible living conditions at a puppy mill. Alas,
we did not rescue her soon enough as she did not live a year after her
rescue. However, it was the best 9 months of her life.
Ruby
Min Pin was found in a wooden crate with a lid on it. She was living in
her own filth. She had been bitten by a snake and the wound had become
infected. She had not been treated. Ruby Min Pin was rescued that day,
April 13, 2005. Her face was in horrible condition. Skin grafts had to
be done to repair her face. She did not trust a human soul. She bit
anyone who tried to touch her. Finally, she healed well enough to be
placed in a 10x10 kennel with her sister, Tannis. It was the best life
that she had known for years.
In the fall, Ruby Min Pin
was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor on her ear canal. It was the ear on
the side of her head where she had been snake bitten. She underwent
chemotherapy. A kind soul offered a warm, safe, cuddly, quiet place for
Ruby to live out the rest of her life. Today, January 20, 2006, Ruby
took a turn for the worse and had to be transported from Dunn, NC to
Cary, NC to the kind veterinarian who was treating Ruby. She will
probably not live the weekend.
The next female dog who
comes to live in my home, even if it is years from now, will be named
Ruby. The next male dog who comes to live in my home will be named
Reuben. Although I was never able to hold Ruby in a loving way, and she
never really trusted me, and she spent most of her time pacing, I loved
Ruby Min Pin, lovingly called Crazy Ruby. After Ruby's history, she had
earned the right to be crazy. She is a poster child for puppy mills and
the horror that happens to the dogs who are unfortunate enough to live
there. She was underfed and over bred. But, that changed when she came
to us. It just wasn't soon enough.
Ruby Min Pin will be in
heaven where serpents of any form can no longer harm her. She can sleep
on a cloud and will always have the best dog food. I hope to one day
see Ruby Min Pin again. I have been honored to have known her.”
The
second event is the “Mass Exodus” of 12 dogs on a cross country trip in
a minivan from NC to Phoenix AZ for some and Glendale, CA for the rest.
It was such a huge enterprise that I wished I could be part of it, but
on the other hand it seemed like a horror to have to do this. In any
event, it wasn’t easy for those of us who stayed behind. Most of these
dogs were labeled “hard to place” either because they had issues with
certain people or issues with other dogs. I felt privileged to be one of
the people that our “Alpha” boxer Maximus would let in his kennel and
plant wet kisses on. Sometimes it was hard to believe it was the same
dog, when he charged the fence as somebody walked by he wasn’t quite as
equally fond of. The same was true for Vic He was the sweetest dog –
with people! But show him another dog and he would turn into a flesh
eating monster. What happened to these dogs in their life before they
were rescued? Again, I want to cite Cathy, who summed up her experience
so beautifully and who speaks from my heart, as well:
“For the love of Vic and Max
When
I began volunteering at the HOH, I knew nothing about Boxers. Now, I
feel I know everything. A lot of my knowledge comes from Vic and Max,
both of whom I have provided care since June, 2005. I remember both of
them from the early days. Vic was labeled dog aggressive from the
beginning for good reason. Max’s label of human aggressive came later.
None the less, they were our resident bad guys.
A lot of
energy was put into maintaining Vic and Max. Protocols for their
exercise were established because they were so challenging to handle.
Muzzles, gloves, specific leashes were utilized. Katy and I developed
these protocols and strictly implemented them on our watch... It isn’t
what we wanted. It is what became necessary.
Today,
February 17, 2006, Vic and Max will began their journey to sanctuary.
They will live out their lives in a place that will accommodate them. It
is my loss, but their gain. I will miss them as though they were my
children going off to college. I know this is best for them, but there
is a chasm left in my heart. I have cared for these dogs since June of
2005 and they have become a part of my pack. I send them off with a hug
and a kiss and a part of my heart. I do not now, nor ever have felt that
their aggressive tendencies were their own doing. I felt it was a
breeding warp, which raises its ugly head in puppy mills. Barbara
Woodley, you are responsible.
This is something no person,
place or entity can take away from me. There are the loving kisses
given to me every day I have spent at the HOH, from Vic and Max. Those
mean old Boxers who were notorious for eating others up if you got in
their way, gave me nothing but affection. Both would kiss my mouth
through their kennels. Both would play with me when I went inside their
kennels, or play with me whenever they were exercised outside their
kennels. They are leaving us for a better life and my heart is sad and
heavy for that, but, like a mother sending their child to college for
the first time, I am jubilant and heartbroken at the same time.
