My Autistic Dog

America at War by Dan Rather and the Reporters of CBS News 2003 19 oz 

Captive in Iran: A Remarkable True Story of Hope and Triumph Amid the Horror of Tehran's Brutal Evin Prison by Maryam Rostampour 2013 18 oz

The Iraq War: As Witnessed by the Correspondents and Photographers of United Press International 2003 18 oz

Jihad: The Rise of Militant Islam in Central Asia by Ahmed Rashid 2002 8oz

Total: 63 oz

Method of Disposal: Dog Shredding Them in Preparation of Recycling

Wisconsin was born to a high-strung, energetic, and stubborn young pit bull that we named Georgia, on August 19, 2015.  He was part of a large litter who was temporarily fostered by a shelter employee before coming back to the shelter to be adopted.  Soon, all but three puppies found homes.  The only ones left were the black and white ones, Wisconsin, Nevada, and Dakota.  They grew up at the shelter, became bow legged, fought off mange, and became extremely mouthy.  Volunteers grew scared of them.  Harriet and I took them all home when they hit about 10 months old, to run free with our young pup, Whiskey, until we could find them a family.

Dakota went into foster and was adopted first.  Then, Nevada was adopted.  Finally, Wisconsin went home.  They were great, but they were energetic and clumsy babies.  We were glad for some peace.  Almost one year later, Wisconsin was returned with dark, purple bruising all over him.  He had restraint marks on his wrists and bruising on his chest.  I called Harriet crying, and she let me bring Wisconsin back home.  He proceeded to act more and more strange and, ultimately, it was suggested he might have rabies.  We took him to the emergency room where it was discovered he had a foreign body.  I got a phone call from the doctor who saved him, and she was quite cagey with me.  It did not take long to realize it was because she was trying to determine if I abused the poor boy.

He had been gone 9 months, and he came back completely changed.  He is such a sweet and sleepy guy most of the time, but he is ultra sensitive to sounds, lights, changing environments, activity, and he cannot control himself when he is around water.  Show him a lake, and he will try to drown, biting onto roots at the very bottom and refusing to let go.  Turn on a hose or a blender, and his eyes will change, and he will bite you.  It is hard to explain, but it is not like your typical aggression.  He is just frantic and grabbing everything within reach and, if you are within reach, he cannot distinguish what is what.

After he bit me for using a hose one day, we realized we could not adopt him out.  We understood his triggers.  We knew he needed a routine.  We knew he had to bing the clips on the side of the grill every single time he went outside before he could go into the yard to go to the bathroom.  Who else would have the patience to learn him?  We adopted him.  He was seen by a veterinary behaviorist who said, we do not label dogs as autistic yet, but, if we did, he would be labeled autistic.  We had to keep his toys to a minimum, decrease his excitement, medicate him, and find the right balance of alone time and together time.  It has been a roller coaster, albeit absolutely worth it.

In the last month, we've had a family living with us that lost their home to a fire, and we have loved having them here.  It has changed the routine a bit, and he struggles with toddler bath time.  We've had quite a few casualties.  For a minute there, I was trying to decide if he was extremely interested in the Middle East or just flat out disdainful.  He pulled the above books from various shelves and destroyed them all, on different days.  Given, he took out a printer, paper shredder, garbage can, office chair, an old portrait of my great grandparents, and quite a few original paintings and prints that were hung on the wall.  So...maybe not.

He has an Impact crate, but it is too large to fit in his room.  We ordered him a smaller one--they are not cheap, by the by, at around $1500, but he loves them.  If you leave his crate door open, he will go in there and go to sleep.  He loves being by himself in his room or in his crate.  Just as long as you do not shut the door when something scary is happening--like a blender, vacuum cleaner, FEDEX driver, dogs on tv, headlights bouncing off the walls, on and on and on.  

He has black out curtains, Impact crates, Prozac, Clonidine, Selieo (as needed), Thundershirts, ear muffs.  I have never met a dog like him, and I have worked at a dog and cat shelter for 15 years.  He is a magical beast and highly unusual, but we love him.  Normally.  Right now, I am watching him eat my library book by book so it is a little hard, but I know I will always love him underneath all that frustration.  We all have our limits and our baggage.

 

Mutts: Shelter Stories

 Mutts: Shelter Stories By Patrick McDonnell

2008

Weight: 1.2 lbs

Method of Disposal: Donating

I remember lining the dog's cages at the shelter with newspaper and unfolding the comics to see a Patrick McDonnell strip many mornings.  This one reminded me of one of my favorite dogs of all time, Tenchi, who had to wait years to find her home, but when she did, it was the best home.  She has since passed away, and they have adopted again.  I posted this one on her cage while she was at the shelter because no one would look at her since she barked so much in her cage, and they thought she was unfriendly.  She was absolutely the sweetest girl and was so quiet when she got out and, later, when she was in a home.  It can be hard to know what behaviors from the kennels will stick and which ones will go away with time, exercise, training, love, patience.  I just knew that once she was out of the kennels she would be great though.  I needed to get someone else to see it.

In the end, it was someone doing community service who was around long enough to get to know her, and he took the chance on her. And, I love him for it.

Another memory I have is from 14 years ago.  I walked into the vet clinic, and saw a beautiful brown pit bull, scared and despondent in her cage.  There was blue painter's tape above the bars with the name "Hershey" written in sharpie.  She was the color of chocolate, of course.  I thought to myself, "that is my 3rd dog", and then I quickly shook my head and inwardly rolled my eyes--absolutely not.  I did not want another dog with my boy Phoenix being so old and already having a rocky transition with Sergei (Serg/Sir Gay/Nader/Nader Nader Alligator/Sergio/Asshole/The Jackass/The Criminal/Sergei Ivanovich McKelvey/My Soulmate), coming into the home.  I had been at the shelter maybe 7-8 months, and I was still learning so much.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I still am learning now, after all these years in rescue.  I guess that never stops.  But, I had never seen a dog like "Hershey" before.  I cannot tell you now exactly why I found her so striking.  Maybe it was because my metaphorical heart knew, and the rest of me did not.

