Tag: dog

What Were We Thinking? by Mary Jo Meloy

by Guest, posted in Companions, Rescue

Guest Post by Mary Jo Meloy

My husband and I have been blessed with dogs our entire married life. We have always had two dogs at a time as companions to one another. We lost our last canine couple, a chocolate Lab and Boxer mix, the same weekend—one from cancer and the other from hip dysplasia. Since we are now in our early 70s, we decided against having any more companion animals. We grieved for a couple of years without dogs when our daughter suggested another dog was needed for our “protection.” Elderly safekeeping? Research studies show that living with a dog positively impacts one’s physical and emotional health, especially by improving the health and happiness of older individuals. 

In July we rescued two pups from the Chuck Silcox Animal Care & Adoption Center in Fort Worth, Texas. They are both very good with people and other dogs, but both were dealing with parasites so could not be put into a social setting or sent to training. Phineas was 7 pounds when adopted—pathetic and petrified, skin and bones, broken and bow-legged from malnutrition. Ferb was an athletic, muscular, stunning fawn Boxer when relinquished to the shelter. 

Boxers tend to be highly energetic, playful, and upbeat and consume all your energy—and 70-year-olds do not have a lot of spare energy to be consumed. We are seasoned animal guardians but have not had puppies for 15 years, so a serene existence suddenly felt totally out of control with the thought, What were we thinking?! 

Having furry friends, especially two together, completely changes the retirement routine. Canine chaos and craziness become part of what was once a sedentary life. House cleaning is a daily duty now, as is scrubbing the backyard storm glass door from dog slobber. As we scoured the outside exterior of the glass with paper towels and Windex, Ferb was on the inside, imitating the wiping movements with his tongue. We realized that we adopted a giant tongue saliva machine with a dog head attached. 

The mighty mischief-makers proved to be a destructive dynamo duo, destroying and devouring anything that had pooch appeal. There were dozens of toys and chewies, but Phineas went for furniture and carpeting; Ferb, everything else. Phineas—besides gnawing on his bestie bud, Gentle Ferb the Boxer (who already looked like a boxing prize fighter who’d lost in the ring, with his mangled ears and scabbed and scarred face)—also enjoyed chomping playfully on his guardians. Our new best friend became liquid skin. 

Phineas and Ferb require plenty of playtime, exercise, and attention. The pups played non-stop and, while wrangling and wrestling, broke a glass door to our antique bookcase. The bottom shelf of literary works became exposed to literary consumption—literally! The dogs found several of our printed works to be in good taste. 

Since they consume books, possessions, time, and energy, we contracted a personal trainer who came to our home. After instructing us not to use treats for motivation, she decided to get the dogs’ full attention with treats. She instantly had their complete attention, and the twosome sat perfectly still at her feet like garden statues. While the handler explained “stay” and “come” while waving her arms, the pair started to perform amazing animal auditions. They offered right paws in unison—then, upon receiving no food reward, concurrently extended left paws, then lay down, and finally rolled over. The trainer was oblivious to the players’ performance of their entire repertoire of tricks. When the trainer’s barking instructions concluded along with her stretching and swinging arms, both dogs simultaneously stood on their hind legs and twirled—as their finale. If it wasn’t for the exorbitant expense, the ludicrous training session would have served as comic relief. Learning—nor mastering mutt manners—was not one of the things the hounds ingested! 

A new experience was having to search to find the robot vacuum. The vacuum now works 100 times as hard; what once was an easy, peasy job now involves swallowing dog hairs and choking on bits of dog food. I clean up on vacuum nights, fold up their cooling mat, put away all the dog toys, and sweep up the dog food, but the robot vacuum still tries to hide and commit suicide. Some nights I’m too tired to pick up everything, so I give the robot a night off and send it back to its dock. Now, the vacuum automatically gives itself nights off. It hates vacuuming our doggie daycare center, as our home has become the House of Kibbles. 

The Texas triple-digit temps led us to bribing the pups to go outside. The heat did not help with the housebreaking training. Ferb shattered a 5-foot-tall mirror, so that’s 7 years of back luck. (We’re assuming that it will now take another 7 years to housebreak them.) We have been drenching and dousing baseboards and furniture legs in white vinegar to keep Phinn from chewing them. The term “piss and vinegar” must refer to the smell of the House of Kibbles. 

