Forever home -- for real this time

Oh, sweet Crystal... wallering around on my friend M's carpet.

And hamming it up for the camera while rubbing fur all over M's pretty couch.

I got the official word tonight, at the close of an email message: "She has been so great for me. Oh, btw, she is a keeper."

btw? Hey, this is some news to drop as a "btw..." Yes, of course I called him right away. She was cuddled up on the couch next to him while we talked.

We know there's probably no such thing as the perfect dog, but, as Jules would say, there's definitely such a thing as the Perfect-For-Us Dog. And it looks as though M found his Perfect-For-Him Dog.

I am so, so glad.

She couldn't resist the power of his cuteness.

Just a quick before-work post to announce my friend Kirsten's new pup:

Adam is his name right now, though she may plan to change it when he gets home today. He was on my former city's shelter euthanization list this week. Joe, the amazing and dedicated animal services staff member who works his tail off to try to get animals placed rather than euthanized, added a personal note about Adam to this week's list. He makes videos of animals as he's able, and he did a lovely one of Adam set to James Taylor's "You've Got a Friend." I posted it on that ubiquitous social networking site that has had the annoying effect of decreasing blogging, and three friends shared it.

One of those friends was Kirsten. And even though she already had two dogs, she didn't wait for someone else to go adopt Adam. So now, instead of losing his life today, Adam is only losing his junk (which I'm pretty sure he won't miss), and Kirsten can pick him up at the vet after 4:00.

I knew there was a reason I never told Joe to take me off his email list after I moved.

Year in review

We've accomplished tons of stuff during this last week of 2010. (Some might even call us Responsibility Champions.) Both of us have the week off, and we have used it to do lots more unpacking, grout sealing, relative visiting, errand running, furniture and decor arranging, and the like.

One of the things I moved out of the garage today and into its proper place on the wall next to The Alpha's side of the bed was a shelf his dad made. It's a simple but elegant shelf, 16 inches wide -- perfect for mounting into two studs -- and the finish matches our bedroom furniture very well. At the old house, it held a piece of comic art, as well as three dog collars: Cub's puppy collar, Cub's grown-up collar, and Angus' baby collar (well, he was already a year old, but still -- after a few months he broke it and we got him a bigger one).

Moving is a great time to examine what you put where, and why. I figured that really, the comic book art was probably more suited to our office (i.e., third bedroom with no bed), so I grabbed a framed family photo to hang above the collar shelf. I'm not sure what year it was taken, but it was before Angus came along, so probably 2003. We were a family of three, with eight legs among us, instead of the six many humans would assume of a three-member family.

In this photo, Cub has barely any gray in her muzzle; only the kind that can be ascribed to her normal coloring, not to her age. Her right ear turns down at the tip, as it did for about the first half of her life, giving her a more distinctive (and endearing) look than a purebred dog would have. We are all smiling, all in the prime of life.

Just after I'd hung the shelf, The Alpha walked in, so I caught him up on my work in progress. He loved the idea of having that particular picture above the collars. He totally got it (one of many reasons why I love him so dang much).

So he drove the nail while I added a wire to the back of the frame. We hung up the portrait, and he arranged the collars with Cub's grown-up collar in the center, tags dangling off the front of the shelf. And I burst into tears.

Cub has been gone almost two years. It doesn't matter that she's a dog and not a human. She's family, and she's gone. And I will always miss her.

Which brings me to the year-in-review part of this post. At an appropriate point after my crying jag had ended, The Alpha and I reminded ourselves of what wonderful dogs we do have with us now. And he pointed out something very true: If Cub had still been around, we never could have taken in foster dogs. This time last year, I had jumped straight into the deep end of animal rescue and come up with Homer the Pit Bull, who was saved from being euthanized because I was able to pick him up at the shelter and hang onto him for a few days. He now lives in the Temple area.

Next came Foster (now Amos, making his home with a retired clergy couple in Dallas). After that, we had our smallest foster dog, a 20-pounder named Ralph, but who we called Little Bittle (he's now known as Teddy, and "good for absolutely nothing except being petted," according to his very pleased people).