I remember sitting on the steps in intake with someone from the old leadership team.  They told me that she was abandoned, tied to the gate on the coldest day in December, but that we could not keep her at PAWS.  They had tucked her away in the clinic while they tried to think of an alternative.  It was a different time then.  She told me that they would rather euthanize her than send her to animal control, where she would surely be euthanized, but she would be so much more fearful as she left.  Now days, we love and support our animal control, and we do not see a dog going there as being worse than death.  So much has changed, not only with animal controls all over the country, but with us, at the smaller, non-government funded facilities.  And thank goodness.

I was told that I would get five years of heartworm preventative, and that she would be spayed and vaccinated at no cost if I would just take her as an individual and foster her until another placement could be found.  They would help me.  I did it because I could not stand to think of that beautiful creature dying for what?  Because she was a pit bull?  She was spayed, and they discovered she had 9 puppies.  And then, I took her home.  My then girlfriend, Vallan, tried to name her "Le Chien Nikita" and we compromised on "Madeleine" (Lion/LyLy/Mattie-Lion). My dear friend, Tracy, told me her ears were something special, like satellites and, when I wanted to know how she was feeling, I needed to only pay attention to those ears.  She has not been wrong.

I had not introduced Madeleine to either of my dogs, and I was winging the whole thing all the way.  By some miracle, she always did well with Phoenix, thank goodness.  He was an old man and had no interest in other dogs, and he deserved peace.  She mostly did well with Sergei,  but Sergei and her were hot and cold, and the cold would present itself in these rare but scary, shocking, and sudden dog fights that would cause me to scream and panic, while frantically pulling them apart.  No one was ever seriously injured, and I know now that is because of them and not just me.  I have many dogs with dog aggression who are a lot more determined and serious about it, and they have been wonderful dogs, but there is no way they will be making any canine friends.

My girlfriend at the time once through beer all of us to break the two of them up.  It did not work, but we were all wet, and I was trembling and worried about what we would do next.  I could not bear it if she hurt Sergei.  I was really uninformed at the time.  I learned over the years that Lion was dog intolerant and would be aggressive to other dogs that jumped on her or tried to play.  Sergei was a resource guarder with food and toys.  Lion was a resource guarder only with other dogs with food and sometimes water.  They both were wary of strangers, but Sergei would actually bite you if you took something away from him or got under the bed (his self claimed space) to grab something, but Lion would not.  I learned to always keep them in separate rooms when I was not there to supervise and to never give them treats or food together.  I learned how to communicate with them better.  Inadvertently, they learned that I would lose my mind if they fought, and they did ultimately stop.  They also learned each other.  If Lion approached the water bowl, Sergei would walk away and come back when she was done.  If Sergei had a tennis ball, she would not try to take it but, if she had a plush toy, he would not try to take it from her.  They worked out this whole system, and they compromised on so much.

This is not how it goes for all dogs, and I do not recommend forcing a dog aggressive dog to get along with other dogs.  It can be dangerous and heart wrenching. But, I do recommend taking a chance on loving a dog that doesn’t love other dogs or doesn’t exhibit the behavior you are use to (but can be kept safely in the community). It is 100% worth it. They need you more then any other dog at the shelter, and many of them will love you fiercely. They will absolutely teach you a lot, and you will love them fiercely too. 

Madeleine was just tolerant enough, and both of their triggers were really easy to work out, with some time. Sergei is the only dog I think Lion has ever truly loved, though she tolerated a handful of others within reason, because her moms work in rescue. I catch her spooning with him now, and I did even before her mind started to go. Now, he makes her feel safe. She lays close to him so she won't fall off the bed with her poor mind, bad vision, and hearing, it is an absolute necessity for her at night when we all go to bed.

She is scared of going outside at night, and she will not go to the bathroom without Sergei there. He is very tolerant of her needs and does not even growl (though he will groan) when she stumbles all over him and steps on his face. I never would have believed it circa 2008-2015. They have not fought in ages, and I do not expect they ever will again, though I am always sure to separate them when I am not there and do all the things I have always done to ensure they get along and are happy. I suspect they would be fine, maybe even better than fine. They have really worked out their differences, but Harriet and I agree. It is not worth the risk. They done so well all this time.

Unfortunately, before Vallan and I knew that Lion did not like dogs, she took her to a friends house to play with their smedium dog, Lucy.  Lion, apparently, hopped like a bunny, grabbed the dog in her mouth, and started shaking her.  Vallan got in the middle of it and was determined to break them up and save our friend's dog.  Not surprisingly (she was a determined and passionate person), she was able to break them up, but she got bit in the process.  Lucy was totally fine, but Vallan had to go to the doctor.  

All the support I had been offered went away.  I was told to euthanize her.  There were too many friendly pit bulls dying to hold onto an aggressive one.  The vet I assisted in spay/neuter surgeries was angry with me for not listening to reason.  The trainer was more gentle and offered alternatives but, ultimately, agreed that euthanasia might be the best option.  And the thing is, neither of them were wrong really.  In some situations, there are dogs that are truly unsafe to adopt out, but they weren't right about my Lion. I just knew it was dog aggression and that she had redirected on Vallan but was not dangerous.  Vallan agreed.  

We kept her and began looking for a home for her.  We made flyers, contacted the pit bull group that everyone vouched for (but was later shut down after a Fox 5 Investigation).  We posted her on social media and told people in the line at the coffee shop about her.  There was no one looking for a dog aggressive pit bull with a bite history.  I was so frustrated.  I did not want to keep her.  I remember saying that, "she was the only dog I ever met that I did not like."  I was resisting her, but it was all so ridiculous, because Lion was and became the best dog.  She was well behaved, protective, loving, playful, loyal.  So, we gave up looking for a home.

I love everything about Madeline. I loved her then, all the years in between, and I love her now, more than I could possibly describe here. She is 15 years old and has developed cognitive dysfunction and has serious mobility issues from muscle wasting. I wish so much that Harriet and I could soothe her mind and strengthen her legs. When I most felt alone, and I was at my breaking points, I always had Lion and Sergei to soothe and strengthen me. Phoenix had passed away of a heart attack some time after Vallan moved out and, in time, the three of us became a true pack and a family. I stayed and fought for my life because I could not imagine letting them down. No one had wanted either of them. Who would possibly take care of them if I did not?

