Baby Bit

How do you come to terms with the successes and failures in rescue?  Even when it appears that all is falling into place we are sometimes taken back by events beyond our control. 

Thus is the case with Baby Bit, the last remaining puppy from our foster dog's litter. The other day we celebrated that one had survived.  We did the happy dance that she would be reunited with her Momma.  We marveled at the prospects and championed a pup that had a bright future ahead of her.  Two rescues and many rescue contacts worked together across several states to give her a second chance.  All of us, rescue members, families and friends invested part of our hearts toward this happy ending.

Alas, the ending is not happy.  Sadly, Baby Bit crossed the bridge last night.  Maybe it was parvo, maybe coccidia...we will never know for sure.  I do know we grieve for a puppy, and rail at the injustices that lead to her death.

It is a part of rescue.  One day celebration, another day grim reality.  In the end we take comfort for opening our hearts, for willingly taking action, for loving a pup before we even met her.  At very least she knew gentle hands and loving touch.  We won't forget her, in fact we will work twice as hard because of her.  Rest in peace little one...

Miracles Happen

Sydney - aka Little Bit is settling in well.  There have been some bumps in the road, such as being heart worm positive.  She's our first HW foster.  Thank dog she is young and carrying a light case of it.  We are facing about a month of activity restriction.  Okay, 28 more days, but who's counting.

Big news regarding the puppies she had prior to coming into rescue. Three were surrendered to a rescue program, and two of those died. The others, as I mentioned last blog, had a horrible death in an act of violence. Only through a random phone call from the perpetrator himself was enough information gathered to piece the story together.  Each of us who has ever loved grieved the loss of those puppies.  And yet, something good has come of it. One puppy survived.  The rescue in Oklahoma had the puppy but not the knowledge of where she was from.  Momma and puppy had even been at an adoption event together, but the staff was unaware they were a little family. 

In the way miracles unfold, the pieces all fell into place. Calls were made to bring the puppy into rescue and eventually back to her Momma.  This is one of the golden days of rescue.  When the light of love shines on us and balances out the days of grief when we can't save as many as we want. 

Someday soon Lil Bit and Baby Bit will be together again.  So we give thanks, for the circle of life, for the randomness of human nature, for the open hearts of the rescue's involved, for a Mother's love.  And yes, oh yes, we celebrate!

Only Good Things

We've had many foster dogs grace our life.  They come from all over. Each has a story, some with lots of history, some with just a little.  All have stories they could tell if only they could speak.

All of them are special, but some are extra special.  No really, I speak the truth. Okay, I may say that with each and every one.  Here is another truth, I love a good rescue story and I hate a rescue story. This is today's story.

Enter this little pointer mix.  She hales from Oklahoma. It's a miracle she's alive. Hold on to your hat, this isn't pretty.  The former owner took a hammer to her puppies killing them all in front of her.  He took a hammer to her and the other family dog. Sydney, our foster, was able to escape. Clyde took the brunt of the beating. A neighbor intervened, God bless him, and arrests were made. Did I mention about the trailer house being infested by roaches? And that the owner came back, tried to burn down the house and Clyde as well? It's ugly every way you look at it.

We opened our hearts fully expecting a pup shell shocked by trauma.  What we got is the beauty of resiliency and hope.  She is not at all timid, loves to cuddle, clearly has prior sofa and lap experience. She is affectionate and gentle.  That is not to say there is not a deep sorrow within her.  How could there not be?  What we feel is the gentle heart of a survivor who simply trusts good things are coming her way.  We will do everything to see that that happens for her. Clyde is awaiting transport to a foster home as well.  He too has a bright future ahead of him thanks to Muddy Paws Second Chance Rescue.

This is what rescue is all about.  Taking chances, trusting that love and healing will come. Sometimes it comes almost instantly, sometimes not, but it comes.  That I promise you.  For Ms. Sydney...we're not looking back, only forward.  Only good things lie ahead.

When The Right Home Come's Along....

Buddy, aka Budwheezer, was our foster dog for 15 months.  He came in as a possible hospice foster, and we loved him even if that was the journey he was on.  We loved him, like we love all our fosters, perhaps just a little more.  Because he was such a great Buddy.

But, there was a greater plan and truthfully, just what we wanted for him.  Fostering means you wait, for them to settle in, for them to feel safe, for them to learn the ropes, to gain confidence, for them to heal, for a good prognosis.  When he got his good prognosis, he went back up on the adoption ready list.  Still he waited, and it was okay with us.

With fosters you get inquiries from time-to-time on your dog.  But if you've done this enough, you know not to get excited.  You answer their questions and see if their interest grows or wanes. You breathe a sign of relief when you know it's not the right home.  If it's the right home, it will all fall into place.

So you wait, and you love them during muddy days, the days you find toads in the house, during the days they eat baby bunny's, when they howl in the middle of the night for no particular reason. When you think it will never happen, and are secretly happy about that, it does.

