The circle of life. I hates it.

My dog just killed somebody's baby.

We have been watching the robin who built a nest high above our backyard, in a crook of the rain gutter. We have watched her feed worms to her two babies. And yesterday after work, I saw her perched on a branch about 10 feet away, chirping, trying to convince them to fly.

This morning, I followed the usual routine, feeding both dogs their breakfast, then letting them go for a trip outside. I could see Angus takin' care of business, but Tuesday had gone around the corner. I stepped away from the window to pour myself some cereal. Angus asked to be let back in, and I obliged him, leaving the door open a crack to wait for Tuesday. That's when I heard the frantic birds.

I went outside and saw adult robins diving angrily at our side yard. Tuesday came around the corner of the house, licking her chops.

I ordered her back inside, then forced myself to go peek around the corner. Sure enough, there lay the body of a juvenile robin.

Sometimes I really, really dislike nature. I just fed that dog a nice bowl of breakfast, yet her instinct leads her to go kill something when she's not even hungry. (I'm sure if she could talk, she would argue that she's always hungry. Bitch.)

That mama bird was doing all the right things, then my selfish dog, a ball of id on four feet, ruined it. I hope she didn't kill the other one, too.

On overcoming fear

Yesterday The Boy got him some clean toofs.

Yeah, the picture isn't any good; he's not that cooperative with smiling. But the point is, he got knocked out and cleaned up. And I got past some fears.

When I dropped him off, I told the teeth-cleaner two things: That one of my friends' dogs wound up clinically dead for a few minutes because of a problem with anesthesia during a cleaning; and that with Cub, the pre-anesthesia bloodwork for her teeth cleaning was the first tip-off that there was something wrong with her liver, leading me to associate teeth cleaning with the beginning of the end for my dog. (Despite these confessions, I'd still hazard a guess that I'm not the most neurotic dog parent coming through there this week.)

And yes, everything went smoothly, with the exception of a few minutes of screaming on The Boy's part as he was waking up from the procedure. They said they've seen that happen before with heelers. We know he's very vocal, and now they do, too.

The Alpha picked him up, and was regaled with the story of what happened before The Boy's checkup on Monday. Apparently it is unusual for one of the big talking birds in the waiting room to make her way down to the bottom of the cage just to laugh at a dog. And I mean long, sustained cackling. That's what happened when The Boy and I arrived. He was extremely curious, but didn't rush the cage or anything. It must've made the vet techs' week if they were still talking about it two days later.

So, there's that. Can you tell things have been pretty calm around here if I made a whole blog post about a dog having his teeth cleaned?

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.

11th birthday

Cub, on her first day in our family.

If she were still alive, she'd be 11 years old today.

Sometimes I have a hard time believing I miss a dog this fiercely.

It's even a made-up birthday: our best guess counting back her age in estimated weeks, combined with a day significant in other months of the year. But here I am, crying about my dead dog on her made-up birthday.

Recently, I've seen car magnets shaped like a paw print, with the words "Who Rescued Who?" in the center. I wondered that about Cub and me long before anyone was selling it as a slogan. In the end, I couldn't rescue her from liver disease. Nobody could.

I'm really hoping my eyes aren't puffy in the morning. I have an optometrist appointment, and I can hear it now:

"Are your eyes always this irritated?"

"No, I just spent last night crying over my dead dog."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. When did it happen?"

"Three years ago."

**blink blink**

November of 2007 in Eureka Springs... the last "fun trip" we took with both dogs.

Angus hasn't been the same since she died. When Cub was here, he knew his place: back of the pack. He was content with it, and it worked well for everyone. Cub was his rock. Now, he doesn't know where he stands. We were hoping that when we adopted Tuesday, he would make her his beta or, failing that, accept her as his alpha, but neither scenario worked. They get along pretty well, but he won't play with her. He's kinda cranky.

I've heard that there's that dog for every dog person. The one dog who will always be elevated above all others, canonized, sainted, crowned The Best Dog That Ever Was.

I hope there's just one, because I don't plan to quit being a dog person, and there's only so much of this I can take.

Day-by-day dog

That's what Crystal is right now. Her foster "dad," M, and I are taking it day by day. He isn't going to boot her out the door on Friday (a good thing, since I have nowhere for her to go and two rescue organizations have said they can't help), but he hasn't said he's ready for her to live there forever, either.

Although he did say she has been "the perfect dog" thus far, in the time she's spent at his house.

So I'm praying for continuing perfection.