The deal was that if Vallan and I ever broke up, she would take Lion, and I would take Sergei and Phoenix. Phoenix (P-Beast/Feanie/Beast) was my childhood dog after all, but the way life worked out, she would only have been able to take Phoenix, and I would never let him go.

I am so glad.

I’m so glad I fell for it and took Madeleine home, though I don’t recommend getting people to rescue that way. I’m so glad no one else adopted her when they had the chance. I’m so glad we could see past her dog aggression and know that she was not human aggressive, though maybe wary of strangers. And, I am so glad I ended up with custody of all three dogs, though, at the time, I felt overwhelmed. Vallan sent "dog support" and always loved them. It is funny to me now to think about how worried I was, after all the dogs Harriet and I have fostered, rescued, worked with, and even adopted. Three dogs? We have five now, and they are not "normal" dogs!

Lion met Harriet maybe four years after Lion met me, and they’ve loved each other ever since. I can forgive Lion for considering Harry to be her favorite, as she has been my favorite human too. So, I understand.

Madeleine has been the best girl, and almost everyone who has met our pack has considered her the favorite because she is so sweet, loyal, and playful, but also, she is the best behaved pup in the pack.

I’ve never had a dog love me like Lion has. Until her cognitive dysfunction took over, she would do anything to protect me. Unless Harriet was around, and she had to choose. Then, she would choose Harriet, and that was perfect because I am protective of both of them. It is hard watching her age and change, but I am so grateful for the opportunity.

Now, we have been battling with the knowledge that she will need to be euthanized before this gets worse, but it is hard to admit that, after all the medications, food, the expensive Impact crate , all the love and attention and thoughtfulness. She never had to be crated before, but she started hurting herself when we left. My dad began to call her "The Termite" (He is responsible for "The Criminal" too), as she was eating our new house from the inside out. This was not a trajectory we expected. Over the last year, she has begun having accidents in the house 2-3 times a day after being a housebroken dog all her life. She will chew on the window frames and base boards if we let her free roam when we leave. She is our sweet girl, and we know she cannot help it. We just take her out often and try to make her feel safe. But, it is hard to see her like that and know she is scared too.

She panics and hurts herself when we leave so we have her on anti-anxiety medications that might take the edge off, and the crate does help a little. Maybe. We play calming music and sometimes use diffusers with lavender oil. She has been restless at night and now she is restless anytime she is not in her bedroom. Her legs sometimes spasm, and she gets up with a start and takes off, but she can't "take off" anymore so she will fall and then panic and not be able to get up without help. It is shattering our hearts to watch her, but we've been able to find ways to bring her happiness even as she forgets everything and we have mom ears for when she is struggling, even when we got COVID and a fever and thought we could only sleep. If she was struggling, we were up and lifting her and telling her to slow her roll. It was okay. She is no longer wary of strangers and loves them. She no longer knows the words/commands she once knew. Her whole life revolves around eating and when she can get her next treat. She has become fixated on food. She gets confused sometimes when trying to figure out doorways or turns. She will completely fall, splayed out, if she is even accidentally nudged by Sergei or one of us.

We said we wanted to say goodbye to her before she did not recognize us anymore. We did not want her to feel like she was with strangers when the time came, but there are times where she clearly does not know us now. Most of the time, I believe she does know she loves us and feels safe with us, but when she doesn't, you can see her get scared and confused. She almost "snaps out of it" when the recognition finally comes--usually from your smell, or your voice, or something she is used to hearing you say even if she does not know what it means. She has no muscle and falls over her own feet, Benebones on the floor, the weight scale, a piece of fluff, pretty much anything. And, if she falls, she cannot often get up. We cannot leave her alone because it is torture for her.

And yet, I cannot imagine living in a world that does not include her. At this point, that does not revolve around her. I know that we have to, and that it is not fair to her to make her suffer now that she is truly suffering more than she is not. We are supposed to say goodbye to her Tuesday, at home, but I keep telling myself and Harriet that we can cancel it, but I know we cannot and Harriet knows we cannot.

I worry about Sergei. He is also fifteen and is wonky after a bout of vestibular. How will he handle losing Lion? I've always said he was a sociopath, so he might be okay, but I do suspect that they love each other deeply after all these years. I thought as they aged, their relationship and Sergei's attitude would get worse but, like I have been so many times, I was wrong.

Tonight, when I was pulling up her breakfast for tomorrow, and adding all her "powders and potions," I realized that, once she is gone, I will miss the whole process of feeding her because, even though there are calming probiotics, fish oils, Clonidine, Prozac, Galliprant, Dasequin, Gabapentin, and it is changing all the time with new medications are coming and old ones are leaving. While I am pulling up all these things, I know she is still alive. And, when I am not, I know that she is gone and that we might have bought time, but there are no miracles other than that we all found each other eventually. I know that there is no amount of money or effort that can turn this around or change a forever goodbye. It is unbearable. Harriet and I use to agree not to cry in front of her when this all started. We did not want our sadness to increase her anxiety, but now she does not even notice tears or tissues or whimpers or cries. She is always seemingly trying to figure out who and where she is and what she is suppose to be doing.

One of the kindest things we will ever do for our dogs is to let them go. And while it can be scary, because you do not want to take away any bit of happiness or hope from them, and you cannot ask them what they want, you know there really is no other option. It goes against every desire in my body to imagine laying in bed without feeling her body in between mine and Harriet's. She sleeps there now, with Sergei at the foot of the bed to feel secure. I need to see her senior lady tongue, hanging out of her mouth while she snores. On what planet will I be that now she cannot spoon me or Harriet when we are not spooning her. When I was single and living alone, she would always through her paw over me and hold me like a human, and it was oddly comforting. I can see her at 2 years old, leaping, and running, and chasing her teaser toy--a toy on the end of a rope on the end of the stick. I can see her at 4, when we used to go hiking every weekend. One time, we almost went over a waterfall, but I grabbed her by the harness with super human strength and pulled her out of the water just in time to get her back onto sturdy ground and then scramble up after her. Was she six at the horse farm, when Sergei went missing, and my world was falling apart, and I could not function, but she was right there, concerned, and ready to comfort Harriet and I. We took her on walks all over, hoping her female marking would give Sergei a path to follow home, and maybe it did. Who knows? But, he came back, and it was the happiest day of my life. She loved Kong Wubbas and then she loved those weird, round Bark Box toys--the Olympian in particular. We ordered her another after her first one was destroyed. She loved the toys that had smaller toys inside of them she had to pull out. She loved Harriet's mom, and her gifts from England. She loved everything about us, and we continue to love everything about her.