And during the freaky Texas snowstorm, I braved bridges and overpasses to pick up Dustin (now Dusty -- adopted by my friend Cherrie, who officially designated me his fairy dogmother). Then there were the last two, Crystal and Poohbert. Crystal is still Crystal, but Poohbert, who lives by the lake, has become Puddles, so named for her love of water. Both are doing well; I've received emails from both of their families within the past week.

So, as dog years go, it was a pretty darn good one for us. Not an easy one, by any means, but a rewarding one. No, we couldn't have done it with Cub around, but you know what? We couldn't have done it without her, either. She made our household what it is.

Someday, we will be settled enough here in the new place that we will be able to help another dog or two. And Cub will still be one big reason why we can.

If I had a house right now...

If that house were in Texas, and not for sale, it would have a 100-pound husky in it tonight.

And if that house were in Little Rock, it would've had a strange little puppy in it after lunch today.

Every week I get the email updates from the Suburbia city shelter. It's how Crystal and Poohbert came to be our foster dogs. They've had some pretty good weeks recently, with all animals getting adopted or rescued instead of euthanized. One week they didn't even have to put any at all on the urgent list. But it looks like this week the streak may end. The last email I got still included quite a few dogs and cats looking for homes. Among them: Diamond, a large Husky about 7 years old who was owner surrendered, adopted, and then returned because he didn't get along with the family's cat.

Like I said, if my Texas house weren't on the market, it would have a Husky in it by now. Instead, he will probably die tomorrow morning (they gave the animals an extra day because of the holiday weekend, but with the tropical storm, folks haven't been getting out in the rain to adopt).

And at lunch today, two of my co-workers introduced me to a place to procure a yummy milkshake. It's out of our way, and not in the best area. As we were getting out of the car to place our order at the walk-up window, one of my co-workers said, "That's a cute puppy."

"Where?" I asked, and he pointed behind the dumpster. Then the little black-and-tan somethingorother (part cocker spaniel, we think) came over to visit with all three of us. I wore sandals today, which meant I got a complimentary toe-licking with my puppy visit.

Puppy was a boy. No collar, and obviously no fence keeping him safe. I told my co-workers that if I had a house, I'd inquire with the lady at the window, and if she didn't know who Puppy belonged to (or if who he belonged to didn't plan on providing any better care than letting him wander) we'd be picking up the pup along with our milkshakes and dropping him off at my house before we went back to the office.

As it stands, though, I couldn't help. I hate not being able to help. At the same time, given the long-term fostering I did this spring, I realize I could easily get stuck with another dog or two for an indefinite amount of time.

But I still want to help.

---

UPDATE: Just got the final email for today. All dogs but one have been rescued, and we believe that one has a rescue group interested. Several cats still left, though... which is sad, but makes me powerless to help because of my allergy.

Another happy goodbye

This seems to be the week for parting. Again, it's a good thing:

These nice people welcomed Crystal the Foster Dog to her forever home this evening.


Early developments indicate that she's a daddy's girl.



She shows appropriate respect for/lack of interest in the toddler, too.


Everything I see and hear tells me that these are People Who Get It. The kind of people who understand that a dog can become a valuable part of the family, if you will only let her. And they are going to let her.

Thus far, The Boy and The Tueser seem to be enjoying getting back to a two-dog household. Just wait until this weekend, when I rock their world yet again by taking them to live with another family -- temporarily, while we put this house on the market. I'm going to miss them something fierce these next few weeks.

Dang goodbyes.

Farewell, Poohbert!

Ah, the Poohbert. She's such a cutie.


Which is why we were a little mystified as to why nobody had called about adopting her in the two months we'd had her. We did have some friends who admired her, but no serious inquiries... until last weekend, when Barb, a woman from a rural town north of here, called to see if Poohbert girl was still looking for her forever home.