***
In other news:

- Lovely Niece's husband (who still doesn't have a blog name, but that doesn't mean I don't love him) landed a job at a national home improvement retail chain (not the orange one). He had three--three--interviews for the part-time position. He later learned that he was chosen from among 150 applicants for that one non-seasonal position. If that's what he's been up against this past year and a half, no wonder it took so long to land a job! The better news is that even though it's part-time, he does qualify for benefits. Lovely Niece doesn't get university benefits during her internship year, which begins soon, so having another source for health insurance will be especially helpful. *sigh of relief*

- We began work on the master bathroom walls. Ugh. We have a 7-foot-long mirror in there above the vanity. It's going to have to come out of there soon, and I don't know where to put it while it's down. Also, we want both bathrooms functional next time we have visitors (in just a couple of weeks), so we're going to have to watch our timing.

- Speaking of timing, the dogs know what time it is. Breakfast time. Off to fill their bowls.

Re-rescue

So a while back, I wrote about my last rescue dog, Crystal, not working out in her adoptive home. Then it seemed that the family had re-committed to working with a trainer and that things were going to be fine.

Well, that didn't last. Bottom line: Crystal needs to be re-homed. Her now-former adoptive family last night bid her a tearful farewell, and she is spending the week with my friend M. M is a teacher and has his Spring Break this week, and thus a little extra time on his hands. (He is also in the market for adopting a dog of his own, but I'm not getting my hopes up here. See me, not getting my hopes up?)

I really hated arranging for this type of thing long-distance, but that's how it works when you've moved and you still have commitments in the place you left. So my friend A did an excellent job serving as my proxy in last night's transition; she had met the family when they adopted Crystal, so she helped M with picking her up from their home. M also brought along another dog-person friend, and A said she was great to have there for support. The M-to-dog introduction went well, and after they'd had some time to get acquainted, Crystal walked, on her leash, like a normal dog, to M's car for the trip to her temporary home.

So here it is 6:00 the next morning, and I'm hoping M and Crystal had a good night. I'm also praying he falls in love with her and can't let her leave at the end of the week, but I'm not about to push that on him. She isn't what he wanted -- a Labrador Retriever or mix thereof. In fact, when he was buying a crate for her yesterday, I told him that though the crate size I had would be sufficient for her, he would really be better off buying the next size up so it would hold his future Labrador. (See me, still not getting my hopes up?)

But look at this face!

Oh, the days, they pass.

And here I am on the downhill side of February.

- Under deadline at work. I have until Wednesday 4 p.m. for a deadline that's normally Friday at 10 a.m. But I feel as though today I triumphed. I drafted the big article that all the church nerds will want to read. The rest of the words will come (a few column-inches at a time). And for help with making it pretty, I'll turn to the can-do-anything communications assistant across the hall. So tonight, instead of trying to write more of that stuff for which they pay me, I'm blogging.
- Last year it didn't bother me that I wasn't going, but this year I'm trying not to envy the folks going on the Big Event 4.0. The first two were lovely. Perhaps in year five...
- We bought Angus and Tuesday their first bag of "vibrant maturity" chow. The Boy will be 7 in April. The bag says for dogs 7+. He's no more vibrant than he was before, but then again, he's a pretty vibrant little guy. Tuesday is older, we have always guessed, but her vibrancy isn't in question, either. I just keep thinking that at this age with Cub, we were beginning our losing battle with liver disease.
- My Dear Sweet College Friend of The Jacuzzi Incident of 2010 is having her c-section in the morning. (Yes, that was the "life got a little more complicated" reference near the beginning of that post.) Deadline, schmeadline, I'll be making a run to the hospital for a visit.
- We haven't done anything to the interior of House Two since we painted the guest room and office. What remains paint-wise is in the master suite. I told The Alpha he can go ahead and buy the bedroom paint, but I haven't yet made up my mind color in the bathroom.
- When we finish the bathroom walls, we can pay someone to have the whole-house interior trim painted. It's still not enough motivation to get me to choose a color.
- Lovely Niece defended her dissertation last week. It was a breeze, with professors arguing with each other instead of asking her difficult questions. She really impressed them, as we knew she would.
- Our first trip back to Texas since we moved is coming up soon. I'm sure that will stir up a bunch of feelings and crap. Oy.
- Time for bed. Tomorrow is one of those crazy mornings in which The Alpha has a long commute and we all get up well before the sun figures out what's happening.

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.

Re-rescue needed

So the day after I wrote my last post about all the happy rescue dogs, I learned that Crystal isn't working out in her adoptive home as well as first indicated. If any of my blog readers might know someone who would take her in, please contact me. It would be best if we could find her a home with no children, no cats, and either no dogs or one dog who should weigh at least 30 pounds.

Ugh. I so want her to find a happy home without complications. Please pray that it happens. I don't even live there anymore; I can't just go get her. And bringing her to where I live now isn't a good option, as there are breed restrictions here, and our own dogs have not yet completely adjusted.

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.