There are so many stories, so many beautiful and happy moments. There are thousands of pictures and videos, but there will never again be another Lion. I am grateful I got to spend her life with her but, right now, I am just scared and heartbroken and dreading Tuesday, but feeling like it might also be too long for her to wait, and hoping she will rally, as dogs do, right before the end.

Striking at the Roots: A Practical Guide to Animal Activism

 Striking at the Roots: A Practical Guide to Animal Activism by Mark Hawthorne

2010

Weight: 12.8 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating

To think, I have been carrying this book around all this time, and it is essentially PETA propaganda.  I cannot think of an animal rights group that has less of my support, despite our common disdain for factory farms, research with live animals, and other animal abuse.  Their tactics have made them a laughing stock and made animal rights activist everywhere look bad.  Not to mention, their open disdain for no-kill shelters, which goes directly against the work I have been doing the last 14 years.  They could not be more wrong about what no-kill looks like to me.  In addition to that, Best Friends is well on the road to proving them wrong on a large scale.  Given, they will never see it that way, because they would rather see an animal euthanized than to be adopted out as a companion animal to most people.  Always out for the shock value and getting news coverage, they will do all sorts, like boycott Jimmy Carter for fishing, send naked women to protest in the streets, petition to change "ham lake" to "yam lake," and show you graphic, brutal pictures to scare you into doing the right thing.  

A lot of people seem to like this book and, if I could manage to step back from hating how often PETA is used as an example and/or cited, I guess I could see that some of it might be useful for a completely green, young person, who has not yet done any activism or been to any protests.  Within this book, there is an incredibly basic introduction to civil disobedience.  In that way, it is a touch useful.

Either way, to each their own.  I am donating it because everyone has the right to choose how and who they want to engage with and, God knows, we do need more animal rights' activists.  The things we do to animals in our society (and in almost every society) are deplorable and overwhelmingly sad.  We are brutal and, with factory farms in particular, we are worse than heartless.  We are cruel and inhumane torturers.  I know THAT sentence makes me sound like PETA but, in that case, it is true.  The people at those facilities are also treated terribly so it is should be no surprise that the animals are.

How to Live With a Neurotic Dog

 How to Live With a Neurotic Dog by Stephen Baker
1994
Weight: 16 oz
Method of Disposal: Lending Library               

                                                                                      

I spend an overwhelming amount of time with neurotic dogs, and I adopted the most neurotic dog I ever met.  I have met thousands of dogs during the most stressful times of their lives so that is no small statement.  The dog I adopted is on Prozac, Gabapentin, and Trazadone for his anxieties.  It is not surprising that someone saw this book and thought of me.  I enjoyed the simple jokes and light heartedness of it--much of my work with pets is far too heavy--but the pictures were the best part for sure.  

Horses With a Mission

 Horses With a Mission: Extraordinary True Stories of Equine Service by Allen and Linda Anderson
2009
Weight: 10 oz
Method of Disposal: Mailing to my niece 

Animal rescue has ruined me for books like these.  I get judgmental when people make stupid mistakes or see what they want to see with an animal, while missing what is clearly, actually happening.  I cannot suspend my rescue brain long enough to just enjoy the read!  Apparently, even with horses.

That being said, I enjoyed hearing about so many horses being rescued, loved, and cared for, especially for the length of their natural lives.  I hate how so many horses are given up or euthanized once they are no longer seen as useful.  

I am hoping my niece will enjoy this book.  I know she is not all that keen on reading yet, but she loves all things horse.  I love all things rescue.  It seemed like a perfect combination and so I have mailed it to her.   

Giselle's Bucket List

Giselle's Bucket List by Lauren Fern Watt
2017
Weight: 1 lb
Method of Disposal: Lending library at a shelter

This ended up being my beach read in Sanibel because I had absolutely no time for reading, and this is something you can fall in and out of easily.  It reads quickly and is full of pictures of an incredible and sweet mastiff, Gizelle.  The author is a young, confused woman who is trying to figure out her place and meaning in the world--I can still relate to that, and I am just under ten years older than her!

 I am only slightly kidding.  I remember being 25 years old and being desperate for meaning and answers.  It was very frightening and it all felt so urgent.  I only made it through because of my dogs (and ultimately meeting my wife).  It is a scary age to own a pet because a lot of 25 year olds cannot afford the medical bills or know what it takes to truly commit to a dog for life, but I believe it is a time when many people would benefit from having a pet.  Lauren clearly did.

I, of course, cried when Lauren had to say goodbye to Gizelle and could absolutely empathize with her.  My heart broke.  6 years is definitely not long enough.  I am glad Gizelle had Lauren and her family and friends though.

I don't know that this book had a real trajectory.  The author tried to use the bucket list as the glue that bound it all together, but the bucket list did not really seem to be the big, powerful thing.  It seemed like she tried to fit the list into the book instead of the list driving the book.  I think, like in life, she was confused about what to do with herself, her feelings, and her grief and so she wrote a book.  I think she did a good job for where she is at in life, though it did not speak to me as much as it might have when I was younger.  I can still remember and relate. 

I also appreciated her sharing the difficulties she faces loving an addict/her mom.  That was heavy and sad and something else the author was trying to make sense of.  Her honesty in and of itself was helpful, and you could see the love shine through the sadness and frustration in her acknowledgements at the end of the book.  This book is not going to teach most people anything, including the author, but it is a sweet love letter to the dog Lauren adored so deeply and a good peek into what it feels like to be twenty something and not know what you are doing with your life, relationships, and career.

A Dog's Purpose

A Dog's Purpose: A Novel for Humans by W. Bruce Cameron
2011
Weight: 10.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Lending Library at animal shelter

I read this late at night when my wife was asleep, and I bawled my eyes out, heaving, and whimpering without waking her up at least two, possibly three, times.  The book was much like a Hallmark movie with a story line guaranteed to be an emotional roller coaster for anyone with a heart, but there is no particular depth and the story is not really a surprise.  Everything is expected.  I read it while also going through vet visits with our older dog who we lost the night after I finished this book.  That really upped the ante for me and made it to where I could not blog about this book for a minute afterwards.