Barb was already partway down to our 'burb running errands when she called, and she decided to go ahead and come have a look in-person. It went well -- Poohbert reminded Barb of her dear departed dog, but not too much -- and so the pre-adoption process began: checking out the veterinary history of the potential adopter, testing Poohbert around cats since she might be living with a couple, etc.

Yesterday morning, we had Poohbert jump on in the car for a ride northward. An hour later, from a dead-end road off a dead-end road, we turned into a driveway of a house near the lake.

Poohbert met Daisy the dog, who lives next door. She met Bob, Barb's husband. She also met neighbor dogs Honey and Trapper, and Shadow the Cat. She ran a few good laps around the yard and figured out Daisy can run faster than she can. She sniffed all around the house and figured out where the cats like to curl up and sun themselves.

We walked her down to the lake, and she had her first experience with waves chasing her on the shore. She wasn't really sure what to think about that. She watched Daisy dog swim around, though.

She drank lots of water, and left an equal amount splattered on the floor all around the indoor dish, and all around the bowl on the porch, too, as we had warned she would. Barb didn't mind.


Poohbert's new name: Puddles.

It's appropriate.

This morning, Puddles woke up her new mom at 4 a.m. because she had to be a good dog and go for a trip outside. And then at 6 a.m., she just wanted to get up and check out the lake a little more.

She sure looks like she's home to me.

Some dogs never leave you.

Two years ago yesterday, we said goodbye to Cub. We still miss her. Tears are welling up even now. Eight years was not enough life for her, but liver disease doesn't play fair. We did the best we could and cared for her in ways that not everyone would have bothered to do. She was -- she is -- my babydog.


So it felt right that yesterday I was able to honor her memory by helping other dogs. My friend Terry and I got up way. too. early. and picked up five dogs from a local shelter. We used The Alpha's car because it has more room for things like crates (he didn't even complain about the smell... which is still there, even though I wiped down the entire cargo area when we were done).

We drove Frankie, Charlie, Oso, Hudson, and Sally to Ardmore, where we met their next transporter, who drove them to Norman. The next leg took them into Kansas, where they stayed overnight, and this afternoon they are scheduled to arrive at the rescue group HQ in Minnesota. Those dogs are alive because we helped. We made a difference.

Oh, and yes, we still have the foster dogs. Here's a new Petfinder listing for Crystal.


When she and I met the pit bull rescue coordinator on Friday, I learned just how attached she is to me. Karla tried walking with Crystal across the parking lot of her office while I stood still, and Crystal kept stopping to look back at me. Karla recommended that I recruit other people to take Crystal for short walks while I stay home, to get her to worry less about where I am and learn to enjoy a walk more. We also will make regular trips out and about until she learns to relax a little more in unfamiliar situations. Her timidity is her biggest hurdle. She is definitely adoptable, though! I'm glad to have that assurance from someone more experienced at these types of things.

Oh, and Poohbert is still doing quite well, too.


Some dogs never leave you. In Cub's case, I'm very glad of that. In Crystal and Poohbert's cases, it's just not for us. We aren't their forever home. We will gladly keep them safe until they find it, though.

Hurried updates

I'm supposed to be on my way to the office already... but I had to share:

- We have been on two walks with all four dogs now. Pooh Bear is a typical puppy who has no idea what a walk is except fun! Crystal, though, seems to have been trained to heel, and to walk calmly. She shows up our dogs. It makes me wonder even more who let her go, and why.

- The two fosters have done pretty well in the back room the last couple of days. After a couple of destructive episodes, we made some modifications to their space, and it has worked well. (They get to watch PBS all day... I showed them Clifford before I left yesterday morning.)

- They are good dogs who really need forever homes. The city shelter sent out a message about an elderly dog who needs a home for 6 to 8 weeks until her owner finds a new place to live. The shelter can only keep her until Tuesday. We would love to help them out, but we have no room.

Dog Couch happenings

It's a cold and lazy day here. Not much going on with the current occupants of The Dog Couch, but I thought I'd share anyway.



