Foster Needs

Our "foster needs" list is always too long.  There is always another dog, or two or three, or more, needing that golden opportunity called a foster home.  Sure, you think, I "need" another dog in the house like I "need" a hole in the head.  I promise fostering is more fun than that! 

Can I ask a blunt question?  What are YOU waiting for?  Sure it's the holidays, sure it takes some work, sure it involves opening your heart to a big unknown.  What's your point? 

As the year ends we always take stock of how our life went over the last 12 months or so.  We look ahead to big changes, new beginnings, "do overs" so to speak.  Who wouldn't like some second chances? That is what working in rescue, and in particular fostering, gives us.

Hank is our current foster.  He's a permanent foster, so I admit to a little envy watching adoption applications come in and dog's going to their forever home.  Perhaps I'm envious because I know how awesome Hank is, but I also recognize that with his cancer he is not very adoptable.  But, and there is always a but, he is totally lovable, in a high energy, happy-go-lucky, semi-dufus Mr. Hanky kind of way. I wouldn't trade this time with Hank for anything.  His second chance enhances our life every single day.

Open your heart, open your door, your pocket book (hey, I'm a realist here!) to fostering.  The second chances you get in the process are amazing, and the second chances you give are priceless.

St Francis, St. Therese of Lisieux, the Madonna and Pete

Or, you lead and I'll follow.

About 18 months ago our foster dog Pete moved to the Big Apple.  Up 'til then I'd never been there, didn't know anyone there, didn't even have thoughts of going there.  Pete changed all that.  Dog will do that to you.  They slip into a crack in your heart and presto chango life takes you in a new direction.

Now I can say I've been there, and I have friends there.  So when my NY friend said one of his friends NY friends was coming to Omaha the plan was made to perhaps pop in and say hi to her.  Well, the fact that she sells jewelry, and I like jewelry kind of sealed the deal.  Let me rephrase this, I make jewelry, she sells jewelry.  I dabble in beading, she sells jewelry in really nice stores.  She knows Wayne, I know Wayne - it's all good.

She makes jewelry from antique and vintage religious medals.  Very cool.  Refreshing to see icons like this adorning people rather than tucked away lost and forgotten in a jewelry box somewhere.  I chose two for my necklace, St. Therese, the patron saint of florists, and the Madonna.  Not the singer Madonna, but the other really popular one.  The third medal came with this new friend specifically because my old NY friend told her of my recent losses.  The third medal is that of St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals.  St. Francis is absolutely, totally and blessedly appropriate for my doggy dog world.

Like I say, its funny where dogs will take you.  When my new NY friend ask how I knew our mutual NY friend, I used Pete as a reference.  I like to think some of my best references are the dogs.  Pete of  "Liver Treats OMG Liver Treats" fame has taken my life on another journey, one that includes my favorite saints, and other untold blessings.    

RIP - I think not....

The phrase 'rest in peace' has been rubbing me wrong all week.  It's not what I want for Kobe and Maddie.  Don't get me wrong, it's not that I want them to be suffering at all.  But, anyone who owns dogs knows peace may not be what they are best at. 

I want Kobe to be free of the arthritis that made him so gimpy, so he can chase tennis balls and chew the fuzz right off them.  I want him to be able to climb onto soft warm beds, on the other side of the bridge, to nap on a pillow top in the sunshine.  I want him to feel good enough to be a wee bit naughty.  I want his tail to thump nonstop like it used to.

I want Maddie to run full tilt after the balls.  And, I pray there is a ball thower in heaven who's arm never gets tired.  Let her swim in ponds and have pillows all to herself.  Let her be a puppy again, surrounded by her kids.

If there is peace involved, let it come to me and  may it be peace of mind.  Let the joy of being a dog, as God so wonderfully created them, be their reward.  May treats rain from the sky, and sunshine warm their days.  And please, Lord, may they watch over me until we meet again.

Sentimental Journey

As we were washing the china after Thanksgiving dinner tonight, I wondered aloud how many dinners had been served over the years on my Great Grandmother's china.  I'm guessing I've served on it for at least 30 years.  Yes, it takes a little more work to hand wash them, but to me it's worth it.  Things that require an investment of your heart always are.