On that day you look at your foster, and the possibilities the forever home offers, and you know you have no choice.  Love is like that.  Give of your heart for the greater good.  Which is just what Buddy got.  A greater good, a forever home, and love that ran deep from the first time she saw him.  Now, I know, and she know's, he can always, always, always come back.  We're okay with that.  For a delightful time we were the best for him.  Now his forever home is.  Life is good.

Old Dogs

I took my very first pointer, Mick, and our current foster Buddy out for a walk today.  You see, I made this promise to Mick that we'd spend more time together. So we cuddle every chance we get and go for more walks.  It's a win-win for both of us.  

Now, in human years Mick is roughly 83 and Buddy is 56.  I was thinking of them both as old geezers, but that makes me one too.  If that is the case I was in good company.  In the field, they lose the geezer years and are simply in their bliss.  

They may have roughly 139 human years, or 23 dog years between them. but they can still out walk and out run me. They are a thing of beauty in the field, on the sofa, or simply laying in the sun.

Mick and I walked yesterday too. Of course the wind was blowing 30 mph, so I thought we'd never get home.  Well, I thought I'd never get home, Mick did just fine. Maybe being lower to the ground he had less wind resistance.  I must have been the high profile vehicle on the road and he just raced in under the radar.  

Now, Buddy digs our walks too, but on the return trip he is always the first one to reach the porch.  The others lollygag in the field as long as possible, not so for Budwheezer.

You do have to love a dog who's waiting for you on the porch.  Just like you love the ones getting in every last sniff in the field. And the old ones?  They are the best of all.  Don't get me wrong, I still go oooooh and ahhhh over a puppy.  But day in and day out I give my heart to the seniors.  The old geezers, the seniors, the gnarly, the lame, the game old dogs that they are.  They don't know they are old, they just are...and I'll take every moment I can of that.  In the moment, with the old dogs.  Win, win.  

A Toad-ally Happy Story

Sometimes, we all just need some time to heal.  Maybe I should stop right there.  It would be my shortest blog ever.

But, and there is always a but, it doesn't tell the whole story.  Buddy came in and we had high hopes he would be adopted.  Then he had some health issues and we decided it would be best if he stayed as a permanent foster. No worries if that was the case.  We love this old guy.

Of course, he pushes his luck just a little.  He has a penchant for catching toads. Sure, we found it amusing at first.  We chuckled at his antics, admired his diligence and marveled at his prowess.  Until he began bring them inside with him.  First he'd bring in the dead ones...then he started bringing in live ones. No two fosters are ever the same, but this guy takes the cake.  He uses his nose like a shovel to root out these toads.  More than once I've taken a wash cloth to his face to clean off the mud.  

Suffice it to say he's thriving. So much so we felt a second opinion on his health was in order.  Good news, he got A+'s from the vet!  Now we all know that there are no guarantee's, for humans or four leggeds.  You take what you get and work with it.  Buddy is healthy and happy as a 9 yr old toad hunter can be. Given that he has been put back up on the "adoption ready" list at Great Plains Pointer Rescue.  Will he find a forever home? Maybe, maybe not. We want him to have every chance.  He's safe, loved and healthy.  He had time to settle in and to heal.  Things we all need...safety, love, time to settle in, time to heal. We love him enough to let him go, and enough to keep him if that's how it plays out.

Rescue, and life, is about second chances.  Take 'em when you get 'em.  They help you heal.  

Buddy Here - Checking In

Buddy here - checking in.  It's been one month since my last confession.  Errr,  ummmm, I mean another month as a permanent foster has passed.  There were a few moments.  Let's see. There were the three pots I drug off the deck last week and disassembled.  There was the pot I knocked off yesterday and dug about in.  Yes, I see a trend here, do you?  

There was the cut on the bottom of my foot.  Nope, not saying how that happened.  Sorry about the blood on the floor.  Didn't I do a good job tracking it all through the house? Spread your blood, I mean love all about.

Oh ya, there was the old tree stump you used as a coffee table.  I tell you there was a rodent inside it that had to be flushed out.    And, I need to mention the toads.  Dang the toad hunting is good here.  Anyone else notice they look way better than they taste?  Egads they make me slobber.  

There have been visits by that other pointer recently.  He has a silly name.  Freckles, who names a dog that when the name Buddy exists?  Bud, Buddy, Budwheezer.  You can't say Freck. Freckbudy and Freckwheezer.  It just doesn't make sense.  

Now, I get checked regularly for new lumps and bumps.  More often than a boob in a mammogram clinic.  Any time I expose my belly for belly rubs I get checked.  Geesh...give it a rest.  So far so good!

I've been digging the bee's too.  Lots of clover blooming in the yard makes the bee hunting fabulous.  My success rate for catching them varies too.  Mostly because they fight back.

So there you have it.  I'm still kicking it and getting into mischief.  It's good, I'm good...and the treats here are good.  May treats rain from your sky, they sure do from mine.

~Buddy.