These two foster dogs were kenneled together at the shelter, and they get along very well. Last night Pooh Bear, the pup, was play-chewing all over Crystal, the pit. Crystal is so patient with this fuzzy baby. It's very sweet to see, but so far they haven't let me capture their playtime on video.

Still looking for loving adoptive homes for them. Maybe -- and I do realize I'm dreaming here -- one loving home would welcome both of them together.

*Sigh*

I saw something disturbing this morning.

I think I do a decent job of keeping my political preferences low on the radar. I don't hide them, but I also don't shove them in other people's faces. I don't list them on the social networking site referred to by many RevGals as Spacehook. I don't want my politics to be a barrier to relationship with those who don't share my opinions.

Which is why I found it especially disturbing that a bumper sticker reading, "Yes! I want [last name of the person inaugurated on January 20, 2009] to fail!" was on a vehicle in my church parking lot.

It's one thing to see something like that in traffic. It's in poor taste no matter where it is, and no matter who you voted for. But I saw this sticker where my community of faith gathers. That's what disappoints me. As if we don't have enough barriers to people understanding that our God is a god of love, we have a message that flat-out wishes ill on someone who is trying to do his job.

And, in my opinion, if that person fails at his or her job, the entire country fails along with him or her. So if you agree with that bumper sticker, you're also wishing for my failure and your own.

When someone I don't like is holding political office, I grumble, but I also pray for the person in leadership. The decisions they must make involve factors that I have no idea even exist. That job is difficult beyond belief.

So, am I supposed to say anything? The owner of that truck and I have a long history of seeing the world in different ways. Yet we've been members of the same church for nearly a decade now. It's seems like it's getting more difficult, though. He hasn't been coming to worship very much, and I suspect it's because he disagrees with some people in leadership. I refuse to shut myself off like that. It's a choice I make, and it's not always an easy one, but God created us to love others.

Even when others are behaving in ways that embarrass us.

Crazy Dog Lady strikes again: a one-two punch

This is a first for our household. I had always said just one dog at a time. But Wednesday I rescued two dogs at once.

They were both going to be euthanized. They were the only two left on the week's euth list. So they are with us now... thanks in large part to Karla! When the rescue group I had worked with on my last foster couldn't arrange to pull them, she connected me with her rescue group. A couple of hours later (pretty late into Tuesday night -- into Wednesday morning for them, because they are one time zone away), we had all the paperwork filed with the shelter and were good to do for the morning.

So... meet Crystal, an adult female:


And Pooh Bear, who is about 7 months old:


They are both good girls. If you know anyone who might fall in love with either of them, let me know in the comments!

The icky side of rescue.

I do not regret helping rescue dogs. Not one bit.

But it does get complicated sometimes.

Dustin went to his forever home late last week. Then this week, he went for a thorough checkup at his forever veterinarian's office. And he tested positive for heartworms.

Poor little sweetie boy.

That's not all that's wrong -- the vet also confirmed our suspicion that he has some kind of hip injury, and there are a couple of other things that may need attention, too. But right now, the priority is the heartworm treatment.

After I incurred some surprise veterinary expenses caring for him, a rescue coordinator recommended that I set up a ChipIn fund for Dustin. I'm not worried about recovering any of my investment, which is why I never publicized it here. My big concern is with helping him get healthy from this point forward. So I raised the target amount on the account. I know that a number of people were rooting for him to be rescued, and I'm putting this out there on the chance that they will still want to help.

Dusty, in his new backyard

Another home found

Here's Dustin on Friday night, just before we sent him off to his new home:


He's much healthier than he was when he arrived here. I wouldn't be surprised if some other issues crop up, and his adoptive mom wouldn't be surprised either, but it's a risk she's willing to take.

After we let him out of quarantine, his love of snuggling became quite apparent:


I, for one, was glad to get him out of here, because it seemed like he had imprinted on me. ("Well, you saved his life, and you nursed him back to health," says The Alpha.) Having a dog who isn't yours follow you around like you belong to him can be a little uncomfortable, especially when you are certain that yours is a two-dog household, and both positions are already filled.