We feasted like kings and feel as sated as Humpty Dumpty right now.  Luckily we ate so much none of us have the energy to climb up to sit on any walls.  It's been a tough holiday, and yet, we are lucky indeed.  We've had many losses, but our blessings continue to exceed them. 

I admit to getting weepy during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and the dog show that followed.  I'm just like that, sentimental and soft hearted.  At times these tendencies don't serve me well in life.  But, as Popeye said "I yam what I yam".

Come Christmas the litter of lab puppies my Granddog sired will arrive.    I suppose that will make me a Great Grandmother of sorts.  New life and new journeys always make me misty.  That is another part of loving, making room for new beginnings. 

I know that my Mother, Sidney, Maddie and Kobe would all encourage me to shed the tears and then to love again.  I too, know it's only a matter of time until another sentimental journey begins for me. 

Thanksgiving

To say I have learned more about love from the dogs than from anyone, or anywhere else would be the gospel truth.

If that isn't cause for thanksgiving I don't know what is.  God created Dog and it was good.  I've been learning ever since I opened my heart to that first one.  A wee bit of fluff in the shape of a lab named Abby.  Then there was a dobe named Fancy, then Mickey.  Then the fosters began.  Then love found it's way from Reno to Omaha bringing with him a little springer girl named Maddie. 

It took a dog with a funky lip to teach me what handsome was.  I've always said Kobe was all I wanted in a man, well, except for the lip issue.  He was loyal, gentle, devoted, amusing, faithful and a prince.  He had scars, fractures and arthritis from life before gentle hands became the norm.  But it didn't change his sweet disposition.

Therein lies the key.  Life is not kind at times, this week bears that out.  We are bruised, fractured and hurting.  Yet, an old dog who knew pain and scars from barbed wire offers us a valuable lesson.  Love with all your Kobe heart.  Trust, believe, know that there are gentle hands to sustain you.  Be faithful, be loyal, worry not about funky lips.  You are perfect just the way you are. 

And while I struggle with these losses I am also graced with these truthes.  Without dogs I would be no where near the person I am today.  With dogs I am closer to being the best I can be.  They lead the way, and happily I follow.

No Way

There is just no way to say goodbye to beloved pets twice in one week.  I cannot fathom it, even though I'm living it.

First Kobe, now Maddie.  The ultimate joy of loving them also brings the ultimate pain of letting them go.  It's why some people refuse to love again.  I hear them say "oh, it's too hard, I won't do it again".  And I say no way.   

I would not give up the joy of tossing the ball for Maddie, or the eeeww factor when she'd prance back with the slobbery ball.  I would not miss the comfort of her snuggling into the curve of my back at night, although a few times I admit the warmth was unbearable.  I would never choose to miss helping an old dog up or down the stairs because some day I would hurt because of their passing.  For every time I scrubbed carpets,  cleaned up dog hair, scooped poop or spent close to my last dime on them I received a thousand times more unconditional love then I've ever been able to give.  Why would anyone miss out on an opportunity like that????

So, yet again, we release a gentle soul to the heavens.  Yet again, we find a place in the garden to bury a special friend.  Again, we cry.  Because we loved, and because we will love again.

RIP Prince Kobe and Maddie Sooner Simmonds.  You were well loved.

Prince Kobe

I know dogs don't have living wills and medical directives.  But, they depend on us to act as if they do.  Kobe and I had a deal and today I held up my end of the bargain.
There is a medical phrase called palliative care.  In the "we love our pets like life itself" world let me redefine that.  "Pal" = best friend, buddy, beloved companion.  Palli - "ative" sounds like part of the word relative, except that my canine pals are closer to me than some of my relatives.

Therefore, in my doggydog world palliative care means never letting my dogs suffer.  Kobe had plenty of suffering in his life before Pointer Rescue.  He had the worst of worlds and then the best of worlds.  He was not defeated by the worst and thrived in the best.

