Zero Balance

For once, and I know it may not last, I have a zero balance at the Vet's office. For some, especially my vet, its the equivalent of paying off a mortgage. A huge endeavor, and a wonderful event. I think this needs to be reflected in my credit report. Heck, even a billboard might be in order.

True publishing this proclamation may in fact jinx things. But, why miss a chance to celebrate. This has been a life goal of sorts. Thankfully, my vet has given me lots of time to get there.

On the other hand, those bills at the clinic are memories, some good, some not so good. Either way they deserve honor. I believe a trip out to the pine trees where Kobe and Maddie are buried is in order. Those bills were a necessity to care for my Prince and Ms. Maddie in their illnesses. I wouldn't have missed that for the world. So, vet bills are/were a good thing. I did a lot of loving at the clinic. Those bills weren't necessarily a bad thing.

So, while my vet bill has a zero balance, my heart is full to the top. Both good things in my book.

The State of Rescue in Nebraska

The state of Nebraska recently passed Legislative Bill 910. This bill establishes a new licensing category for animal rescues operating in the state. This bill is intended to weed out rescues that operate with very bad conditions, and others that are animal hoarders calling themselves rescues. There is a mandatory $150 annual fee for licensing, a mountain of paperwork to fill out, and required inspection of the property. This applies to state run rescue organizations and national breed rescues that operate in the state of NE.

In the attempt to weed out some irreputable "rescues", the state may also run out some national rescue organizations that work tirelessly to promote breed rescues and save dogs. Pointer Rescue Organization is one such rescue entity. We have foster homes in many states across the US. If every state charged a licensing fee, such as NE, GA and MA do, many, many dogs would die in shelters because no one stepped up to save them.

Pointer Rescue is in the process of determining if they will pull out of state of NE, as it has ceased assisting dogs in GA and MA. As the only Pointer Rescue Organization volunteer in the state of NE it breaks my heart to know this may happen. Rescue organizations are run by volunteers who give their heart and soul to help just one more dog find it's forever home. How sad that in an effort to weed out the few bad "rescues" we also eliminate some of the good ones.

Visiting Dignitaries

I think anyone who doesn't like animals should immediately be deemed suspect and have their DNA tested for genetic abnormalities. The flip side of that is that anyone who is an animal lover, especially a dog lover (I am a bit biased) should move to the head of the class. So perhaps I'm making some wild generalizations, but there is some truth to this theory.

The Big Guy upstairs led me to the dogs, and in turn the dogs have led me to some awesome people. We enjoyed the company of one of those dog lovers last night. The fact that we had never met before was irrelevant. A friend of a friend of a friend who is a dog lover is a friend of mine. If they are a pointer lover even better.

Ms. Sophie was quite enamored with our visitor. Sophie rubbed against her like dogs do a dead fish on the river bank. Really, I mean that in the nicest possible way!! Hank graciously leaned into her for some loving in his "it's all about me" sort of way, and Mick did the whole "I'll make like I'm shaking hands, but really I want to see some cleavage" manuever. Amanda was enchanted (I think) as only a dog lover would be! I mean really, if a strange human did those moves the police would be called. Thank God dogs have a special magic that makes them all the more loveable for acting this way.

Suffice it to say, if there was an underground railroad of dog lovers we would be a safe house along the way. Our door is open to dog lovers. That just about says it all.

Returning the Favor

Several years ago, Prince Kobe went walk-about. He ambled off the property and took a little stroll. I suspect he just wanted to wander and enjoy the neighborhood. He only got about 1/2 a block from home - thank God - before some kind woman picked him up and took him to the shelter. Kobe was walking with a dreaded cone of horror on, so I'm sure he only saw straight in front of him and missed some of the sights.

Today I got to return the favor. A little Shih Tzu, named Snickers, wandered into the yard. How could you not help a dog named Snickers? The gods of candy karma would smite you if you didn't! I tried to call the owner, but got no answer. Luckily Snickers was micro-chipped, licensed and had a tag with his owner's phone number on it. One of his tags said he "needs medicine". He was obviously well loved.

Now, I'm hoping he was really lost. My luck he was visiting a neighbor and just wandered out to the front yard. No one else was in sight and I wasn't taking any chances. Snickers got the same treatment Prince Kobe did. A gentle hand, some kind words and ride to the shelter to wait for his owner.

What goes around, comes around. I was happy to return the favor.