So it was especially nice that when Cherrie arrived to take him to his new home, he seemed to understand that he was going with her, and there was no sign of separation anxiety. It's also good to know that I remain his Fairy Dogmother and will get to see him from time to time. He readily settled into his new digs, and was having fun with his new Jack Russell Terrier brother -- a dog who didn't have the best start in life and who seems permanently scarred by it. He won't play with my dogs, but he will play with Dustin. Their pre-adoption get-acquainted session was the first time she had seen him act like a "normal" dog. There's hope for him yet. (Maybe he just needed an Assistance Dog of his own!)

Fostering certainly isn't all smiles and tail-wagging. I'm still not sure how much longer I can take the risk of exposing our dogs to the illnesses and afflictions that foster dogs may bring with them. It helps that we commit to keeping our dogs fully vaccinated and on preventives, and that we are willing to limit contact between our dogs and fosters, but we still have to watch them for symptoms of stuff they might catch.

And when you know you've saved one life and improved another, it does feel good.

Grand... 6 grand, actually...

Photo snapped during the audience participation portion of Black Water

Well, we did indeed have a grand time last night, and we raised more than $6,100 for UMCOR's Haiti Emergency Fund. (That total would've been just over $3,000, which would be nothing to sneeze at, but at some point before the Finance Committee chair finished counting the money, an anonymous donor let him know that whatever the total, this person would match it. Awesome.) That doesn't count other gifts that were added to the offering plate in worship this morning, and still others that were designated for the same cause the previous two Sundays.

As far as the performance itself goes, if we can just make the time to go out on tour, doing the same two song sets every night for the next six months, we'll have this thing down.... (Oh, wait. That's one of many reasons I'm not a rock star.) Seriously, things did go pretty well from a musical standpoint. And it was good to see different people in the crowd, too -- not just folks from our congregation. We weren't quite at standing-room-only, but I don't think I've seen the sanctuary that full since Easter.

Twenty-one songs is a lot of work, especially when you begin by whittling the list down from 40, finding mistakes in every chord sheet, enduring waves of panic when you're certain you'll never have it ready on time, deciding exactly how to play every intro, bridge, chorus, etc. ... But I think this is the point, at least for some of us, when the pendulum swings from "This is too much trouble. Let's never do one of these again..." all the way over to, "Hey, what's our next set list going to look like?"

There's no telling when we'll actually do another concert, but I confess, I like it when the pendulum has swung over to this side.

Amos

As of Friday, Foster the Dog is being called by his real, forever name: Amos.

We didn't know he was Amos! We're glad his new people did. Things are going well for him. He has 2/3 of an acre, all fenced, and a dog to play with next door. Plus a bed and crate inside, and nice people who will take excellent care of him.

Scattered thoughts, collected.

It turns out that Foster the Dog was indeed the charmer we hoped he would be on Tuesday night. He is moving in with his new people tomorrow. I'm really pleased with this match. Our dogs will be pleased too, because although they get along well with Foster, after a week of living here he seems to be wearing on their nerves a bit.

We have made an overnight reservation at this place for a few months from now. Lovely Niece and New Nephew (he needs a better blog name) will be joining us for the hike. It's an adventure, typical of our vacationing style, but perhaps ratcheted up a notch. I've warned The Alpha that I'll likely have to stop 3 miles into it and take a whine break. (The wine break, an entirely different thing, is at the top of the mountain. Accompanied by supper.)

A couple of months after that, The Alpha is accompanying De Youts on their mission trip. This year, they've selected what he's been wishing they'd select for a few years now. I told him that if they have a shortage of responsible adult females, I could probably be persuaded to go along on this one.

We have four more band rehearsals until our gig. Given recent events, the performance will now include a love offering to benefit disaster relief via www.umcorhaiti.org. The potential it has to make a difference where so much help is needed has given me a new sense of excitement. Also, Mary Beth says she's planning to attend!

Foster Dog update

Foster (as we've been calling him -- the name he came with from the shelter just doesn't seem to fit) has an appointment this evening with prospective adopters.