This is not a book I am likely to recommend because it was kind of like television for me.  I enjoyed it, and it captured my interest, but it is not something that will change my life or that made me connect on any deep, human level.  It was not outstanding as a work of art.  All that being said, I would not discourage anyone from reading it either.  It WAS entertaining, and it did make me feel things.  If you want to read a story about a loyal and "good" dog and his relationship to people from his own perspective then why not?  Pick it up.  See what you think.

Cesar's Way

Cesar's Way: The Natural, Everyday Guide to Understanding and Correcting Common Dog Problems by Cesar Millan

2006

Weight: 12 oz

Method of Disposal: Recycling

I am tempted to burn this thing just to ensure that no one tries to get it out of my recycling bin but, with all the natural disaster surrounding us, I am not sure I should risk adding to the problem--either by not recycling or by burning down my neighborhood!  As a shelter manager, I cannot begin to describe the harm done by Cesar.  So many adopters assure us that they will be great homes for our pups because they use all of Cesar's methods and they are THE Alphas in their homes.  They do not know that every last one of us is cringing.  We try to gently, without embarrassing them, lead them in another direction and encourage them to see a professional dog trainer that is more modern, more positive.  We know that being uneducated does not mean that they will be bad dog owners in the long run, but we also know that if we let them walk out the door and use Cesar tactics on their new dogs that many of them will come back with a set of issues that is different and more challenging that the ones they might have left with.

It is not common that a dog is euthanized for aggression at our shelter.  We see a trainer that specializes in working with aggressive dogs, and we try to screen and prep our adopters with all the information and everything we know.  We do have to say goodbye to them sometimes and one of the consistent things I have seen is that these dogs have often been through some fairly intense Cesar-style training and that it has broken the dog's spirit.  When they see people they see someone alien who does not have the faintest idea how to communicate with them.  There is something broken in these dogs that ,when you start to become aware of it, will make you break down into tears because you will feel the guilt, the disappointment, and the shame of a shelter worker who knows there was a different way.  It must be incredibly frustrating for these dogs to live each day with their families, trying to express themselves in so many creative ways and the only thing that makes people listen is what will ultimately get them surrendered and/or euthanized, and that is biting.  It is a last resort for many when they first begin trying to communicate but, by the time it becomes their go-to, you have a real problem.

I know there are people out there who use Cesar's methods or methods like them and have great success in molding the dog that they have always envisioned having.  Many dogs are so amazing that they learn and love us in spite of us.  That is often described as the magic of dogs.  Unfortunately, it is the intelligent, the fearful, and the aggressive dogs that usually do the worst with this type of training, and it is those dogs that people are most commonly willing to seek outside help from trainers for.  There are a lot of trainers out there that use old school methods of punishment and dominance, and there are many people who are not even certified but, after having read books like these and working with their own dogs, feel like they are experts and can help you.  These people seem to be drawn to working with aggressive cases.  I do not know why they are drawn to it--maybe it is the challenge--but I can understand why the dog owners are so desperate for a fix that they will try anything, even if it does not sit right with them.  It breaks my heart to see a loving owner who never thought they would give up on their dog, who has funneled so much time, energy, and money into mis-training their dog, come into the shelter in defeat.  All of those resources could have been used in other, more successful ventures but, by then, the owner is burnt out and cannot hear it.  Sometimes, in rare cases, the dog has given up too.

Cesar is right that dogs need exercise and that being calm and collected is essential to communicating with your dog.  That is what you might read that is useful in this book.  The things that might cause harm are assuming that your dog is like a wolf, that you and your dog are having a power struggle to be the more dominant one, that flooding is a useful tool in overcoming a dog's fears, and Cesar might even encourage you to read the wrong things in your dog's body language.  For some dogs, they will continue to be the loving, wonderful pups they were born to be with a little extra fear of their owners but, for other dogs, these methods can make them react and become dangerous.  There is a reason his show comes with the warning not to try his methods at home.  I would recommend you don't.  And, when given a copy of his books or one of his cds, do not pass it along.  If you read it, please also talk to other dog trainers and read other books to see if something feels a little more right for you and your pets.  I think that many people know in their gut something is wrong with his method, but they want so badly to see a change in their pet that they push that down and dominantly proceed ahead without listening to their own dog.  A relationship is built on mutual trust and respect, and it cannot be maintained without good communication.  Your relationship with your dog is not different.

San Francisco Panorama

McSweeney's No 33 San Francisco Panorama
2009
Weight: 3.4 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donated to Goodwill

I see hard things every day.  I watch baby kittens die for reasons completely unknown to us as humans, though mama cat seems to know which will live and which won't.  We fight nature.  I watch dog's hearts break into thousands of pieces while their owners drop them off and don't look back.  A mom telling her children in a chipper tone, "kiss your dog goodbye but don't touch him with your lips!"  Dogs with chemical burns all over their body.  Dogs who will live but are currently so sick that the life seems to leave their eyes, and they just lay in a heap in a cage no matter how much affection you shower on them.  I see dogs and cats being misunderstood. Every. Day.  People say, "that dog is just mean."  Really, she is just terrified and having the worst 6 months of her entire life.  I jump from one broken heart to the next to the next to the next.  This description is of just some of the animals I cared for this week.  Sometimes, the animal will be busting at the seams with gratitude and joy, which is wonderful and, yet, still so sad that they expect so little out of life that 15 minutes with me is enough to change their world.

