Comforts of Home

It is always such a treat to observe new foster dogs as they learn to simply be a dog and to enjoy the comforts life can offer them. Adequate food, gentle hands, toys, comfortable collars. These are the very basic things we provide our beloved pets and fosters.

Layla is adapting easily, almost seamlessly into our household. She has decided all the toys should be corralled and kept in a pile under the kitchen table. She sees an adorable pointer in the reflection of the oven door, and the dishwasher door. She initiates play with that reflection, but sadly it won't play back.

The food is quite to her liking. Although having starved to the point of emaciation she probably thinks any food is good food. But she's enjoyed scrambled eggs, home cooked chicken, cottage cheese, yogurt and home made treats. Of late, I've been cooking so much for the dogs I feel like I should start a business catering to dogs. Maybe they could rate the canine cuisine by a show of paws.

She is inquisitive, but not stressed. Always a good thing with a foster. Her whole life changed and she's embracing it. Yes, she gets into mischief, but she takes correction well. Another good thing in a foster. Walking her is entertaining. A lot of zigzagging movement, some forward motion, some standing still and refusing to move.

She did discover the recliner tonight. I'm certain she considers it a throne that royalty such as herself should enjoy to the max. If she could talk she'd be saying "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas any more". But there is no place like home, even if it is a foster home.

Geographically Speaking

I seem to be living/traveling vicariously through my dogs. Especially the fosters. For example, Sidney came from Oklahoma, Hank and Pete from Iowa, Sophie from Nebraska, Kobe and Layla from Kansas, Mickey from Missouri, Snowflake from Tennessee, JR and Queenie from Colorado. There was also Buddy, Bo and Jackson...ummmm...I can't remember their states of origin. Adoptive homes took two to NY state, others went to Mississippi, New Mexico, Minnesota, a couple stayed in Nebraska. Only one was a foster failure, so far. Several, sadly, have crossed the bridge.

Layla and Pete could be siblings, or second cousins twice removed. It amazes me how similar they are. Even right down to the nickname skeletor. Kobe had a face only a mother could love. Sidney was my butterfly boy. Hank is my only permanent foster and frankly we couldn't have been more blessed to share his life. Sophie taught us all about patience.

And then there is the whole network of friends I've made all over the country, and the world, who also help dogs. What a delight it would be to actually meet them all!

I may not travel much, but through the dogs I get around. All of this because I wanted to give back to rescue after adopting Mick. Funny thing is, all these years of giving back and I have yet to give back a tenth of the joy I receive from helping the dogs. It is the road I travel and geographically speaking it has been dogged with blessings.

Ohhh, nice digs...

So far, says Layla, all my needs are being met. Well, there was the whole water torture episode, I don't think I deserved that, but I lived through it. The nice lady got in the large ceramic bowl thingy and held me. The not-very-scary man got me wet and helped scrub me. It was scary, sort of.

I still have a ring around my neck. That is from where the chain was tight around my neck. When I was found it had to be cut off, and my fur is discolored from it. They wish I could tell my story, but we all know dogs don't really tell stories.

My hips and ribs tell a bit of my story. I was hungry, very hungry. So far I've had kibble, pancakes and even some cat food. Frankly, I've been so hungry even cat food is good. I just hope there are no cats in it. I get cookies here too. Not the kind huMom's eat, special ones just for Hank, Mick and I.

Mick is a cool dude. Hank is kind of a grumble butt. But they seem to like him, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I have a tiny condo also known as a crate. I have soft blankets and a fenced yard. They like me here, and I like it so far too. Guess I'll stay for a while..... ~Layla

HRH Layla OliveOyl of Girard

Take one skinny, frightened, dirty dog. Bless her with angels and fly her to a foster home and presto chango you have Ms. Layla.

Now, you may be wondering what's with the high falutin name. Well, she is going to grow into it I tell you. We can only take credit for the Layla part. The OliveOyl part was what she was dubbed by her pilot from Pilots N Paws. Olive Oyl was a skinny little wench too, just like Ms. Layla. The Girard part of her name gives a nod to the town she originated from Girard, KS.

She had an eventful trip including hurling in the air plane. I had an eventful trip down to a very small rural airport to pick her up. Nearly put my truck in a muddy ditch. Come to think of it I about hurled too.

She has a grimy looking ring around her neck. Left from a chain collar around her neck so tight it had to be cut off. The deluxe shampoo treatment didn't remove the ring, but time, love and new fur will as it comes in. Thank God the collar wasn't embedded in the skin. She was/is a lucky girl. She is timid, head shy and very gentle. Her first meal was pancakes. This seems to be the year of cooking for dogs. Of course, Reno is a little worried because I cook for the dogs first, then us.

So there you have it, a big day for Ms. Layla. With a big thank you to Pilots Jim and Sam. and of course for Reno, who always says yes when I want to bring home a new foster.

I Need Some Groceries

There is a saying in rescue that goes "get that dog some groceries". Naturally we're talking about skinny, hungry, emaciated dogs. The ones that break your heart just to look at them. Yep, I'm a sucker for those dogs.