I
will never see them again. Both dogs took a huge chunk of my heart and
my life for the past six months. I will never forget them. I hope to see
them again on our journey to another life experience. I love Max and
Vic. I am a better person for having known them. I hope I have been,
along with others, a positive influence in their otherwise pitiful
lives. The future is theirs. Today, I would put my life and the lives of
my children in their paws. I would be safe. I never feared being alone
at the HOH as long as they were there. I don’t know if I will have that
feeling of confidence there again. My hat goes off to them. Go forward,
noble dogs. Live a great life. Never forget those who saved you from
your miserable life.
They are going to Hollywood. They are going to be big stars. And, we all knew them at the genesis of their true lives.
Go forward, you two princes of this rescue. You deserve it. “
So as this experience draws to a close, what do I take away from it?
That time heals all wounds
-.....
well, at least the physical ones. It is amazing what a little good food
and care can do. The transformation in those poor little creatures was
amazing. The emotional scarring is another thing. Those sit deeper. Some
of the dogs responded to a little kindness immediately, others took
longer to start to trust us. Some, even though they started to trust us,
let us pet them and hold them would still crouch down when you
approached or reached out to touch them. It would break my heart every
time. And then again there were a few that wanted to be loved, but just
couldn't jump over their own shadow and would never let us approach
them. This made it very hard to love them but we did nevertheless, in
hopes we could change their mind. That abused animals react in quite the
same manner as abused humans do -...... We tend to think that after
escaping hell, the rescued would embrace their new life and their
rescuers. But some still "love" their abusers. Everyday THAT woman
exercised her visitation rights we watched in utter horrified amazement
that some of the dogs, particularly those that would not be approachable
by us, came running to her, wagging their tails. Complicated
psychological issues those are.
That you can become quite desensitized to doggie pee and poop.
-.....In
the beginning it was quite horrific as we had to crate dogs at night.
They didn't know not to poop in their crates and were an utter mess in
the morning, as were the crates. We had paper suits to wear over our
clothes, exam gloves for the hands. Some of us even wore masks over
their noses and mouths, because, frankly it just made you gag. I gave up
on the paper suit when the NC summer started - it was just too hot!
Next the gloves came off - the hands were sweating in them and
"pruning". That is such an "icky" feeling, what are soap and water for
anyway! Now, after a year, very little makes me gag! Hands are washed
pretty much only if you actually touch "the matter" or right before
eating.
That scooping poop can be therapeutic.
-....
well ... I knew that already from volunteering at Best Friends. And, of
course, it's not just the actual scooping, but also the change you see
in the animals. The unconditional love you receive back. I am still
utterly amazed how some of those animals can even begin to trust into a
human being again. The few times I couldn't make it to the shelter I
felt empty and really missed my weekly dose of wet nosed kisses.
That I hate people ... well ... not really ....
-......
you know this already, I've had a blog on it a while back. But really,
when I think about it. I don't even hate THAT woman. I hate what she did
to the dogs, I hated when she came in and picked them up by one leg, I
hated when she came in and shoved them back into their kennel when they
came running to her, wagging their tails, I hate that she is not the
only person out there like this. I even had to turn away, go to a
different part of the building so as to not lose my temper and
jeopardize the case. All of you who know me that it take a lot for me to
lose my temper - she didn't have to do much. Just a little shove of the
hand did it for me. Oh how badly I wanted to make some sarcastic
remarks when she accused us of not treating "her" dogs right, of abusing
them. Saying that they had air conditioned runs at her property but we
let them suffer in the heat without water. I had to bite my tongue,
believe you me! But confusingly enough, I can't hate her. I have thought
about this a lot and wondered what is wrong with me because all I feel
about her is indifference. I guess it is because hate is too strong an
emotion for me. Not that I'm not emotionally involved in this case,
obviously I am. But I do not want to be emotionally involved with THAT
woman. Does that make sense? She just doesn't deserve it. It doesn't
matter to me what happens to her, other than her punishment for this and
that I don't want her to be able to have any animals ever again. Does
that make me a bad person? Maybe, but after all this (and I am told I
haven't even seen the worst video footage yet) - there is nothing left
in me towards her but emptiness. On the other hand, there is this
little part of me that almost feels sorry for her, because seeing as how
erratic she behaved I can't but conclude that she is mentally ill.