My House My Rules

Part of the joy of fostering is seeing a dog learn and blossom. In some cases, especially a dog like Sophie, you get to see them put aside their fears and just become a dog again. Many times they learn from other dogs, which is a blessing because there are just some dog behaviors I don't mimic very well! This in itself is a good reason to own multiple dogs - as if I needed a legitimate reason.

We have to laugh at little Ms. Sophie. She's decided it is canine appropriate to bark ferociously when someone walks in the front door. No, she didn't learn this from the other dogs. Unless the spirit of Ms. Maddie is teaching from over the bridge. Two nights in a row she's gone ape sh*t when Reno has walked in the front door. We have laughed ourselves silly over this. Little Miss Chicken Little charging down the stairs barking up a storm. Until she remembers to be scared and dashes to the safety of her crate again. Either she is taking ownership of the house, or she has had years of abuse from men and she's starting to say she's not taking it anymore!! I'm voting for the former. But the latter is not bad either.

Growth happens, fears pass, joy returns - sometimes it's a noisy process.

Did I Listen?

Sophie told me. But did I listen? Ummmm, no.

You often hear of dog owners who are livid with their dogs because they got into the trash, or soiled their crate, or made some other mess. Basically they were doing what dogs do. The owner has the responsibility to prevent issues or respond to them in the process. It's not always the dogs problem.

Case in point. I spent the first 50 minutes of this morning cleaning Ms. Sophie's crate and some carpet what had been soiled during the night. Not a fun way to spend your morning, but I absolutely can't blame her. She told me, around 3:30am that she needed to go out. Granted, what she said, and what my brain was willing to hear were two different things. She was most emphatic in her need, and I was most reluctant in my bed.

In my defense, the rowdy neighbors were hitting the obnoxious stage in their party. I did not want to be seen darting out in my robe with a dog who is known to have performance issues while relieving herself. I did take her out the back door, which we never do. I didn't give her sufficient time before scooting in the back door which we also never do. Nothing like stressing her a bit more. Bless her heart, not long after she again sent a rather direct message that she needed to go back out, but I refused to listen. I hope she will accept my apology.

It was a rough night for Ms. Sophie. For me not a great morning, but part of fostering and owning dogs. Sh@t happens. And sometimes it's in the crate. I didn't do my "owner" part very well with her last night. So I had my work cut out for me this morning. Thank goodness "To Err is Human, To Forgive Canine".

Whiskers

No, this blog is not about a pup named Whiskers.  But I usually write about the dogs.  Since I referenced dogs during my first sentence I can move on to other subjects.

This blog is for my friend Joan who pondered recently why women are cursed in later life with facial hair.  I've been thinking about this myself lately.  Her query got me thinking even more about it.  Well, and then last night while doing some selective tweezing I thought about it yet again.

I told Joan whiskers were pay back from the whole Adam & Eve fiasco with the apple in the Garden of Eden.  I believe menstrual cramps, menopause and mood swings are also the result of that.  Funny how plucking used to be limited to eye brows.  Mmmm, not so much anymore.  It's just not fair I tell you.

I admit experiencing a fair amount of angst about this.  They say to embrace your beauty as you age, but I don't think this applies to facial hair.  I reserve the right to detest this part of aging.  I used to adore my mascara wand, now my tweezers have more value.  The other day I wondered if duct tape could be used like wax for hair removal.  No, I wasn't drinking when this thought came to me.  I haven't actually tried it, some things are best left to professionals.

So, my dear friend Joan - I feel your pain.  The women of the world (at least the older women) can relate.  One day your skin is smooth and lovely, the next there is a wicked long whisker.  At least we have tweezers.  Eve probably didn't.

I don't share well......

I've discovered I don't share well.  Just typing that makes me feel like time out is right around the corner.  Reno, his son who's visiting and I have all been sharing one computer this week.  Hmmm, not much fun for any of us.  Wishing my fairy godmother would get her wand out and "poof" present me with a lap top.  Realistic, no, but hell, why not dream big?

Speaking of playing well.  Miss Sophie is discovering that the yard is something to be investigated. We're past the quick trip out to potty and the mad dash back in.  Maybe she's liking the yard better now that it's not covered by a couple feet of snow. I like it better that way too.   Of late, I've been ready to come in before she is.  Big progress for this little bit of a pointer.

I think we're almost ready to begin invisible fence training with her.  On one hand, I think training will go fast with her.  On the other hand, she does seem to have a high prey drive.  Our backyard forays at night always amaze me.  She knows right where the bunnys are and I can't even make out their shadow. One night all three dogs were on point and I couldn't see what the big dealio was.  Until Mr. Bunbun made a run for it. 

