Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, we fostered a mom and her litter of puppies.
http://fosterpuppies-sue.blogspot.com/

I say 'we', but it was really me. It was my idea, I did all the hard work and actually, I got all the credit. So karmically, it all works out. We also ended up with one of the pups. That's made this year largely about raising one little brown puppy. Of course, lots of other things happened along the way.

But.... we're at it again. Or should I say, I'm at it again. We have another litter. This time, the mom is a doxie mix - only about 15 pounds and there are only 7 puppies. (In case you haven't taken the time to read the other blog, I'll give you the short version: German Short Hair Pointer (big hunting dog) and 11 puppies).

This time around, things are so much easier. For one thing, the poop is much smaller. That means less to clean up. That means the pups can actually have a den inside of a big crate. So they sleep in the crate/den and don't poop in their den! So awesome, I can't even tell you. Each time I walk downstairs, I'm greeted with happy, waggy puppies who have not just walked through their poop.

And this time around, all of the puppies look unique. With the last litter, every single one of them was brown and basically the same size. The only 2 that I could really tell apart from the rest was the runt (Einstein) and the biggest (Chief who now lives with us). These current puppies look different so I can start to see their different personalities.

Black Betty - she's the biggest female and feisty. She doesn't eat a ton, but tries to pick on everyone. And she stays awake longer than anyone else. She's all black, with brown feet. Very soft and silky. But lots of attitude.

Gizmo - the biggest male is tri colored and keeps up with his huge sister, but just can't do it. He's goofy and prances when he walks.

Stripe - the tri-colored female with a white stripe down her face is pretty even. She hangs with the big guys, or goes back to sleep quickly with the littles.

These big 3 were all just 1 pound 3 ounces, 1 pound 4.5 ounces and 1 pound 9 ounces at the last weigh-in. Big by comparison to their litter mates, but at the same age, the other litter was 4 or 5 pounds at this age. Can you begin to appreciate the difference?

Chocolate is a beautiful creamy light brown colored puppy. She has a a white blaze on her face and a white tip on her tail. She likes to play, but is still just trying to eat and sleep.

Sandy - loves loves loves to eat! This little male eats, poops, eats, sleeps, eats. That's it. He has ears like his mom which means that he will eventually look like the Flying Nun.

Rudy is a carbon copy of his big sister - black body with brown feet. He was only 11.5 ounces when he first came to us, but now, he is a whopping 1 whole pound! He's learning to pick on everyone too. But is really too small to have much impact.

Pippy is the runt. She's dark brown with a white stripe on her nose and is still only 12.5 ounces. She eats slow and steady, then heads back to the comfort of the den to conserve her energy for the next meal. If one of her bigger sibs picks on her, I'm right there to stop it. She needs all the help she can get!






Such a different experience from last time. I love it, of course. These little guys have no idea how close they came to not making it. And that's just the way I like it.

The advantage of Brown Dogs

You can't see the mud spattered on them!!!

All this rain produces lots and lots of mud. And dogs need their exercise. How can one stop the joy of splashing through the puddles, kicking up huge splotches of mud? We humans slog along in our sensible rain boots, trying to keep them on our feet. While our dogs just do what dogs do - run and play and wallow and savor the moment.

As always, we could learn a little something.

The Unexpected

I've been going about my business, shuttling kids to and from sports events, walking the dogs, accommodating the holidays. I paused for a moment during Thanksgiving to remember that Floyd, our 14 year old Malamute had died at this time just last year. I buried my face in the closest thing I could get to his fur, a dog at the shelter. But it wasn't the same.

So I walked Charlie today, my usual route, a little later than normal. I saw an old friend walking her dog toward me. She has an easy black lab and has always been supportive about Charlie's leash reactivity. But as she got closer, and I said hi, I noticed that it wasn't Luke she was walking. And Lynn was crying.

We rushed our dogs into the dog park and shared a long hug. Luke had died over the weekend. He was 9, not old for a lab, but had had a seizure, then complications, then an inoperable tumor was discovered.

As Lynn told me about the details and processed it all over again, I thought about Floyd and Kiko and all the dogs who have shared my life. It's never easy to say good-bye.

We talked about other things and caught up on life. Then we leashed our dogs and walked.

Finally, it was time to get on with life and start our separate days. Before we could even hug and I could repeat my condolences, we were both in tears again. Lynn said that one day, she'll be ready for another dog. She hasn't been without a dog in 22 years. She said, "I'll do it all over again, because I'm crazy." But really, she'll do it again, like we all will because it's necessary and right. For us animal lovers, a walk downtown just isn't right without a dog at our side. An empty lap is just empty without a cat to curl up in it.

