La Moretta

Obama's dog

So, it appears that the Obamas have adopted a 6-month-old Portuguese water dog. There is going to be a lot of hubbub among the animal rescue community because they got a dog that was purebred and not from a shelter breeder. I am in the minority among my peers in this -- I don't think that there is anything wrong with families with allergies going for a "hypoallergenic" dog. They shouldn't be deprived of the opportunity to own a pet because of that. Also, our group has a lot of returns of dogs due to allergies, so I would rather that they not attempt to take a regular dog and fail -- it's very hard on all involved, including the animal.

Right now it looks like the dog was a gift from Teddy Kennedy, who, as we all know, is the ultimate limousine liberal (one need only look at the Kennedys' shameful opposition to wind farms near Cape Cod to see how he operates when issues touch his personal life) and doesn't have any qualms about purchasing dogs from a breeder. Kennedy got them out of a difficult situation by giving them the dog as a gift, and I believe someone said that the original owner didn't want the puppy any more.

I'm not sure that I buy that. Six months is often the age that the dog goes from breeder to owner, so I think that coincidence of timing is a little odd. I can see this happening at 8 or 9 months, which is the age when puppies come back to us all the time -- even with neutered animals, adolescence is a trying time -- the puppies are clumsy, all arms and legs, high-energy, and they seem to unlearn the commands they were acing a few months ago in puppy kindergarten.

I wish the Obamas had been more forthright and said that they would like to adopt a dog from a shelter, but that due to allergies, they needed to get a hypoallergenic breed, period.

It's not the people with allergies who are creating the dog overpopulation problem, after all. It's irresponsible people who breed dogs without care, don't alter their pets, or who abandon their responsibilities because they have become tiresome.

Sometimes everything makes sense

It's so important to understand how to read dogs. This is a picture taken of Chowder before we got him, on the first day he was taken into rescue. There was something about the picture that resonated with me. His expression was ... I didn't know, but it called to me.

 

It was only later that I realized that he was absolutely terrified.

Since then I have always taken great care to evaluate the "scary dogs" using what I had learned from Chowder. I think it has made me the unlikely champion of more than a few tough-looking dogs.

I was lucky enough to see one of those bad-ass dogs tonight. He is a big black lab/Rottie mix with icy amber eyes and enormous fangs (seriously). Everyone was afraid of him, but when I met him, I knew. Sure enough, when I saw him at his adopter's house, he was a big baby who couldn't get enough attention and who was affably allowing himself to be ordered around by a toothless 6-pound Papillon.

I hope all of you get a chance to see this kind of payoff in your acts of charity. If you don't, take a moment to remind yourself, or even imagine how something you did has made someone (human or animal) have a better life. It feels great.

Time-sensitive about Abe

The Hagerstown news station did an update on Abe, now named Sarge. These URLS don't typically last long, so check it out while you can.

http://your4state.com/content/fulltext/?cid=52181

The woman with the red shirt and black hat at the end is my colleague Susan. I have to tell you I was misty-eyed watching this.

Betty

     

In the early days of our rescue group, we were contacted by a rural shelter about taking some dogs from them.  They sent us an email saying they had a very nice 3-year-old beagle female whose foot got caught in a trap and who might be pregnant. We didn't have any suitable fosters, so we said, sorry.  The next week we got another request about the female, but we still didn't have any fosters who could take this dog, so again we had to say no. Finally, a few weeks later, we got a third email, written by someone at the shelter we hadn't dealt with before and who clearly didn't know we had been asked to take this dog before.  Her email said, "Maybe you could take the pregnant beagle. She's very nice even though her flatten foot might fall off." The email's simplicity and lack of guile were evident, and its description of the dog's plight hit us like a punch to the gut.

I sent the email to Ken as an FYI. He woke up in the middle of the night and asked me, "What are we going to do about that dog?" Susan and I conferred and we agreed to figure something out. The little beagle was brown and cute in an undistinguished way, so we called her Betty after apple brown Betty. She stayed at our place for a few days so we could get her initial vetting done. Our city vet advised us to spay her even though she was visibly pregnant and they'd remove the foot at the same time. We simply couldn't do it. We didn't get into rescue to knowingly abort puppies who would have been alive and nearly viable. Also, no matter what they tell you, terminating a late-term pregnancy can really mess up the mother dog's head. They cry, and often assemble stuffed animals to act as surrogate babies -- it's heart-breaking. We couldn't imagine her waking up without her puppies or her foot. It was way too traumatic. We decided that in this case, nature won.