It will be fun, when she's trained, to see her scamper and run for the fun of it.  Every so often she gets the zoomies in the house and man, can she scoot!  She's learning, and becoming more relaxed.  Baby steps for Sophie.  Baby steps for me as I work on that sharing thing. 

Creepy Crawly Things and Play Dates

First of all, let it go on record that snakes give me the heebiejebbies.  I don't like 'em at the zoo, in the garden, in photographs and especially not in the house.  Sometimes Mick will hunt them in the yard and have great fun with them.  That creeps me out too.

Today I encountered one inside.  It was coming up the steps from the basement.  Holy crap bat man.  If snakes could be cursed to death it would have happened today.  If shrieking could render them into a sudden coma followed by a speedy death, there would have been a fatality.  But nooooo, it doesn't work like that.
Said snake was scooped into a box (not by me) and deposited in the garden.  I wonder what my blood pressure was at that point?  No dogs around, naturally, for this episode.

Later, I discovered a second one.....more, even more foul language ensued.  I thought perhaps I hadn't used the right string of language to eliminate the first one.  This freakin snake had the audacity to be sunning itself in the front room by the window.  Yes, I will understand if you never come to visit here again.  Frankly, I don't much care to live here anymore either.  This time the dogs were in the house!  Helloooo???  Hunting dogs - what the hell were you thinking??  Obviously not of protecting the manor.  Although the roof raising vocalization of outrage and fear did get their attention.  It was not a good day, and I am not sure I will survive.

On a more positive note, and at this point anything would be more positive, Sophie had a play date today.  Perhaps calling it a meet and greet is a better description.  She got to go in the car - always an adventure.  Before I'd backed down the driveway she crawled into the front seat and scurried under my feet on the driver's side.  Hmmm, not conducive the driving.  She wasn't going to budge, so we parked and got out of the car.  Lifted her back in and tethered her in the back seat.  Off we went. 

Sophie's new friend is Sugar.   Sugar is a 6 month old golden mix who has plenty of energy to burn.  They didn't play, but they sniffed.  Sugar tried her best to engage Sophie.  Sophie trembled, tucked tail and stuck pretty close to me.  She did investigate the edges of the patio, let my friends toddler daughter touch her and let Sugar lick her tongue.  Over and over and over.  I think the meet was a success.  For a first visit I think we've set the stage for success down the road.

For me, it was nice to have some fun excitement as opposed to the kind that I had earlier today.  Thank God Reno was home to slay my dragons, or at least move them out to the garden.  I'm sure it's one of those "remember when" days.  I'm sure you probably wondered where all the screaming was coming from .  Now you know.

What's Your Thing?

I have a thing for dogs, jewelry, flowers.  That goes pretty much without saying.  Sometimes it takes a while to discover our "things".  Sometimes our "things" evolve over time.

Sophie has a thing for the blanket that covers the sofa, the OU rug, and the sofa cushions.  Sure Kongs, balls, and chew toys are okay, but they don't present the challenge the sofa does.  If I could stuff the sofa with dog treats she would think she'd died and gone to heaven.  Trouble is she only likes to "play" with her things when I'm not in the room.  She knows the difference between toys and sofa's.  But, like chocolate, sometimes only a sofa cushion will do.  Whoever adopts this girl needs to know this about her.  Sofa cushions are Sophies thing.  Of course, if Mr. Hanky or Mick would play with her the sofa would not have so much appeal.

Speaking of Mr. Hanky.  We are celebrating a year of being his foster home.  This time last year we made the journey to Red Oak, IA to fetch this boy.  Of course the plan was to foster and move him to a forever home.  But plans do change.  I always wonder what make a person deem a dog "not worth" the time, the trouble or the expense.  Was he a failure in the field?  Was he dumped because of his cancer?  Was he one too many mouth's to feed in a money tight economy?  Maybe he was all of the above, or none of the above.  Lucky for us he found his way here.  Our thing is to love him the way he is.  Not hard to do at all.

We all have our things, our quirks, our passions and our sofa cushions.  I only pray yours are half as entertaining and enriching as mine are.

Moving Dogs

There is a dog named Bolt in Iowa that I've been working on.  Truth is, I've never met Bolt, and I most likely never will.  I've never met Sheila who helped pull him from a kill shelter, I've never met Loren who has him as a temporary foster, or Deanna, who's helped coordinate vetting and moving him.  I'll probably never meet him or the family that has agreed to foster him.  But, he's been on my radar, and I've been in contact with all of these folks.