The unexpected, gone-too-soon, furry friends who have left us before we're ready, know that they make room, not for their replacement, but rather for the next one to complete us.

No more puppies

And now all of the puppies are gone. I'd like to report that they'd all been adopted. But no. They all died.

It was horrible. It was heart breaking. All of us learned a few things about life and death.

A few days after the first puppy died, the others stopped nursing. So I fed them by hand and Milly cleaned up after them. I brought them to the vet and everyone seemed hopeful. 24 hours later, I had one of them euthanized. It followed the same pattern: crying, wandering around, then listless and not swallowing anything. The other 2 followed quickly after.

In each case, I had so much hope that the remaining puppies would make it. I'd look at how well they were eating, or how much they were moving around and will them to be ok.

Gordon was affected the most. The boys hadn't been that involved with the puppy care. The puppies weren't really playing or interacting with people that much, so there wasn't much for the boys to do. But when I told Gordon that the first puppy died, he hung his head, long hair shielding his eyes, and sobbed for 2 hours. No matter what I said, or did, he cried. So we sat together feeling how unfair life can be sometimes. And with each subsequent death, he cried just as hard.

After it was over and a few days had passed, he was able to talk about how this affected him. He just said that it was so unfair. These puppies didn't get a chance to experience life. What was the point.

I think that this was Gordon's introduction to how little control we really have over the universe. He lives a pretty good life. And he's optimistic. If something doesn't go the way he planned it, he spins it, so that it appears to be an advantage for him. I like this about him. He makes things happen and he makes the things that happen to him work his way.

But there was no way to spin dead puppies. There was no way to explain why this happened.

Dylan was more philosophical about it. He talked to me about the polar opposites of doing everything possible to keep an animal alive and not even trying. He experienced first-hand what the animal rescue/shelter world has grappled with forever. After processing the possibilities, he said that we have a responsibility to the animals in our care to do everything we can for them until it just doesn't make sense anymore. I asked how he'd know when the animal had reached the end. He said that if the animal were in pain and we couldn't help it, or if the animal wasn't able to eat or drink on its own, those would be the signs.

I'd like to say that I'll never put us through the possibility of this happening again - there are very few things more terrible than dead puppies. But I know that's not true. I'll grab the next litter that comes along and give those puppies a chance. I'll prove that life can be fair and that we don't have to make hard choices.

Because I think that what I learned from this is that when faced with really terrible odds, I can still hope.

This week in review

My son has to do a book report - on a biography. As we browsed that section at the library, my eye caught all kinds of animal lovers' books. I thought Gary Paulsen's account of life with sled dogs would be fun for Gordon to read. But he chose Zebulon Pike. Who the heck???? I read about how a man's relationship with his dog changed from one of work to one of companionship; Gordon learned about some dude 'discovering' and mapping and blahhhhh.

Of course, I knew from the very first page that the man would outlive the dog. I knew that not all of the dog's puppies would live. I knew that there would be some terrible event in which the dog saved the man's life. I knew that the dog would have human qualities and a connection to this man like no other. I knew all of these things would make me cry. But I read it anyway. Maybe that's WHY I read it.

And then one of our puppies died and I had to cry all over again. Only this time, I was actively involved, instead of just reading about what had happened to someone else.

The male puppy, Brown Necklace Boy, started to dwindle. I woke up in the middle of the night because something just wasn't right. He was crying, wailing, like he was hungry and in pain. He wouldn't nurse. Milly tried to stimulate him, but he wouldn't. He quieted when I held him in the crook of my arm. Or when he could wedge himself between his sisters. When I took him (and the rest of them) to the vet, they couldn't really find anything wrong. He wasn't the runt, he wasn't dehydrated, they were really encouraged when he pooped all over my hand. So I left with instructions to feed him milk replacer, alternating with diluted Karo syrup. That seemed to work. I thought if I could get him to eat something, he might want to nurse again. When I filled his mouth, he'd get his tongue working. I was hopeful.

I went to bed early that night to try to catch up on sleep, but woke at 1:30 to find my little pup in some distress. He wouldn't swallow anything; he just wailed with his mouth open. Milly and I tried everything. Toward the end, she pulled him out of my arms and nestled him between her paws. She put her head on his back, to protect him? to tell me it was over? I'm not sure. Finally, his little mouth opened and no sound came out. Milly and I waited for the light, hoping and hoping.