This decision caused some controversy with our vet, who accused us of not spaying the puppies because we thought we could make some money with them. (Not bloody likely -- we never made money on any dog we placed. It was always break even at best.) After that charge, we whisked Betty out to West Virginia and put her in the care of our vet there. It was then that we made our policy to look out for the interests of each dog on a case-by-case basis. In other words, regardless of pet overpopulation, if it wasn't a good move for the dog to be spayed, then she wasn't going to be spayed.

Everything ended very nicely for Betty -- she had a beautiful litter of puppies we called the Shamrocks, because they born near St. Patrick's day. Betty was one of the best mothers we have ever seen -- dutiful, protective and very diligent in instructing her puppies on how to behave. Her foot did fall off and Susan buried it in her backyard (she has a farm) in a ceremony that Betty attended. We had no problem placing the Shamrocks with some of our best adopters ever. One of the Shamrocks, Bernie (now Banjo, pictured below as a puppy) lives a few houses down from us. We sometimes hear him howling a greeting at our dogs when take them for a walk.

Like all mama dogs, Betty was placed well after her litter. We wanted only the best for this brave girl who inspired such ferocious loyalty in us. Betty was eventually adopted by a nurse who is so absolutely besotted by Betty that she has pictures of Betty all over her desk and her cell phone. When we went to do a follow-up visit to check on the adopter's newly-installed fence, Betty obligingly dropped into the grass in front of us and rolled around happily on her back, beagle-style. All was well.

   

Hope this is true

First, an anecdote: When I was a teen I went to Rehobeth Beach with my family, sister and a friend. My sister met some guy and introduced him to us. He was cute, if a bit inarticulate. I wasn't impressed. He invited us to a party that night with some friends. "They're all pagans," he warned. Hmm, I thought, maybe I misjudged this guy -- what a rather sophisticated way to describe your wild friends. So we went to the party, and I learned that "pagans" referred to The Pagans, a nationally-known biker gang. We cut the evening short. Good times.

But I digress.

Via Jezebel, here's some bikers who are fighting the good fight -- animal rescue, that is. I don't know if this is an elaborate hoax, but if so, I hope that life eventually imitates art because it would be a great idea.  http://www.rescueink.org/.

Interestingly, this is consistent with what we have noticed. I've met a lot of bikers and tough guys who were excellent pet owners --their dogs were vetted, very well-trained and spoiled rotten. (And you know what group is actually terrible? Vet techs. It's a very unstable "demographic" and they think they are experts because they administer shots or are in the room when the vet does the exam. We won't adopt out to them, or to groomers, many of whom don't seem to take their dogs to the vet at all. They are also a leading source of disinformation to our adopters.)

                         

Above: Eric and Batso, members of Rescue Ink. Eric owns min-pins, and Batso has a pit bull and an iguana.

It wouldn't be winter without a West Virginia Corgi

This year, our rescue work is winding down, although we find ourselves marketing the odd dog and dealing with a few returns of middle-aged dogs. Since we don't have fosters, I have been trying to make a case for shutting up shop entirely, but at the same time we have been inundated with dogs of people who can no longer afford them, and, strangely enough, a lot of people who can afford their dogs but no longer want them. (They don't say it, but I think it's their way of economizing.) 

Right now we are cross-posting (listing on Petfinder) a Pomeranian with Addison's Disease, and reluctantly placing a senior Chow with Cushing's disease via our organization after a volunteer twisted our arms. We also have one return, from a very wealthy family who decided that "they weren't dog people" after three years. (The dog, Charlotte, came back to us so unused to attention that she would automatically go sit in a far corner whenever she came in to her foster's house, because clearly that was where she was sent in her adoptive home.)

And then, of course, there are the dogs who just show up on very cold nights. They are normally smart young outdoor dogs who finally get their chance and look for someplace friendly and warm. Although we search and search, we never find their owners.