We are adjusting, and the pups get mandatory naps now, as do we. Phineas has become a handsome little fat boy, while Ferb becomes a bigger goofy goober by the day. He makes us laugh with his comical antics and silly stunts. As Ferb runs, he is so smooth and graceful—until he runs right smack into the patio post. Then he stands on the backyard stone wall like the magnificent lion king surveying his land—he looks so regal, except that his ears are inside out. The partner pair are valuable members of the family, who bring both madness and mayhem into our home, but also joy and entertainment. Having dogs, with their devoted companionship, may be one of the greatest gifts that enriches our lives with love and laughter. 

Dogs provide security, unconditional love, and forever affection. The question of “What were we thinking?” when rescuing these pups often comes to mind, especially when cleaning up pooch piss, poo, and puke. The answer is that life is too short not to embrace man’s best friends. Furry friends create a human-animal bond of the utmost importance. Both of our sweet-natured softies are loving and loyal. Cuddling clownish Ferb with his big brown eyes and wrinkled forehead and petting pretty boy Phinn are soothing to the heart and almost as good for the soul as prayer. Happiness cannot be bought, but possibly it can be rescued.

Mary Jo Meloy, a dog lover, is married with three children and a granddaughter. She has resided in various parts of the country, but after relocating to Texas, she traveled thousands of miles with her husband via motorcycle. “Been there, done that—on a bike!” A number of her joy ride tours have been published in Wing World Magazine. She also wrote “Mother of My Heart,” published in Memories of Mothers: Inspiring Real-Life Stories of How Mothers Touch Our Lives. Her self-published book, Somewhere in France, A Rendezvous with Your Own Thoughts, is a richly detailed commentary on the Second World War via a compilation of her father’s letters.  

One Green Planet: This Dog May Have Lost His Eyes, but His Heart Just Keeps on Growing

by Laura Lee Cascada, posted in Companions, Rescue

This blog was originally posted on One Green Planet.

One thing’s quite obvious when you look at a picture of Bear the Pit Bull: He can’t see — at least, not through his eyes. At just one year of age, Bear was hit by a car and wound up at an emergency vet with severe injuries to his face. His guardian at the time was unable to afford treatment, leaving Bear’s fate hanging in the balance. Fortunately, New Jersey-based Rawhide Rescue stepped up to the plate, offering to fund Bear’s medical care if a loving family could take him in. And, luckily for Bear, one worker at that animal hospital saw beyond his disfigured eyes and into his heart.

Taking a Chance on Love

When teen Katie Frame, the daughter of that compassionate hospital staffer, first met her new dog pal, she admits that she was a bit nervous about caring for a special-needs animal. And it soon became clear that the damage was so extensive that Bear would need multiple surgeries, which would ultimately leave him eyeless.

This Dog May Have Lost His Eyes, but His Heart Just Keeps on Growing
Katie Frame
 

But Katie and her family never turned a blind eye to Bear, who, in those early days, struggled to get around and often bumped into obstacles he couldn’t see. While walking, he pressed his body up against his new family members, afraid to venture too far. Soon, however, Bear learned to “see” his environment in a new light. Katie explains, “He eventually mapped out the house in his head and he gets around easier than I thought he would.”

Shedding Light on Special Needs

Katie took to Instagram to share Bear’s journey with the world. There, Bear’s tens of thousands of followers are gifted with photos of him snoozing on the couch and sniffing out the cool autumn breeze. These images are often accompanied by insights into Bear’s daily life and how he has adapted to the world around him without eyesight.

This Dog May Have Lost His Eyes, but His Heart Just Keeps on Growing
Katie Frame
 

On Instagram, Katie explains that on walks, Bear moves from one side of a path to the other: “He’ll walk to one side and when he feels grass he starts going to the other side. People don’t really realize that a blind dog’s (or any dog’s) sense of touch is important to getting around and understanding the world.”

She’s also shared her plans to try out “nosework” — a mentally and physically stimulating activity in which Bear can use his heightened sense of smell to track down the source of a scent — with her best friend.

Katie hopes that through these snippets and photos, she will show the world that although there may be challenges to life with a special-needs animal, the rewards are boundless. She writes, “Most people see their dogs love through their eyes. I see his love through the beating of his heart … Don’t overlook the disabled pups. They can see and hear better than anyone.”

Bear Gives Back

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Bear has been his ability to inspire from the moment he walked through the door. Reflecting on her life, Katie admitted that before Bear, she wondered about her direction in life. Once Bear came into the picture, however, she felt filled with purpose. After all, what could be more motivating than a dog who, despite having no eyes, bounds into life each day, ready to navigate the world around him?