I made some chicken for her and some coffee for me. While she ate, I took all the pups out of the box, changed the bedding and only returned 3 of them. She searched for a bit, but I think she knew.

I wrapped Little Necklace Boy in a towel and cried some more.

Puppy Fading Syndrome? I know that every living creature has its path in this world. And I know that I can't interfere with it.

From Gary Paulsen's "Puppies, Dogs, and Blue Northers: Reflections on being raised by a pack of sled dogs": ...and I hoped wherever dogs go she would find a lot of good meat and fat and now and then a run.

Adopt a shelter dog!

The Petaluma Animal Shelter had an offsite adoption event yesterday. They loaded up the Cuddle Shuttle, parked in the lot near PetCo and got lots of attention. It's a great way to bring the animals to the community. We did a bunch of adoptions.

But it's hard to bring the big dogs. They really need one volunteer to hang out with that one dog all day long. I was determined to give at least one dog this opportunity.

Who to choose? There are so many good dogs at the shelter right now. So I decided to give Hunter a chance. He's a shepherd mix. He can be a little shy with men. We're a perfect match! I'm a little shy with people...

As I was gearing up for the adoption event, I had to talk myself into being outgoing and upbeat and in a marketing mode. That's not easy for me. I'm not a small-talk kind of person. I don't know what the weather is going to do and I don't really care. I can't talk about light issues. But this day, I could hide behind the glorious Hunter! I could just be there, trying to find him his forever home.

And that's how he must feel every time someone walks toward his kennel at the shelter. He has to psych himself up to be jovial and cute and cuddly looking. Because he knows that's how he's going to get adopted. But when you've been in the shelter for more than a month, it's hard to keep your public face on all the time. So sometimes, he doesn't come to the front of the kennel. And sometimes, he just retreats and waits for a familiar face. Because that's easier.

But Hunter was in his element! He pranced around, walking up to perfect strangers with strange dogs, accepting treats and doing his tricks. Every one of us was a little shocked and very impressed.

I'd thought Hunter would last an hour or so, but he spent the whole day with the adoption group! Go Hunter!!!

But while many people greeted Hunter and commented about him, no one filled out an application form. Hunter returned to his kennel at the shelter and settled in.

Tomorrow, I'll take him for a walk and bring him into the Training Center for a little quiet time. I'll remind him about all of the people he met the other day and how his forever home is out there, waiting. We just have to find it.

End of the Week

I'm tired and it's Friday. The beginning of the weekend. The end of the work week. Unfortunately, for me, my work week is 7 days long. I'm not complaining, just commenting.

Actually, I complained aloud a few minutes ago, "I just don't have time to do everything I want to!"

Knitting. I have 6 or 7 projects going at the moment. One is portable and current. 2 are difficult lace patterns that require reading the pattern, counting and keeping close track of what I'm doing. Another is a baby blanket for perhaps a baby that I know will be born in November. But more likely for his child to be born many years from now. The others are stored in bags, shoved on a shelf here or there, long given up on.

And all I want to do is start a new project! There's this really cool autumn leaf wreath that my mother-in-law would love. Dare I start it? Dare I not?

What about Christmas presents that I should be working on right this very minute?

Reading. 3 or 4 books have places marked where I left off. They're strategically scattered around the house so that I'm never more than a few steps away from a written word. But do I have time to read? Not really.

Humans. I have phone messages from friends to return. The boys have sports stuff all weekend. I should really insist that we clean up the backyard, as a family, all together in misery, doing chores.

Dogs. Chief had a playdate today. That was great. He was gone all afternoon. I got to walk Charlie alone, then Charlie got to bask in the wonderfulness of being an only dog.

My foster dog mom is doing very well. She's a good mom, taking care of everything those puppies need. They're a week old now, moving around a little more, but still eyes closed and ears closed and just concerned about where their mom is. So I feed Milly and I let her outside and I change her bedding. Then we sit together and just relax in some quiet time.

I transported a 10 week old Pit Bull puppy today to her new foster home. She has injuries from a fight she was in. Of course she was not the instigator. I don't have many details, but the cruelty of some humans is beyond belief. There's a special place in hell for those who did this to her. She's resilient and wagging her tail and just happy to be out of that situation. Lucky. So many others are suffering tonight.

And that's why I'm tired. There's just so much to be done. But I guess we all have to do our small part and each of those small pieces adds up to a greater good. And we each have our limits.

I hope tomorrow is a cool autumn day so that we can all take some time to breath in the fresh air and let our faces soak up some warmth from the sun.