Tomorrow I'll be driving to a small regional airport to pick up just such a dog. A hungry dog, a skinny dog, and dog who is lucky enough to get a second chance. The good folks at Great Plains Pointer Rescue know I have a soft spot for English Pointers. They work diligently to save as many German Shorthairs and their cousins as they can. This little gal was found wandering in southern KS. Her guardian angel led her to a person who owned German Shorthairs. Now, he couldn't keep her, but he cared enough to not let her starve and took her to the local animal clinic. God bless people like that.

Tomorrow she comes to Nebraska thanks to Pilots N Paws. Little did she know she hit the jackpot when she wandered onto that Good Samaritan's property. Life changed for her, and good things are on the horizon. We get the privilege of filling her tummy and her heart with love as her foster home. You can bet we will be getting this girl some groceries.

Progress Report

The good news is Mick is like a whole new dog. Happy, active, hungry, playing, Mick is back. Last I wrote putting him out of his misery was becoming more and more a valid concern.

Good advice from friends in the rescue community encouraged me to explore the possibility of tick borne illness. Thanking God for those friends. From everything I read tick borne illnesses (TBI) are very difficult to diagnose in humans and animals. They have mysterious symptoms and there are many variables. Mick was favoring one leg, not eating, in obvious pain. Sometimes severe joint pain is associated with TBI as well as neck pain. All I knew was he hurt and nothing we were doing was making any progress.

I approached the antibiotics used to treat TBI as a shot in the dark. Frankly I had nothing to lose by trying them. Amazingly he began a swift turn around for about a week, and then began to lose ground again. We adjusted his meds and he improved, but was not great. I can think of three evenings I sat with him on the recliner and though I just can't let him suffer like this anymore. Further dialog with people with experience with TBI pointed me to adding a second antibiotic to his regimen. Again, just what Mick needed.

The amount he improved boggles the mind. Today we went for our first walk since the beginning of the year. I think he set a record for the number of times he stopped to mark something. Hansel and Gretel could not have left a better trail than Mick did. Not that I'm complaining. He can stop and pee as many times as he wants. He's much much better and that's all good in my book.

All I Need

All Hank needs to make him happy is a Kong filled with peanut butter. Give him that and he is a happy boy. Simple wants, simple pleasures. One happy dog.

I should focus so intently on the good things in life. He is such an inspiration. Yes, I know he's a dog. I know he sniffs crotches and licks his own butt. I know he snores. I know he pulls the blankets off you in the night and won't move over.

But he is also totally in the moment. He acts like I feed him filet mignon. A walk is surely a trip around the world. A treat is caviar and creme brulee. He likes nothing better than to accompany me into the bathroom. Failing that invitation he waits patiently outside the door. His needs are so simply met.

The simple things please him. Everyone should have a Hank in their life. More of us should enjoy the way he does. His joy is not half hearted. It is eager, and enchanted, and it is all I need.

Good Days

For someone who generally has a great appreciation of the good things in life, I admit to having a new perspective. New perspectives are good.

My days of late have been centered on how Mickey feels. If he hurts, I hurt. If he has a good day, I have a great day. We are joined at the heart. Granted it's the same way with others we love. Their well being affects us.

Mick and I have been taking up lots of space on the recliner, snuggled in homemade blankets. Hank doesn't get why Mick gets the special treatment. Some day, although I hate to even say it, it will be Hank's turn. But not for a long, long time I hope.

A good day is when Mick's tail wags, he eats, and isn't limping. A good day is when he curls up in a ball and sleeps like a puppy. A good day is when I don't have to stress about getting him to eat. For the record, liverwurst is the ultimate pill pocket in Mick's book. Liverwurst, OMG, liverwurst. Mind you, Reno was mortified when I started using his liverwurst for the dogs. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. If Reno needs pills, I'll put liverwurst around them too.

It does make me pause and give thanks for the good days. Sometimes we have so many of them we fail to appreciate them. New appreciation is deeper and sweeter. And I'm grateful for that....

Old Dogs/Sick Dogs

I could scream with frustration. But it's not about me. It's about Mick and he doesn't feel good. Adding an antibiotic to his diet made a swift turn around for about 4 days, and now we are backsliding some. He is better than yesterday, but still not great. He has become Mr. Finicky Eater. Short of doing back flips, I can't find a consistent combination of food to entice him.

We try all manner of things. As an owner it's what I do. I've cooked more for him this week than I have for us. Bacon and eggs are usually a hit. But not this morning, and not tonight. Liverwurst and cottage cheese was spot on at lunch time, but now holds no appeal. Hamburger and rice was an epic fail. Hank, bless his heart, volunteers to eat every dish Mick turns his nose up at.

I wonder if jello is the answer like when I was little and under the weather. I wonder if a Popsicle would help, but I rather doubt it. As a pet owner, I can't remember ever feeling so helpless.

So I cook, I pray and I feel for my dear boy. I hope he turns around soon and licks the bowl clean.