We are a family of sorts stitched together by our love of dogs.  Bolt is getting a second chance.  Each of us plays a small, but crucial role in it.

Bolt doesn't know this.  Whoever is lucky enough to adopt him won't realize how many people stepped up to the plate to make this happen.  It starts by one person caring enough to try.  It's followed by a string of emails, phone calls, wishes, prayers, more emails and phone calls, and answered prayers.  All this effort for an animal who was otherwise doomed to be euthanized.

No matter how long I work in rescue it's still amazing how large the network of dog lovers is.  So I would be remiss in not sending prayers of thanksgiving to the unknown people who helped bring all the dogs who've shared my life to me.  Thank you, thank you for all you did, and all you do.

Sign me - proud to work in rescue.....and lucky to love dogs.

Sophie Dances

Sophie dances when no one is looking.  She also plays best without an audience.  Yesterday she dragged a sofa cushion clear across the room.  For being a little bit of a pointer, she can move mountains.  It's tough to get in good corrections when you can't catch her in the act.  Maybe we need those large round mirrors in the corners on the walls so you can see what's going on in the other room.  Or maybe not, that just sounds creepy. 

I am always torn between seizing those training moments and just enjoying that she's willing to play and get into mischief.  Last night she showed me a beautiful point, just gorgeous.  She followed that by testing how long the flexi-leash and my right arm is.  Yes, the right arm is longer now thanks to her!  She is making progress.  This morning, while I was out in my robe of course, she wanted to linger in the yard while I wanted to get in out of the wind.  That falls under the "be careful what you wish for" theory you know?

I suspect, that like Sophie, many of us dance when no one is looking.  But I also think, if we danced spontaneously that others would join in.  So, I have to ask, where do you dance?

Converts

As much as I love pointers, and have been known to sing their praises a time or two, I don't have the ability to convert people to love the breed like the dogs do.  I have to tell you, they worked their magic last weekend.

Hank's magic is the sort of "hey I'm a loveable dufus....pet me....pet me....pet me....can I snuggle with you" kind of magic".  Mick's is more of a "hey, I'm a totally cool dude and a hunting dog to boot" sort of magic.  And of course, Sophie's is a "hey, I'm a cute little pocket pointer....shy...starting to open up....skittish.....silly when she thinks no one is looking....adorable...heart winning" type of magic. 

Truthfully, pull these three dogs together and who?  Who I ask you could resist?  If I could send them on a Pointer Revival Tour to bring pointer lovers into the fold I would do it!  Now, I may be biased.  Or, I may be really on to something here. 

Either way, the pups touched hearts this weekend.  And who among us doesn't need a little more of that in our life? 

A Bird is a Bird is a Bird

To say the pointers are hunting dogs is an understatement.  Mick will hunt anything that moves in the yard.  I've seen him snatch bee's from mid-air.  Now I don't endorse that particular sort of hunting.  It doesn't reflect great genius, as much as pure instinct.  He'll hunt the bunny's, squirrels, snakes, and the crickets.  To me, Mick frozen on point on a cricket is as beautiful as if he was out in the field.   Since I never get him out in the field he compensates however he can. 

Yesterday I observed him from the kitchen window watching, watching something in the garden.  He was most intent about it. Then he started to bark at it, which is way out of the norm.  From my stance I couldn't see what he was hunting.  Of course, it was on the outside of the invisible fence, so his access was limited.   Finally, my curiosity, and his barking led me out to investigate.   It wasn't until I was almost in the garden bed that I saw his "prey". 

I am 100% certain at some point in Mick's life that he prayed for something more exotic to hunt than what he finds in our yard.  He was probably hoping for a pheasant or a duck, but may have been somewhat vague in his petition.   What he got was a tropical bird. 

Now, I don't know tropical birds, but the beautiful lime green of it told me it was someone's lost pet.  I had my camera in my pocket so quickly snaps two pic's of it.  At that point it kept coming closer and closer to us, which was obviously a problem.  Mick is a somewhat less than reliable diplomat in greeting foreign aviary dignitary's.  Hank was right there too.  Face it, two pointers and a tropical bird is a recipe for appetizers. 

I hauled the two dogs in the house, grabbed the phone to call animal control, and by the time I went back the bird was gone.  The bird probably surmised I'd taken the two dogs in to get honey mustard for it's wings.  I went out wondering if I caught the bird what I'd planned to do with it.  I had no viable plan, but it turns out I didn't need one.

I hope it made safely back home.  I'm glad Mick brought it to my attention.  And, it's proof prayers are always answered, just not always in ways we expect.