Dogstuff

Sitting at the airport waiting for my flight to training in MethoVaticanCity, so I thought I'd blog (hooray for free wi-fi at LIT terminal!). This morning was absolutely lovely, and I thought the dogs deserved some more time outside than just their hurry-up-run-and-pee-get-back-in-here-you-have-no-fence-no-don't-run-after-that-rooster-and-don't-eat-that-whatever-it-is-and-don't-even-PRETEND-to-go-toward-the-road experience that's currently their typical trip outdoors.

I gave them each separate trips outside so I only had to worry with watching one dog at a time.

Tuesday chose to waller in the cool grass under the shade tree:

Angus did his share of wallering, too, and then he and I had a nice play session with his bluebell (he's still great at attempting to fly after it as it sails through the air):

I love my dogs. The Alpha's parents are really great -- they take excellent care of the dogs whether I'm there or not, so I'll have no worries about them while I'm in MethoVaticanCity. But I'm praying for a house sale soon, so I can choose their next fenced backyard and be able to let them out without guarding their every move.

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.

Changes

Lots of changes lately. I've followed the dogs to their temporary digs; we're living with The Alpha's parents until further notice. New job seems to be off to a good start. The Alpha is all alone back in Texas, keeping our house up to show-quality status. I hope it doesn't take that much longer to sell. Seriously. Not having a timeline for getting settled is probably the worst thing about this whole transition.

And, so we could have some photographic evidence of change, I took the Tueser to be groomed. First time I've done that for any dog, but she was shedding something fierce, and in a house where she's a guest. Behold, The Summer Cut!

The Jacuzzi Incident of 2010

It really doesn't begin with the Jacuzzi. It begins with my new job leading to a move across state lines, which led us to put our house on the market, which in turn led us to find a temporary place for these two:

FILE PHOTO

A sweet, sweet college friend and her family offered to keep them. Her daughter had fallen in love with them while visiting us last autumn. Between her offer to keep them and the actual arrival of said dogs at her house, life got a little more complicated. We won't go into it here, but it did factor into lowering the breaking point of the household.

I drove the dogs to my home state, spent one night with them at my friends' house, then came back to Texas. Here they are a few minutes after I left:

Because this household had never hosted dogs before, and the girl raised on the farm had in fact never had an indoor dog, we agreed it would probably be best for the humans' peace of mind if the dogs weren't allowed the run of the entire house in the absence of said humans.

So, when they left for work the next day, the spacious and lovely master bathroom it was.

We all figured I'd wind up doing some repair to door scratches by The Boy. Yes, indeed, I'll be sanding and staining their bathroom door at some point later this year. Not a huge deal. They said it already had some nicks anyway.

That evening, my dear college friend stepped out of the shower to discover a puddle of puke on her master bedroom carpet. She called, of course, because I'm far more wise in the ways of dog puke than she. After a thorough over-the-phone analysis, we determined it was probably The Boy, and was just nerves -- not totally unexpected, because The Boy has a Complex.

About an hour later, I received a text message: "I just settled in to fall asleep -- only to awaken to a very large barf from Angus."

The follow-up text: "Kevin just found pieces of soap in the pile of barf."

Subsequent texts included phrases such as, "I thought it WAS toddler-proof" and "I don't know where the frick he got the soap. It's almost like he climbed into the jacuzzi." Also, "Tuesday acts a bit ashamed of him..."

The next morning I called our veterinarian, who already knew about the move (we'd had one last checkup for Tuesday and took Angus along to say farewell, too). She prescribed some doggy downers and called it in to a pharmacy near my friends.

Before making the pharmacy run, though, my dear sweet college friend went straight home after work. It's a good thing she did, because getting there earlier conserved several gallons of water.

We will never know for certain exactly how a dog (or perhaps the combined efforts of two dogs) managed to turn on the Jacuzzi faucet.

What we do suspect, and what Dear Sweet College Friend later wished she'd photographed, is that based on the positioning of the bath towels that had been pulled off the rack and down onto the floor, they did try to build a dam after the Jacuzzi overflowed. (We are still finding that part astounding. If they could build a dam, why couldn't they have just turned the faucet back off instead?)

You see, Dear Sweet College Friend had tossed a couple of bathroom rugs into said Jacuzzi to keep them away from a certain anxiety-driven dog. So when the faucet got bumped, the water wasn't able to drain as efficiently as it would've in an empty tub. And the overflow drain just couldn't keep up. My friend discovered an abundance of water and wet fur, both freed from and attached to the dogs in question.

Two loads of laundry and one master bedroom carpet shampooing later, it turned out that the Jacuzzi Incident of 2010 did not actually cause any damage to the house. Or to our friendship.

But it did cause a rapid deployment of The Alpha's parents, who live 45 minutes away from Dear Sweet College Friend. They were there in just one hour to pick up their granddogs and all of their accompanying accessories.