So when a major health crisis presented itself I knew which road I had to take.  Yes, we could have challenged the veterinary world and it's technology to buy a little more time.  But my time with Kobe was best spent in comfort and joy not suffering.

In the end, it is better to say I love you and softly release a gentle soul to the heavens.  It was a promise I both made and kept for Prince Kobe. 

Issues

It seems to be the year of issues.  Personal, health, canine, financial, remedial, employment, plumbing.  You name it - we've had it.  Of late we've had eating issues with the dogs.  Maddie won't eat, Kobe is picking and choosing....mostly choosing not to eat much.  Mick and Hank will clean up after everyone.  How accomodating.

I guess I need to remember that Kobe and Maddie are the seniors here.  Maddie is 9 1/2, and Kobe is older than dirt.  In fact, I think sometimes the line should read "...and in the beginning God created Kobe, and it was good"  after that He created the earth.  First things first you know.  And then also the line from Ash Wednesday "remember dog that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Losing one of the dogs has been on my mind a lot recently.  With Kobe I can't ask anything more of him.  He puts mortals to shame with his forgiving heart and gentle nature.  He and I sat on the bathroom floor today.  Heart to heart, communing our love for each other.  I'm not sure who was leaning on who, but together we propped each other up.

And Miss Maddie - still worries us so.  More tests on Monday, she has gone a week without eating.  If only they could talk to us.  Tell us what hurts, tell us what doesn't feel good.  Tell us what sounds good to eat.  Tell us why it's so hard to pill you.  Lordy I about have to tuck the pills clear down to your toes little girl!!

So we wait.  For answers to the questions, for resolutions to the problems, for peace from the worries. Still, in the worry of the moment, thanksgiving for two wonderful dogs.  One male, one female who fill our hearts with joy.

Immobilizing Fears of Succeeding

Most of us have fears.  Okay, perhaps that is an understatement.  All of us have fears.  The key is not that we have them.  The key is whether or not we let them imprison us.

All of this comes from a dialog we had.  Trouble is my best thoughts come later.  I never think quick enough on my feet to make valid points when needed.  I wonder why that is.  Wouldn't it be nice to offer that profound wisdom in the middle of the discussion?  My best Ah-ha moments come later.  So then they feel less valid.  Temper that with remembering that feelings are not facts.  .

I know God put Reno and I together for a specific reason.  Maybe it was comic relief as surely He laughs at us daily.  Who else could take on person brimming with tendencies toward impatience, and another person steeped in procrastination, put them together and challenge them to grow their love. 

I can just visualize Him snickering at us.  He must be saying "Nancy, my child  good things come to those who wait".   And then in his Fatherly gentle voice, "Reno. my son the waters fine, jump in".  And the dogs, who are so God-like in their ability to embrace life without the fears we create, no doubt woof in laughter too. 

I can only trust, which some days is easier than others, that His will is for us to keep moving towards a better us.  Our fears are also our greatest opportunities.  And success has many definitions.

$hit Happens

There are days in a multi dog household that you start the day cleaning up $hit and you end the day cleaning up $hit.  Praise the Lord there are Bissell Carpet Cleaners.  If only the dogs could tell you when their tummy's hurt.  But, no, you have to guess which one has the intestinal issue.  Just when you think you know the culprit a surprise pile is left and the previously suspect dog has been crated the whole time.

The good thing is that this doesn't happen often.  But on days like this I'd love to just hose down the floor, use a squiggee on it and call it good.  I've also noticed they do tend to gravitate towards lighter carpet when they have to express themselves.  Perhaps they want to make sure we see it when we wake up, or come home. They strive for the ultimate in color contrast.   Face it if no one notices it's not much of a surprise. 

What causes this?  It could be anything, it could be nothing, but there is definitely something and it's right there on the carpet.  I can't be mad at them if I'm not there to prevent it from happening.  Truthfully, all of us has wondered at one time or another if we were going to make it to the stool in time.  The dogs 'stool' just takes up a much larger area. 