He kept moving at just the wrong time for every photo I took this morning, so this is the best one I got, and he's blinking. (I happen to think dogs are cute when they get caught blinking, so I'm going with it.)

He's a good boy, and I really hope this home is a match for him. I know them, and they're good people. Good people and a good dog should be a great match. I'm praying that it will be so.

Thursday night randomosity

- I'm not sure "randomosity" is actually a word, but I don't really care about finding out.
- Haiti is on my mind. Giving through UMCOR is on my Twitter and Facebook accounts. All of the money given toward relief goes directly toward relief, not to administrative costs.
- I'm picking up another foster dog tomorrow. Yes, I'm the Crazy Dog Lady. Photos to follow, I'm sure.
- My weekend will include dog-fostering, putting together a gig binder for the concert on the 30th, more rehearsal for said concert, and the usual stuff (i.e., church and laundry).
- This point brought to you by Escapism: Tonight's back-to-back episodes of 30 Rock were amazing. Best writing so far this season!
- I know something someone else doesn't know. Just sayin', in that sing-songy voice from the playground.
- My friend Eric wrote this quite measured reaction to Pat Robertson. Thank you, Eric. My own reaction wasn't suitable for print or digital media.
- Heading bedwards now. G'night!

Confessions of a foster dog mom

Meet Homer -- this picture was taken shortly after I picked him up from a city shelter in a nearby suburb:


Yep, Homer's a pit bull. And yep, he shatters any negative stereotype you might have of pit bulls. Gentle, even-tempered, downright sweet and affectionate.

Homer was never going to be ours. It's just not practical for us to keep three large dogs for the long term (we learned that when we provided a temporary home for a friend's big 7-month-old pup earlier this year). I was only getting Homer out of the place where he had run out of time, in the worst way.

He settled right in here, though. Tuesday and The Boy were decent hosts, even with The Boy's occasional neurotic fits in Homer's direction.


He only stayed two nights at our house, but I have tons of pictures of him cuddling with The Alpha. And a few of him hanging out with me:


Homer is a Very Good Boy, a Very Sweet Boy. And, I think, a Very Cute Boy (though The Alpha admits he disagrees with me on that point).

The next person in the rescue/placement process picked him up this morning. I cried.

Yes, it was only a two-day, two-night stay. I know this. Honestly, I didn't expect him to be so darn endearing. I thought it would be easier to let him pass on through this way.

A friend sent me a message while Homer was at our house: "You're my doggy connection. FB friend from HS is moving back to TX from CT in the spring and wants a big dog. I told her I know the Harriet Tubman of big dogs. :)"

I'll be happy to send leads to my friend's friend. I may shy away from future dog-fostering, though.

I'm not sure I'm strong enough for all the letting go.

Oooh, they gave me one again!

My birthday was a couple of weeks ago, and I had a lot going on, so I forgot to share my big birthday joy:

I got another goat!!!

Yes, once again, my wonderful husband's wonderful parents got me a goat for my birthday. They got it from Heifer.org's online gift catalog, which has this to say about it:

Goats Are Great for Families

The gift of a dairy goat represents a lasting, meaningful way for you to help a little boy or girl on the other side of the world.

Goats can thrive in extreme climates and on poor, dry land by eating grass and leaves. The gift of a dairy goat can supply a family with up to several quarts of nutritious milk a day - a ton of milk a year. Extra milk can be sold or used to make cheese, butter or yogurt. Families learn to use goat manure to fertilize gardens.

There's probably somebody out there thinking, "But hey, your birthday was your birthday! Why did you want a goat?" Well, I've wanted one for years, and when I finally got one last year, it was so cool that I wanted another one. (And don't think for a minute that I'm the least bit underprivileged in my birthday haul: The Alpha got me a Phone with an i in front of it.)

If you're looking for a way to honor someone with a different kind of Christmas gift this year, this is just one of many ideas out there. As we're reminding people at worship during November and December, "Christmas is not your birthday. So instead of giving to each other, or thinking about what we want, why not give to the One whose birthday it is?"