This Dog May Have Lost His Eyes, but His Heart Just Keeps on Growing
Katie Frame
 

One way Katie has channeled this inspiration is through her “Shelter Dog Sundays” on Instagram, where she shares photos and stories of other dogs in need of loving homes. Even if they can’t adopt a dog or donate to a rescue directly, Katie urges Bear’s followers to spread awareness of dogs in need of adoption. “Just don’t do nothing,” she urges, in reference to the millions of animals seeking homes every year.

About Bear, Katie concludes, “He has taught me that love is not what you see, but what you feel.” And with his enormous heart, maybe he can teach all of us to see beyond the cover and love what’s inside.

Lead image source: Katie Frame/Instagram

Teddy - Wags 4 Hope - The Every Animal Project

This Shaggy Dog Beat Heartworms–Now the Art He Inspired Is Saving Others Like Him

by Laura Lee Cascada, posted in Companions, Rescue

(By Laura Lee Cascada / Photographs by Annie Blumenfeld)

Annie Blumenfeld - Wags 4 Hope - The Every Animal Project
Annie Blumenfeld with dog, Teddy

Meet Teddy. Four years ago, he bounded into Connecticut teen Annie Blumenfeld’s life and changed it forever. Now, in 2016, Teddy spends his days watching chickens and roosters peck around the neighborhood, eagerly awaiting his next adventure with each walk and car ride. He lives a life of luxury, preferring to take his water from a glass–with plenty of ice cubes, thank-you-very-much.

But before his happily-ever-after, Teddy’s story was bleak. In a shelter in Texas, this shaggy, tail-wagging dog was slated to be euthanized because he had tested heartworm-positive, plagued with a serious parasitic infection of the heart, lungs, and surrounding vessels–all because somewhere along the way, he hadn’t received a simple monthly preventative. As the cost of treating heartworm disease can range from $600 to $2,000 (compare that with the cost of prevention, often equalling out to just a few cups of coffee each month), the only option for many overwhelmed, underfunded shelters like Teddy’s is a final, irreversible one: death.

Fortunately, just days before that fateful walk, Teddy was scooped up by Houston Shaggy Dog Rescue (warning: click the link, and be prepared to be overwhelmed with adorable pictures of furry mops with bright pink tongues and barely-visible eyes). His treatment began right away: over a month of cage confinement as an arsenic-based poison flowed through his system. As dying heartworms are dislodged from the heart area, excessive movement can cause fatal blockages of arteries. So dogs must remain still, giving their bodies time to break down the parasites. This treatment period can be grueling, leaving dogs feeling lethargic, feverish, and coughing. But Teddy survived it.

Now, meet Annie. When she learned of the painful process Teddy had to go through before he could join his loving family, her heart broke. Annie did some research and found out that animals with heartworm disease rarely stand a chance in shelters because of the high cost and length of treatment. Around that time, a piece of her art, a painting of a sheepdog, was featured in a local art show. There, a woman approached her and asked to buy the piece–and if she could paint other dogs. The wheels of 14-year-old Annie’s clock started turning. She became a teen on a mission.

Wags 4 Hope - The Every Animal ProjectAnnie thus founded Wags 4 Hope, a 501(c)(3) organization dedicated to spreading awareness of heartworm disease and relieving the burden of shelters’ veterinary bills. To fulfill her mission, Annie sells custom-painted portraits of dogs, cats, and even the occasional pig and then donates the proceeds to shelters and rescue groups all over the world. And to help spare other dogs from the horrors that her dog, Teddy–and others who are not so lucky–endured, she speaks out about the importance of heartworm prevention in big and small ways.

Her efforts recently paid off in one gigantic way at the Connecticut State Capitol, where Annie worked with lawmakers and rallied citizens for over a year to pass H.B. 5422, a bill that would add a checkbox onto Connecticut’s dog-licensing application for guardians to indicate whether their dog is on heartworm prevention. While not mandating the use of a heartworm preventative, the bill aimed to raise awareness of the disease and prompt guardians to look into this easy step to protect their dogs.

On the first go-round, the bill failed to pass. But Annie persisted with Teddy and hundreds of citizens by her side, and Connecticut became the first state with a heartworm awareness message on its dog license form. The Department of Agriculture ordered 100,000 copies of the form, which is available statewide and online.Wags 4 Hope - The Every Animal Project Annie has now set her sights even higher, hoping that other states will follow suit.

Today, after four years, Wags 4 Hope’s art continues to make waves and raise money for shelter animals online, where its Facebook page has garnered over 6,000 likes (help it get to 7,000!). Annie’s even recently launched a line of chic clothing featuring her artwork in partnership with Vida. You can become a part of Annie’s vision by visiting the Wags 4 Hope website and supporting her work.