Either that or she would have to be really conniving and evil, which I
don't think she is smart enough for. But even mental illness, to me, is
no excuse for what she did. Still - astonishingly..... no hate felt
here! Just emptiness when I think about her.
That I can do this
-.....
whether I'll have my own place or not, I can do this. My own place -
even with little or no money it is possible to run an operation like
this and give excellent animal care. Anytime I go to Best Friends it is a
little daunting to me, because they run such an excellent operation. I
think it is the perfectionist in me. I want everything perfect
immediately. But I can have a small facility, and I don't have to be
that perfect at first. I can start running it and realize myself how it
works best for me and then make it perfect. If my own place is not meant
for me, I'm still doing this. This is what I want to do for the rest of
my life. I have done some networking by working for ALDF, it is an
excellent bullet point on my resume. Quite sadly, actually, after all I
have done so far, it is almost the only one that matters anymore for my
future. I know I won't get rich doing it, but it will enrich my soul. As
long as it pays enough for me to pay my bills (and maybe a few extras)
so that I don't have to work a second job for the rest of my life, it
will be like heaven. I know burnout is high in this field, but I think
I'll be able to work through it. There are so many workshops I want to
attend, so much more I want to learn about animals and their care.
That you can name them, get attached to them and still be able to let go.
-.......
In the beginning I didn't want to know any names. I was afraid I would
want to "take them all home" if I got too close, too attached. And it
was easy not to - there were soooooo many of them. Who could remember
them all? But bonding became inevitable. Especially towards the end, as
there were less and less animals to take care of. We got to know them
all intimately, all the little quirks, their likes and dislikes. Still,
amazingly there is only one dog I have wanted to take home, and only now
- Ginger. But as of yet, I can't. Yes, it does hurt, when they leave.
It is a bittersweet sensation, like when children go off to college. You
want them to get out, you're even glad they are -but they leave a
terrible void. If only I could keep getting updates from them, to see
how they are doing now. Some of them we do, and it's so wonderful to
hear.
I cried when Max and Vic left, I'm quite sure I'll
cry when I go home for the last time and leave Ginger behind. The last
ones I mentioned from after the move are obviously the ones I got most
attached to. None as much as Ginger recently. If I had a house I would
make it work with the cats. But the one-bedroom apt is just not
conducive. Will I ever find out how all my "kids" are doing? I sure hope
so, but I can't be sure. It saddens me deeply. But at the same time I
am glad because I know I have been part of something important,
something very beautiful. All these dogs have a new lease on life. They
are now doing better than they have ever done in their life and it will
be paradise for them once they find their own family. That's why I am
happy. I know they are going to good places and I can hope that maybe
some of them will remember me in a little tiny part in their heart.
Random
kids I remember: Walter, of course, the very skinny, very cuddly
Boston. All he ever wanted to do was snuggle in your lap and sleep.
(I've seen him a few times since then - he's not skinny anymore, but
still a character). During the mass-exodus I doggie-sat Walter and his
buddy Zeke at the shelter while his foster Mom made the trip. While I
couldn’t remember Zeke from the beginning we had a wonderful for the few
days I had them back. There were the three Boxer pups, maybe 6 months
old. They usually had the run of the whole place. Just because they were
pretty big and needed to get some of that energy out. I remember
thinking how beautiful they looked, how well built and how gorgeous to
see the coordination of their muscles when they darted along. I'd never
really been exposed to Boston Terriers. Even didn't like dogs with the
"punched-in noses". But the woman's favorites seem to have been Bostons.
And I've grown somewhat fond of them. Their little "Geiger-counter"
noises when they rummage around, too funny! There was the Boston Terrier
Buster. A kind soul bought him his own doggie pillow and we put his
name on it and made sure it would be returned to him after the wash.
The
pillow had a “sheepskin” side and a blue side. Buster’s favorite was
the blue side, which had to face up in his crate! There was the Boston
Terrier Tess, who had such severe separation anxiety that while in her
foster home, she moved her crate (while being in it) through the whole
room. She had to be returned to the shelter and now has a home where
somebody is home all day and can work with her. There was the Boston
Terrier Charlie, which for a short period of time had lost his identity.