That's life with dogs, or pets, or kids, even sometime with adults.  $hit happens......you clean it up, and life goes (no pun intended) on. 

It's all a Blur

This time of year it all becomes a blur.  Oh wait, it seems the whole year has been that way.  A few days ago it was Nov. 1st.  Now it's nearly the 15th.  I've worked eleven days straight, but will have most of tomorrow off.  Then it's another busy week.

Why is this of interest?  Because when things get nutso like this I especially need the dogs to ground me.  They show me how to slow down and relax even when I struggle to do so.  They don't get their fur all in a knot because of the merry go round of life.  They soften the stress in my shoulders and ease my face into a smile.  Sure I see the chiropracter, and sometimes get a massage. I love both these activities.  But none of those things heal me like the dogs do.

Lately Maddie has been horking - alot.  I think in children it's called vomitting.  But the noise dogs make when they upchuck definitely needs a special name.  Horking fits the bill.  She's not eating well either, so we're a bit worried.  She see's the vet Monday to try to figure out what's going on with her. 

Kobe sets the world record in canine napping, with a special emphasis on snoring.  Ancient, spry, crotchety and semiconscious all come to mind with Prince Kobe.  Not a bad way to live life.  He still gets excited about food and his Mommy, so it's all good.

Hank was confused today when I took Maddie downstairs to kennel up when I went out.  Hank went right in with her and then looked confused.  Hey?  What is she doing in here?  She looked at Hank the exact same way!   The expression on her face clearly said "beat it bonehead, this is where the Princess resides". 

Last but not least is Mr. Mickey.  He is handsome personified, or would that be dogified?  Unflappable as a therapy dog, total dufus at home.  It's not easy being that diverse, but Mick nails it. 

So as the month flies by, I give thanks for the dogs.  Without them I'd be lost.

Catalog Shopping

People used to window shop.  Me?  I'm a catalog shopper.  Not a catalog buyer, just a shopper.  And, I must say it, I am sometimes overcome with envy at the "lives" portrayed in catalogs.

Yesterdays mail brought an awesome dog catalog.  I am amazed at dogs who are able to sit, or lie still for a photograph, while posed on a lovely microfiber top of the line dog bed.  They look perfect.   The dog beds, out of this world!!  Oh!  If I had one that nice I'd crawl into it at night when the dogs are in our bed. 

Plush, soft, cozy, warm beds, blankets, coats for our four footed friends.  I'm not saying that some dogs don't live quite happily that way, just not mine!  For one of mine it's just not a blanket unless it has a hole in it.  I can imagine what he'd do with a bolstered, cushioned, padded fleecy bed.  Not to mention the stuffing on the inside.

So I look at the pin-up dogs and the lovely bedding shown in the perfect world of catalog life.  I say awwww at the puppies and the senior's in the photographs.  I know I've got dogs who, if they could sit and not wag their tail at the same time, are catalog handsome. 

And, because I'm a generous person by nature, I'd be happy to test some of those beds for durability and comfort.  I promise not to chew on them, but I can't speak for my dogs.

The Ridiculous in the Sublime

Or the Sacred in the ordinary. Your choice. Either saying depicts life to the "t".

Take Hank for example. He has amazing talents. And yet, he is a social moron in the bedroom. Recently, in his vertical jump at the front door frenzy, he actually rang the door bell several times. I have to laugh at the four dogs at the door, barking because Mr. Hanky rang the bell. Helloooo.....you all are at the door...you guys are barking at yourselves.

Then too, Hank managed to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock while wagging his tail in bed yesterday. He is smarter than your average bear, and as silly as a pointer can be. I know that was unintentional, because his goal in life is to see that I never get to sleep in late.

Then too, for a dog with cancer he is everything one could hope for. Reno says he'll live until he's 11 or 12. I pray he's right.

Whoever let him go, or lost him, or just plain abandoned him? You are an idiot. You are missing out on something very special. You're missing out on Life with Hank.....ridiculous....sublime....hilarious.....ordinary....and very much sacred.