I rarely break down.  I always power on.  After 10 years you would think I had seen it all, but I still get surprised almost weekly.  Then something not surprising at all, that I have seen many times before, will hit me with all the force of my first day all those years ago and my stomach will turn and my breath will leave me.  It catches me completely off guard.  The other day we sent a senior mastiff to be spayed.  She'd had many many litters, but we had her for awhile and she showed no signs of pregnancy.  She's old and ready to retire.  The vet tech brought her back, and the dog had the most forlorn expression.  The tech said, "She had one big baby in there.  She couldn't have passed it anyway." A solitary puppy.  But it was the word "big" wasn't it?  Or the expression on the dog's face?  Or the fact that she would have to "sleep it off" in a kennel all by herself along with all the other suffering pets.  No peace, no giant dog bed in a cozy home with doting humans.  She was truly and completely on her own.  More alone now, as her one big baby would have died or had to been euthanized after the spay.  No one expected to find that baby. She likely did not expect to lose it.  She just woke up, and it was gone.  Maybe it was painful but a relief or maybe it was devastating,  Her face seemed to tell me it was the ladder.

I wanted to bring her home but, with 5 dogs of my own and 3 foster dogs, all of which had made my stomach turn at some point, I knew I had nothing left to give her and, even if I could take her home, I would have to leave all the other broken hearts behind.  I covered her in a warm blanket from the dryer, pet her, spoke gently and then left with my partner to try to rescue two feral kittens who had been abandoned at the fire department.  No time to cry or to register what had happened to that beautiful mastiff.  It haunts me, like so many other things, though she was much happier today when I saw her just a couple days into her recovery.  I am so ready to see that dog go home and know that her new family will not have to carry the sadness of having seen her that day.  That they will be able to look at her and love her with pride and not the guilt of closing the cage and walking away from her on what may have been the worst or one of the worst days of her entire life. 

Strider

Strider by Beverly Cleary
2000
Weight: 4.8 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving in a Lending Library

I am reading children's book in between all of my others.  I need something a little less heavy from time to time to get by.  Working in rescue, every day feels like a life and/or death day.  Survival, Fight or Flight, the best and the worst of people.  Living under a Trump Administration is like an ongoing nightmare.  Besides, with my eyesight going, the print is a little larger ;). 

I remember reading Cleary all the time as a kid, though I did not read Stryder.  It was nice to revisit her work and pleasantly surprising to read about the rescue of an abandoned dog.  It was not my favorite Cleary book by far.  That might be the Mouse and the Motorcycle, Dear Mr. Henshaw, or it might be one of the Ramona books.  I am pretty sure the mouse wins.

Rescued

Rescued: Saving Animals from Disaster: Life-Changine Stories and Practical Suggestions
Allen and Linda Anderson
2006
Weight: 1 lb
Method of Disposal: Bringing to the shelter for staff and volunteers

I read this book the second I got it, and I loved it.  I kept it since then so I could study it and learn it in case it would apply to my work and life passion for rescuing animals.  I am recognizing now that all of the information I have collected, read, and watched about saving animals would do more good if more people had access to it.  I cannot force anyone to read it, but they may want to pick it up if it was available.  I know I use to love reading my old manager's copies of Animal Sheltering Magazine.

This particular book is about the people who took care of the animals following Hurricane Katrina and what was learned from that experience.  It is written in hopes that in future natural disasters we will be more prepared to handle the outcome and to prepare for it before it happens.  I absolutely recommend it.

In other news, H and I picked up an adorable little dog running down the highway today.  He had a piece of a tether attached to his neck, is unneutered, is very skinny, and is covered with fleas and ticks.  The poor guy.  All he has done is slept since he made it back to the house.  He ate out on the sidewalk when we caught him. He was running up the sidewalk when H's boss called us.  We love him already and are optimistic that his life is about to get a whole lot better once we get him the appropriate care.  We are currently calling him "Andy" and "The Tick."  Trust me, they suit him.

Dogtripping

Dogtripping: 25 Rescues, 11 Volunteers, and 3 RVs on Our Canine Cross-Country Adventure
By David Rosenfelt
2013
Weight: 13.6 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating to AKS

This book puts my crazy to shame.  He calls the 25 rescues he drives cross country a small amount considering the numbers they had in the previous years.  How do you give 25 dogs enough attention?! Even if they are almost all seniors, you do have a lot more money than me, and your partner is game.  Maybe it is something you have to see to believe.  They take in mostly large dogs too.

This book was a gift from a dog enthusiast friend of mine who was moving up north.  If it weren't for her, I do not imagine I would have ever stumbled on it.  The author is a mystery writer and, clearly, a dog lover/rescuer. 

And after giving you that brief synopsis, I better go to bed.  It is almost 4 am and after taking care of my personal zoo tomorrow morning I need to be back at the shelter to help take care of that whole crew.  If I am not careful, I will be asleep in a kennel having hoarding nightmares.  Sleep tight everybody!
 

Loyalty Unleashed

Loyalty Unleashed: Pit Bulls and the People Who Love Them  by Sue Torres
2014
Weight: 1.2 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donating to the AKS

This beautiful beast is named Pongo, and he is available for adoption!  He is around 1 year old, and he loves dogs, cats, and people of all ages.  Let me know if you are interested!

It has been 6 months since I last wrote on this blog.  So much has changed since my promotion to shelter manager and since I got married.  The number one change is that I am at work all day and night.   I get home very late and then want to spend my last hour or two with my wife.  Hence, the drastic drop in my reading and blogging.  Besides, with her in the U.S. how many people left are out there are reading this thing?

It has been a very difficult year at the shelter and very stressful for me, but it has also been wonderful.  Adoptions are up, and we have adopted out every single dog that had been there for a year or longer.  We adopt out many more pit bulls now, which is my main goal in life.  There is a lot to be proud of.  We have taken in 640 animals, and we have adopted out 585!  That is over 100 more than last year.  I have met a lot of wonderful new volunteers and staff.  I have learned a lot about the people I have worked with for years.  And I have learned a lot about myself as a leader.  Here's to hoping 2015 is even better and that I am able to improve on my weaknesses and those of the shelter to save even more lives.

No Home for Shannon

No Home for Shannon by Marilyn D. Anderson
1997
Weight: 2 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating to AKS

I love reading children's books, and I cry every single time I read about a rescued dog.  It really does not take a lot.  I have also been working A LOT of overtime and hardly have time to read so this was the perfect book to pick off the shelf for a rare, relaxing bath I had the other day.  I love to think about kids learning how to take care of a rescue dogs at an early age!  I suppose I will pass this on and hope a child gets it this time. :) Maybe one twenty years younger than this kid.
 