Have I mentioned lately how awesome my in-laws are? Because they are.

Dear Sweet College Friend's daughter was distraught, of course. "But mama... I love those dogs!" "Mama, can I please take 'em out to pee one last time?" Oh, so sad. I'll have to take them back to visit her when I get up there.

The dogs are much calmer at the family homestead. They've stayed there with us many times, so the environment is far from foreign. And there is no Jacuzzi.

When we asked if they'd caused any damage without us there, my mother-in-law answered, "Well, they've about worn out the couch... from sleeping on it."

We saw them Sunday night and Monday morning, when we drove up for a quick house-hunting expedition. And before we left, I did give The Boy a doggy downer to cut the separation anxiety. But he hasn't needed them on a regular basis.

I move in with my in-laws at the end of the month, just before I start my new job. I'm kind of looking forward to being covered in dog fur again.

But I'm not too keen on looking for a house with a Jacuzzi.

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.

The catch-up post

- Looks like Crystal is going to her forever home tomorrow! The meeting on Saturday with her prospective family went very well.

- Packing, sorting, donating, trashing, recycling activities all continue. There's some painting still left, too, but it's minimal, touch-up stuff.

- Today was a big day in the life of the band. More on that in a separate post.

- Angus and Tuesday are going to live with a dear college friend and her family. But it's only temporary. We're only doing it because it's so much easier to sell a house without nose prints on the windows and dog fur on top of the brand-new carpet we're about to have installed. I'm going to be very impatient to get them back living with us, but in a new location.

- While I'm in Arkansas delivering them to their temporary digs, I'll also spend a few hours trying to find that new location for us to land. I'm going to look without having The Alpha there to give his opinion, which isn't typical of the way we normally operate. But that's what we're able to swing at this point, given our schedules.

- Might have to have a holy nap today. Two worship services and lunch with our guest preacher afterwards were things I was thrilled to be able to do, but dang, I'm tired.

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.

Friday Five: What is there to smile about?

Over at RevGalBlogPals, Jan writes: With the end of RevGalBlogPals' third annual Big Event, I am wondering who went and what it was like. There must be a lot of smiling from the Big Event! Hopefully, the rest of us are not frowning either.

So let us know how your past week was for you.

Write five different aspects of the week OR answer the following questions:

1. When were you smiling lately? When one of my foster dogs, Crystal, got a positive evaluation from the rescue group coordinator. I also smiled on Monday, when my friend Terry adopted Tildie, one of the dogs we had seen but hadn't been able to take the morning of our rescue transport run. Monday was the day Tildie had been scheduled to be euthanized; instead, she got a new loving home.

2. What happened unexpectedly to you this past week? Lots of stuff! Much of it unbloggable.

3. How was a catastrophe averted (or not)? I suppose the animal rescue world is just full of catastrophes, but I had one hit particularly hard this morning: I learned that one of the dogs I was supposed to help transport to foster care in another state last weekend, but who didn't get on that run and was supposed to come this week, has died from complications of her spay surgery. We can't save them all, but that doesn't mean I don't cry about the ones we lose.

4. What was the most delicious thing you ate? Yesterday my lunch included the last bit of a yummy block of Australian Cheddar that I picked up at Whole Paycheck.

5. Did you see any good movies or read any books or articles? We re-watched The Blues Brothers, just because we can. It's a feel-good classic that I will love forever.

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.

Easter foster dogs update

Our Easter celebration was great, but this post is about the fosters! Crystal and Pooh Bear (a.k.a. Poohbert) might get their own blog soon -- anything that'll help them find their home!

We've decided that Pooh Bear is actually Crystal's dog. It's our own weird little way of saying how bonded they are. It's like a sibling relationship. Crystal lets Pooh Bear clean her ears, gnaw on her paws and face, all kinds of things that other dogs couldn't get by with doing. They are really sweet together.

Pooh Bear got spayed last week, and she's spending a few more days yet in the Cone of Shame because we don't trust her not to pick at her stitches. They'll dissolve soon, though. Here's a happy little Cone of Shame shot from last night (where you can see some of the damage she and Crystal have inflicted upon the Cone):


And a pic of Crystal, taken last night, too:



For the record, here are their current standings:
- Both spayed
- Both vaccinated for rabies
- Both received their distemper/parvo booster shots (first shots were at the shelter)
- Both on HW preventive (Crystal is officially heartworm-free; no test on Poohbert yet)
- Both on flea/tick preventive
- Pooh Bear is microchipped
- Crystal is a young adult, weighing in at around 55 pounds; Pooh Bear is about 8 months old and weighed 32 pounds at her spay appointment.

Now, who has the home these dogs are supposed to be living in, and just doesn't know it yet?