The ID tag had come off and nobody was quite sure who the little bugger
was. By the process of elimination it was figured out and ironically he
was the first dog ever to come off the property – V1. Henceforth his
aka became “Mr. X”. There was the day the two mamas came in with their
newborn litters. One little, very friendly mama, Petunia, with one
single pup - Pearl. And the other, skittish and fearful one, Ruby with
her brood.
The babies were so little, they could fit in the palm of my
hand. They still had their eyes closed. But oh my, how quickly they
grew. Soon you couldn't even get in their pen, because you literally
would have puppies hanging from your pants legs and shoe ties. Like a
bunch of piranhas, they would gauge your hand and arms to the bone, if
you lowered them to their level. Energetic little buggers! There was
"Old Man" the blind yorkie and his buddy, who were inseparable. There
was peanut the min pin, and the other little min pin whose marking
looked like a Mickey mouse on her back (gotta find that picture). There
were Chyna and Dollie, the two red min pins who were as wide as they
were tall. There was Willie the Dachshund who loved, I mean lovvvvvved
the squeaky toys. There were, of course, the pugs, with their funny
noises - Giggles, who knew how to work it so she would be picked up most
and Ted (for Ted Kennedy, an all grey pug, who looked just like his
namesake). There was the huge Boston, Wild Child, who was aptly named.
Then came the move to the warehouse and the whole big lot of them and
they do blur together with a few exceptions. Crazy min-pin Ruby, who was
labeled a biter from the beginning. She just cowered in the back of her
crate and I never had any problems cleaning her up or feeding her.
Later Ruby was partnered with Tannis, who was also shy, but not a fear
biter. Both dogs improved from the company, Tannis more so than Ruby and
when she passed away, Tannis was truly sad and obviously missed her
mate. There was scratchy-doo, Sonya, a Jack Russell with a terrible skin
condition. She was one of the first ones into a crate that day. She
also wasn't very friendly at first - nobody blamed her. She just wanted
to be left alone. As I looked at her snoozing in her crate all I could
say to her was "You're ok now, nobody is ever going to hurt you again!”
Later, Sonya lived with Lita (Maggie), who was returned by her family,
because she couldn’t get along with the kids. My wrestling fan friends
will recognize the name sake. Of course, we had to include her! Sonya
actually seemed to benefit from having a kennel-mate and for the first
time I was able to approach her, touch her and leave her, without being
chased out of the kennel! There was a Malamute - a gorgeous dog,
friendly as can be. Picture a Husky, but much bigger, like a wolf
almost, just beautiful. There was Tiny the Boxer. The granddaddy of them
all. We always needed two people to enter his kennel. Not because he
was aggressive, but because he wanted out and wanted to run and he was
so strong there was nothing holding him back if he pushed past you.
There was Mudflap, the brown and white boxer with the unusual markings.
There were Barbie and Susie the two Boxers whose run was one of those
you couldn't help but gagging, always, without fail, the worst of all.
There was another Boxer, Wendy, who was returned because she would
always bolt out of the house and was also aggressive towards the cat.
She was very, very shy but it didn’t take long and she found a new home
with another Boxer and is coming out of her shell. There was the Jack
Russell puppy Jackson. He was one of the puppies born in our care (mom
was already pregnant when we got her). He was high-energy, typical for
his breed and we were glad when he found a home where he can run around
outside all day and get all that energy out! There was the older Boston
Terrier Bruce was going blind from cataracts. We had him from the
beginning, with the first batch of 30. A kind soul offered to pay for
his surgery, and even though he managed and adjusted to losing his
vision, he is much better off now and a happy camper with a newfound
outlook on life. There was the little tiny min-pin Pete. He had lost all
of his teeth and was so nervous we couldn’t put any weight on him. In
the winter time we had to bundle him up because he didn’t have enough
body fat to keep him warm. There was Kate the English Bulldog, who
wanted to be a lapdog and adopted a kiddiepool as her bed. There was
Sugar, the Boston Terrier/Chihuahua Mix, was one of those who would bark
and bark and bark and come nipping at your heels if you turned your
back, but still "loved" her abuser. There was Sweetpea who adopted one
of the red chairs as her primary sitting spot. Then as the majority had
left, we moved to the smaller room. Right before that there was the
incident when Perry, the min-pin started howling at...... who knows at
what?! Point is – the whole room joined in - it was very animalistic. I
felt transported back to the time we went to Wolfhaven and tried to
animate the pack to join into our howl! This time I joined the HOH-Pack
with my best howl! Oh yes, Perry, the min pin who had to have so many
teeth pulled that he looked like he had a permanent grin. After the move
there was the Boxer Maximus, our Alpha male, who picked "his" people
very carefully. I was one of the lucky ones he just couldn't give enough
slobbery kisses to. But beware if he didn't like you - he was ready to
kill! I was never afraid in the building alone at night, because I knew I
could just go into Max's Kennel and he would protect me. There was the
Boxer Vic, the second in command, who was friendly enough with people.