The Encyclopedia of Animals

The Encyclopedia of Animals  Harold G. Cogger
2002
Weight: 5.2 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donating

I am getting rid of this book for the same reason I got rid of the Sharks and Whales one from earlier today.  This one is only slightly more difficult to let go because it has all sorts of animals in it, including adorable baby hedgehogs and platypuses.  Who ever gets to see a baby platypus in real life?!  There is a polar bear on the cover, which makes my heart swoon.  It is so difficult to handle when one comes to the realization that polar bears may become extinct in our lifetime due to global warming.  They are such beautiful, big, strong bears.

It is really amazing to think about how many different types of life there are on the planet and, no matter how many times I look through books like this over the years, there is always one I have never heard of, seen, or imagined.  I hope someone who truly loves animals and the Earth finds this book super cheap and loves it as I have or more.
 

Bunnicula Strikes Again

Bunnicula Strikes Again  by James Howe
2001
Weight: 2 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating to AKF

Papi died today, almost two weeks from the day her sister, Prim, died.  It appeared to be quite suddenly.  Rodents have short lifespans, but they really are amazing creatures.  I love watching the mom and daughter (Emily and Wonder) I adopted recently.  They seem to seek each other out for comfort, and I love watching them burrow down beneath their fluff. 

As a child, I loved Bunnicula.  I believe I first purchased Bunnicula from a Scholastic Book Fair--something else that really excited me as a child.  I remember pouring over the catalogues of books and choosing all of the ones I really wanted, showing it to my parents, and them telling me there was no way.  I would need to narrow it down.  Way down.  I remember reading Bunnicula and other chapter books written from the point of view of the animals, and I was in awe.  I loved them and wanted to be surrounded by animals, small and large. 

Now, I am. 
 

Marley and Me

Marley and Me: Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog by John Grogan
2008
Weight: 12 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating

 

Today, My Beautiful Baby Girl, Bayah, went into a trial adoption period with a very nice woman from work.  I was more of an emotional wreck about it than I have been in the past.  I had consistently been tormenting myself, going back and forth, about whether or not I should adopt her.  For once, my dogs seemed like they would allow it.  I could not even bring myself to say goodbye to her.  When I brought her in this morning, I had no idea she would be leaving this afternoon.  I, admittedly, went and top-secret, stealth cried on the walking trail.  It is always difficult to let a foster go but, as you may have read in past posts, often it is more clear to me that I am doing the right and necessary thing.  Bayah will have a wonderful home with this woman.  I do not doubt that, I just question my heart.  I loved her intensely.  Did I let her go because it was best for her?  Because I was afraid to take on more responsibility?  Because I was scared of being so connected to a foster?  I don't know.

 

 

 

Bayah (then Beau) was rescued with a single puppy, Aries, over a year ago.  They went into foster care with Harriet and Connor.  Aries got an amazing home with an incredibly kind, warm, loving man and Bayah went home with someone else.  She was fed a poor diet and returned to the shelter a year later overweight, with 6 teeth, hair loss, and looking like she had aged by at least five years.  We had nowhere for her to go at the shelter, but I could not just watch Harriet's foster walk back out the door without knowing she would be safe.  I took her home because I could not bare the thought of Harriet going through the emotional trauma of hearing what happened to her foster and not knowing the outcome.  I took her home because I loved her the second the woman said she had been cared for by a British couple. I would like to say it was before that, but I had hardened my heart.  How many other animals had come in before her that we did not have room for that day?  She embodied the love I felt for someone else.

 

 

I had her for a month, and I fell hard for her.  I loved her for who she was, a lazy, easygoing Chihuahua that felt like an overgrown potato in my hands.  I could bring her with me anywhere.  She played with my friend's dogs--okay, she did not play, but she could be around them, watching them warily or ignoring them.  She was the perfect co-pilot in the car.  She cuddled, burrowed, and snugged like no other.  Most importantly, my dogs tolerated her, were curious about her, and could leave her be when necessary. 

 

 

 

Today, she went home with a very nice woman who has another small dog.  A very well-groomed and spoiled Shih Tzu.  She will have a wonderful life, and I will be able to get updates about her.  It is the perfect, fairy-tale ending so why do I feel so lonely tonight?  I know it was the right decision.  I feel more and more confident about it as the hours pass, but I do not feel better about it yet.  Good luck, Sweet Bayah.  Look at me.  All in a frenzy and do not forget this blog started with the words "trial adoption."

 

 

 

Howl

Howl: A Collection of the Best Contemporary Dog Wit  Editors of BARk
2007
Weight: 1.2 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donating

I guess I have become a crazy animal woman, despite myself.  As a child, I was obsessed.  I watched every nature documentary I could find, read every book about critters my parents gave me, "adopted" as many as I could with my meager earnings from doing chores(you pay a fee and the wildlife group sends you a picture and certificate of adoption), drew/colored/hung up signs around the neighborhood encouraging people to save endangered animals.  High School/College I had what some might call a healthy appreciation of animals.  I loved them, but I did not fawn all over them or really think about them all that much.  I scoffed at "dog people" and "cat people" were beyond the realm of believability.  I say that, but I did become a vegetarian to cause as little harm to other living creatures as possible while in college.  BUT I had read an article linking animal oppression to SEX OPPRESSION!  And I loved women... I did not dream I would dedicate so much of my life to them in the years after college.  I, for sure, never thought I would dress a dog up, much less pay for the outfit. 

I would have told you that no, I would never drive to Knoxville, TN just to get two gerbils from an animal control facility.  I probably wouldn't have even said that.  I would have just looked at you warily and walked away.  As it is, my buddy, Skye, and I drove to Knoxville to get Papi and Prim in July of 2013.  She is a good friend.  I called her that morning, and she agreed to come even though she had to be at work that night, hadn't slept yet, and thought I said we were going to Kentucky for Guinea Pigs.  She is a good friend or someone with no self-preservation instinct.  I am not sure which.  We rode along, and I rambled on about anything and everything, listening to ridiculous music and pointing out fun places I wish we could stop along the way--like a billboard that proclaimed something along the lines of "Cows, Cheese, Wow!"  My dear friend had just moved back overseas, and I was a bit of a mess.  Fluctuating between being incredibly happy/excited by the trip to nervous/anxious/sad about potentially losing a friend.  I knew I was missing her when I would turn on the billboard hits she had always liked, and I had always hated.  I forced Skye to listen to them, smiling deviously and blushing.  I had never even let Harriet listen to them in my car during the year she was here and now I was making Skye suffer them even as she was doing me a good deed.  Sucks to be my friend, I guess!