In the meantime, Teddy’s story marches on, proving day after day that one dog–and his inspirational human–can change the world.

Puppy from Na'alehu - The Every Animal Project

The Pup from Na’alehu

by Laura Lee Cascada, posted in Companions, Rescue

It was late one evening in the spring of 2015 as a carload of us–my wife, Rachel, and I, along with two friends–were making the long trip back from Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park to my parents’ home in the Ka’u District halfway around the Big Island. We’d just hit a straight stretch of road outside of the quaint town of Na’alehu when my eye caught a glimpse of a small white blob slinking along the right-of-way. I slammed on the brakes, feeling fortunate in the aftermath that we were the single car on the road.

The white blob was barely bigger than a coconut with two pointed ears, one hopelessly failing to stay upright. We quickly scooped this young pup up, inhaling a scent reminiscent of death and risking a major onslaught of fleas. We couldn’t leave him, so young and vulnerable. There was one option. We’d come to visit my parents in their newfound retirement for just two weeks, and apparently, we had forgotten to bring a gift. This wormy and homeless pup would have to do. We drove onward as I played out the scenario that was to unfold in my mind.

You can’t seem to go anywhere without picking up a dog, they sighed, just as I’d imagined.

Pup from Na'alehu - The Every Animal Project

The next few days were filled with howling. And poop. And more howling. And even more poop. And as I walked from my room to the shower each morning, a shark-let gnawed at my ankles until they felt raw.

It became clear that this pup had no home. But, not quite thrilled about the prospect of spending endless bright, sunny days mopping up diarrhea, my parents pledged to get him in with the local rescue and out the door as soon as possible.

Each morning, as our troupe prepared for the day’s outing, we’d turn our backs just long enough to find this pup, now named Niu (and eventually renamed Pip), sprawled out atop our backpacks and lunch coolers. At night, as Rachel rocked in an old wooden chair, he gradually ascended her torso and wrapped his tiny body around her neck. On a hike, his lanky legs failed him over the rocky terrain, so he was quickly swaddled in a makeshift sling, a.k.a Rachel’s hoodie. There wasn’t an object that couldn’t be made a bed. He just seemed to fit, always.

When Rachel and I returned to Hawai’i this month, Pip was still there. I suppose that, somehow, he had just seemed to fit his way right into our family. Not much had changed, really, except that this tiny coconut had matured into a 70-pound barrel. His howls had been upgraded to barks, and, fortunately, his bowels seemed to have been tamed. That ear, the one that always seemed to droop, had finally learned to stand tall.

For the first few days, surprisingly, Pip seemed to have no recollection of us. He hovered in corners and darted out of rooms when we came near–perhaps confirmation that his mother had been a stray. Rachel learned that she could approach him with her back turned toward him and then slowly slip a hand out for him to sniff. I tried my luck, somewhat unsuccessfully, at bribing Pip with treats; I’m sure he saw right through these thinly-veiled attempts at bonding. Sometimes I even managed a few pats on the head before he turned around and recognized me as the patter. It was hard, but inevitably, we knew our only hope was to respect his space–essentially, to leave him be.

So, ignore him, we did. Soon he began to test the waters, slowly climbing the stairs to our room and poking his head in just long enough to catch some sniffs before our eyes locked on him, and then–danger, retreat!

Near the end of our visit, all hope seemed lost. We simply weren’t going to be friends. It wasn’t meant to be. We’d admire Pip from afar; he’d stare back at us with mounting suspicions. But one day, as we sat around the table for lunch, Pip scampered between pairs of legs. A wet tongue began to brush against my knee. And it licked and licked and licked.

I wish I could say that it was all peachy keen from that point forward. It wasn’t. Pip still kept his distance; we continued to make peace offerings. Little by little, we seemed to get closer and closer. By the end of the trip, I managed to plant a kiss on his forehead. We hadn’t become best friends, but we’d started to test the friendship waters. Next time, I know he’ll be ready for us, and we for him.

P.S. If you have a dog with social or separation anxiety like Pip, check out this great guide to eliminating fear in your dog from Natural Wonder Pets. In addition to their K9 Calm formula containing organic calming herbs like chamomile and passion flower, they offer a step-by-step guide to changing your interactions with your pup to promote confidence in him. One piece of their advice that’s really worked at home (and with Pip) is to act like your departure and arrival are simply no big deal and to wait to greet your pup for several minutes after getting home. Dogs are so in-tune with their guardians that when we act like coming and going isn’t a huge ordeal, they start to take notice. For that gem and more, click here.

(Note: This post contains affiliate links.)