But boy, don't show him another dog or his evil twin would come out.
There was Christopher the beautiful Jack Russell who wanted so much to
be loved but would run away every time I tried to touch him. There was
the Jack Russell Steve(-o)
who had to be in a run with a roof, because
he knew how to climb. Once he got restricted in that way he would stick
his nose out the fence and sit like that for hours, very pathetically
pleading to get out. There was the Boston Terrier Liza, who like Sugar
tried to convince us that she was quite evil, but whose game of "I have
the kong and you can't have it" became more and more intricate. There
was the Boston Terrier Thelma, who I had the pleasure of flying to
Detroit, together with Petunia. In her run she never let me touch her,
but in the airport she hung n to us catlike, with her claws, terrified.
There was the Boston Terrier Johnny who loved his toys and who lived in
his alien pod. Anything you have lost in this world..... just check his
pod, I'm sure it is in there. There was the Boxer Smarty, our "Junkyard"
dog, who always slept on top of his crate instead of in it.
Problem
Child, because he wouldn't gain any weight, due to an untreated
irritable bowel syndrome. With a strict diet and medication that made
him pee on end he finally put on two pounds and now has found a home.
I'm told he has not once peed in the house yet! There was the Boston
Terrier "Bubba", our funny little old man. He preferred his food off the
floor. Also he was quite the escape artist, every time we turned around
he would have bent up the fence and slipped out. Just recently I have
seen this little "rotund" pup trying to climb the fence that we had
enforced with x-pen pieces. There were the min-pins Rodney and Lucas,
little "round" Lucas, who didn't know to eat anywhere but in his crate
(where we HAD to feed him because he would fight with Rodney over it).
There was the boxer Ethyl with the under bite, who loved to wrestle.
There was our beautiful Rottie "Rock" who was later renamed. He just
joined us after Max had left, because I am told he was the most vicious
beast on the property the day he was seized, only to be overcome with a
tranquilizer dart.
He was aptly renamed "Sirius (Black)" and now thinks
he is a lapdog. The other dog named influenced by Harry Potter was
Clyde. He was boarded at a doggie day care so I don’t have any funny
stories to tell. He was one of the ones that took the legendary road
trip to Phoenix, so I met him right before he left. He was renamed Dobby
– and I think you will understand why once you look at this picture. At
the very end here I was re-introduced to Cliff, a Jack Russell terrier I
couldn’t remember. He was also boarded at the doggie day care and not
at the shelter. I had the honor of delivering him to his new family in
Arizona the other day. He was a very sweet little boy the whole way and
to see the joy in those people’s eyes made the whole tiring trip
worthwhile. Honestly, I didn’t think I would remember that many. I am
amazed! And as I sit here trying to get this all on paper, looking at
pictures, the “people” just keep coming back to me! Here are some
honorable mentions, who I remember, but don’t remember any particular
incidences about: min pin Gabe, Boston Terriers Tinkerbell, Gidget, Wink
and Teddy, min pin Joey, Dachshund Gracie and Welsh Corgy Jimmy. And
last but not least, there is the Chow-Mix Ginger. "my" girl. Quite shy
in the beginning, she is still very submissive, but now follows me with
her eyes wherever I go. Her little tail starts wagging every time I
move. She loves to hang out with me on the sofa in the break room. Did I
mention she caught one of the rats the other day? If she could only get
along with other dogs and with cats.
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