 

And that's the story with Zeb. He is ridiculous-looking and shameless. He showed up at a senior citizen's house and has refused to leave, but she is 82 and he is 1.5 years, meaning that this is not a good match. He also likes to clamber up into her lap for affection, and he's strong enough that he could break something.

Also, do you notice something about his legs? They are impossibly short. He weighs 60 pounds, but his weight is all in his torso.  In any case, the vet calls them West Virginia corgis -- mutts with outgoing personalities, long torsos, preposterously short legs and open faces. We have had one such dog, always a stray, every year since we started running a rescue.

 

 

 

When you can help a dog like this, all of your earlier crabbiness melts away. They are the best little/big mutts you'll ever encounter. Invariably when we place dogs like this their adopters refer other people to us and thank us profusely for giving them "the best dog ever."

 

There are a few country names for these dogs we encounter -- mush hound, which means a short, squat, ungracious-looking brown hound mix with little sophistication and a lot of enthusiasm, and a dirt road sport, which means a dog that keeps on hoping and trying no matter what. But the West Virginia corgi's comical lack of proportion, jaunty air and playful confidence makes them more of a gift to us than a responsibility.

Update on Abe

Here are the pictures from his adoptive home, where he is doing well (with the standard big dumb country dog problems):

 

The healing has been better than expected, as you can see. He'll always have an indentation, but it won't be angry-looking.

 

Here he is asleep on his adopter's foot. He's made himself a little den , complete with what looks like a stuffed animal.

 

I think this picture speaks volumes.

Hurrah! Abe is adopted!

He got along very well with his new canine brothers who were little Yorkie types and immediately started bossing Abe around. 

There is no other way to describe this than miraculous. Dogs like this normally take up to six months to place, and involve an enormous amount of effort during the screening process.

No pictures, but I'll post some if I get some.

It's all in the name

One of the more fun things I have to do is come up with a name for puppy litters. Our group has placedpuppies from the Darling Buds, the Capra-Corns (who were stars of the first Puppy Bowl), the Shamrocks, the Shirleys, the Lolli-pup Guild, the Potlucks, the Washboard Band, the Muggles, the Krewe (Hurricane Katrina pups who were stars of the second Puppy Bowl), T. and the Crumpets, and the list goes on.

The news that Martha Stewart had purchased a new Chow Chow puppy reminded me of a litter that I never got to name: The Old Yellers. I figured if we ended up with a batch of purebred hounds of some sort, we'd need to prepare their owners for the 15- to 30-second time delay between when something is said and when the hound hears it. Well, what better way to emphasize that there might be some raising of voices than to name them after famous yelled names. Also, it would be hard to stay too frustrated yelling these names. With that, here are some of the names that I had thought to use: 

• Stella (from Streetcar Named Desire)
• Shane (from Shane)
• Adrian (from Rocky)

Why did Martha Stewart's new chow pup remind me of this litter? Ladies, and gentlemen, I present to you (name after the jump):

The facts are much happier in the case of this Internet rumor

Our group is helping a pit bull named Ice who was terribly abused. He was seized by local animal control in a cruelty case after being starved and having his mouth duct-taped shut. Our group has him listed on our site under another name to protect his privacy somewhat, and we will be screening applications for the county when the time comes.

Unfortunately, there is an Internet petition circulating about Ice where most of the facts are glaringly wrong. (Don't look at that link unless you have a very strong stomach. The pictures, which are accurate, are hard to tolerate.)  That has stirred up a lot of trouble for animal control, since they are understaffed and are now spending hours answering phone calls from irate and misinformed animal lovers. It also puts "Ice" under a spotlight, which is not a good thing in local politics -- for example, when the newspaper wrote about the hoarding case we worked on and how much it was costing the county, the sheriff's first thought was to euthanize those dogs. (Fortunately by then there was only one left.)

This sort of misinformed activism (called slacktivism by some wags) can sometimes be very dangerous. This morning I woke up to an email from a very influential animal rights type who wanted to know how far she could go in advocating Ice's case. I told her to hold off. However, there is a very serious risk that Ice's owner (who hasn't surrendered him -- Ice is still "evidence" in the court case), could somehow gain MORE rights if this becomes a front-burner issue for legal officials. 

Fortunately, though, Ice is safe and his wounds are healing fairly well. Here's the listing from our group's site. 

P.S. I hope to meet him next week, and really be in that moment.