Over Night

It has been a long time since I've had the opportunity to assist in a transport. For those who don't know, in the world of animal rescue, a transport is a group of volunteers who move an animal across country by each taking a leg of the drive. Finding volunteers to fill a run is always a challenge. Legs are usually about an hour long one way. Sometimes a trucker will take an animal the whole distance. Most transports are one day long. But other are several days, including overnights along the way. Coordination is phenomenal, and critical. But the pay off (not cash by the way) is incredible.

The most we've chauffeured in one run was 4 dogs. The most memorable was the dog that was moved across country to be reunited with it's owner who left the state to escape domestic violence. Talk about getting warm fuzzy's for participating in that one! We've driven legs to pick up fosters, we've driven legs just for the sake of helping.

A few time's we had the dog overnight to help with a longer run. We have that opportunity coming up later this month. Sugar Foot is being moved from San Diego to Minnesota. I wonder if anyone has told her about the climate change? Due to a heavy work schedule I can't drive any of her legs. But we can let her spend the night with us.

I can't imagine how bizarre a transport seems to the animal being moved. Every hour or so they are passed into the loving hands of the next driver. Then a random night in a strange house. Then back to the relay from driver to driver until they reach that final destination of either the foster or forever home.

It's funny how much difference giving up a couple hours of your time can make in a life. You give a little of yourself and you receive in spades of satisfaction. So Sugar Foot can snuggle in for the night here. She might not sleep well, we might not sleep well, and the resident dogs might not sleep well that night. But for one night, for the sake of helping one of God's precious four-footed creatures it will all be worth it.

She will pass quickly into our lives, and then out of our lives. But our heart will be touched. Isn't that the best we could possibly hope for?

Dogged Determination

As a foster home nothing is better than an update on your former foster. I've been incredibly blessed by my friendship with Pete's new owners. I get pictures regularly, although I think I'm about due for some, hint, hint, hint. But I get personal updates on the owners as well. I enjoy knowing what's going on in Pete's family.

I could not have chosen a better home for Pete. Yes, this little city girl was worried about Pete going to the big city. Pete, and his four footed female friend Lucy, live the good life in New York City. I've been to visit them - that's how lucky I am. Lucy just turned 14. Amazing, huh? She is not a pointer, but is lucky enough to live with one. She may have a different version of that, but I'm not asking her.

Here is how lucky these dogs are. Lucy, beloved senior that she is, recently had a leg injury making walks impossible. So what does one do in that case? Well, she got carried, that's what happened. Mind you she's probably a 50 lb dog. Of course, it's a challenge to carry one dog and walk another in the city. So he took them out one at a time. Walking one, carrying the other. Talk about dogged determination.

That is the sort of owner I want to be. That is absolutely the type of home I want my fosters to go to, and the type of person I want my kids to marry. When you really love someone or something, you make those sacrifices. Except, it's not a sacrifice, it's a privilege.

Never Enough Time

In going through my Mom's things I've discovered the following. We never talked enough about food. And, if I had been even remotely inclined to be a cleaning guru she could have been my mentor.

We keep finding boxes, folders, envelopes, trays, piles, closets, corners and cupboards chock full of recipes and notes for how to clean things. She was the queen of clipping recipes. Absolutely the queen. So many recipes so little time. She also had the worlds largest collection of cleaning supplies. Shelves devoted to cleaning products. I kid you not.

She can be proud of her kids. We are all good cooks. Scratch that, we are excellent cooks. All three of my brothers do most the cooking in their households. We all like to eat and one might as well eat well. At least that is my personal philosophy. I don't recall any really bad recipes Mom cooked. Now, Dad, that's another story. He made yeast rolls so hard you could skip them across the Missouri River. He made Hunters Stew, which I recall distastefully. But he tried, which was impressive for a man of his generation. He clipped recipes too. I find that rather impressive.

Cooking is one of those universal topics. A safe conversation in a time we strive for political discretion. Oh wait, isn't that a misnomer? Ahhh, but cooking?? Who can't relate in some way to cooking.

She loved recipes like I love dogs. And there is never enough time for that which we love, is there?