When we got to the facility, no one knew where the gerbils had gone to.  They said if we could not find them then they were probably adopted.  This was alarming.  I had been e-mailing with a nice woman about holding them since we would be making quite the drive.  Not to mention, it was discomforting that no one could confirm or deny that they were adopted.  We finally found them on the floor, up against a wall, with a sign stating that gerbils learned about the world with their teeth.  Do not be alarmed if they bite you!  The cage I had waiting in the car was a huge improvement over their current digs, and I was feeling really good about taking them home.  I filled out the application, paid the adoption fee, and we turned around and headed back home with them seat belted in the back. 

We were told they were two boys, Ishmael and Queequeg.  I loved the names and was tempted to keep them.  Sherlock and Watson would be pretty cute too though...

My other dear friend, Tracy, had drawn them a welcome home card and brought treats.  I showed them off, and they started humping like fiends.  I was sure babies would soon follow, and I might have panicked.  They weren't boys after all!  As it turns out, they were both girls, and I joked about how I had adopted lesbian gerbils.  Holler.  I let Harriet name them.  She decided on the names of her childhood rabbits, Poppy and Primrose, also important flowers in England.  Over time, I molded them to fit me better and to fit the personalities of the two little rodents.  Papi is the dark-haired one and Prim was the blonde.

They were incredibly messy and destructive, frequently making me laugh, though also making me vow I would never get another gerbil again.  I would stick to hamsters in the future.  They seemed much cleaner.  The other day I went to feed the babies and found Prim dead, outside of her hut.  I buried her and moved Papi to a new, clean cage.  Papi has taken to sleeping on top of the hut when she sleeps and staying up throughout the day when she should be asleep.  I wonder what is going through her little mind.  I did not expect to lose Prim so quickly, and I hope Papi perseveres for much longer.

All of this is to say, rest in peace Queequeg/Watson/Primrose/Prim.  Thank you for spending your life with me.  I hope you had a happy one.


 

Something Wicked This Way Comes By Ray Bradbury

1983

Weight: 4 oz

Method of Disposal: The foster puppy, Leda, ate it and the remnants are in the recycling bin

The joys of puppyhood and of fosterdom. I always tell people, confidently and smartly, that I only adopt dogs 4 years and older. It is not exactly true, but I want it to be. In a world where I did not adopt dogs so that they would not be euthanized, I would only adopt adults and seniors. I know this is counter-intuitive since adults and seniors are put down more often than the younger ones, but in the case of pit bulls—all bets are off, all pits are at risk, and if you meet the right one at the right moment you take it home whether it is 10 months old or 12 years old. Hell, I took the wrong one at the wrong time, when she was 10 months old, and she reaffirmed every reason I ever gave for not adopting a puppy, and now she is the perfect 4.5 year old girl for me. All of this is to say, that I am still adamant that adults and seniors are the way to go. They need you and you need them.

So, why do I torment myself with fostering kittens and puppies?! I foster adult animals too, but I do not have a foster age limit or maxim. I guess that it is true, on some level, that babies (particularly animal babies) are made super cute for a reason and that most people are susceptible. When I walked into the clinic over 8 months ago and saw a little baby girl that looked like my Sergei, licking the vet techs' faces, despite the fact that they were removing an embedded collar, I just had to take her home to heal. I knew it would be a short-term commitment, and I knew I could give that puppy some of the things she needed until someone else could do better.

I took her home. I cleaned, medicated, and re-bandaged her oozing neck wound. I treated her for mange, and then I took her in to be spayed. I thought she would go on the adoption floor days later, but that was not what was in store for us. As it were, Leda had a failing kidney that had to be removed. I took her to the emergency vet and then to the specialist. There was a terrible and sickening chance she would die. But she didn't. The relief was overwhelming. We just had to make sure her other kidney was functioning properly.

Once that was in order, it was time for her to find a loving home. Wrong. She had ringworm. We went through quarantines, lyme dips, and oral medications. It took a Long. Damn. Time. I am getting excited/nervous ahead of time, and I know I shouldn't do that lest I test the universe, but she may go into a forever home this weekend or next week.

One of my many heartbreaking trophies from my relationship with this beautiful, intense, hellion I loved for so long is this copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes. It was one of many books to be shredded when I was not paying attention (it only takes a few moments). It is the only one that remains recognizable, though not readable. I was frustrated when I found it in the living room, the kitchen, her bedroom. I had wanted to read it, but I never had. Why was this dog still here?!

It is true that I am about to put it in the recycling bin now, but as I hold it in my hands I think about all the wonderful attributes Leda contains in that tiny little tank of a body and that always-rearin'-to-go mind. I think about all the goofy things that have made me laugh out loud and all of the sweet kisses she gave me when I rubbed her belly. The way she so eagerly and rapidly sits, shakes, and lays down (seemingly all at the same time) when she sees a treat. Sure, I also think about all the times I complained about her (SO MANY times) and all the aggravation, but it takes on a whole new light. I also, miserably, recall her crying in pain after her surgeries, waking her up during nightmares, and falling asleep with her many nights on a pallet on the floor since she could not sleep with my dogs. I think of her exuberance when she gets to play with other dogs and new people. I love that wicked little dog. I love her so much.

 And I worry, now that the time is finally here, that she will never know how much, that she will never know why I had to give her up, and that her new family will not fully realize her wonder. But I also know that I cannot offer her the things she needs. I cannot afford her the life she deserves, the life she will soon have. I cannot do these things with my current work hours and with my own special needs dogs. For 8 months, I have known this, fretted over it, mourned it, stressed about it. It is time, for me and her, but I hope that I can continue to get updates from her new life and know that what we did, while imperfect, was incredible and that it has bonded us for life. Even if I never see her again. That I gave her the chance she needed to survive and that she gave me the experience of witnessing and partaking in her embodiment of all-encompassing joy, despite all of the hurdles she had to overcome.