Journals

 Journals by Kurt Cobain

2003

Weight: 1.7 lbs

Method of Disposal: Recycling what I can and throwing away the rest

My neurotic dog grows more unstable every time life changes in any capacity.  The joyful sounds of a toddler taking a bath wreak havoc on his pea brain.  Once he has sunk his teeth into something he cannot forget it.  He fixates for life.  We went from steel/metal/water from his shelter life to plastic (waste baskets, printers, paper shredders) to paintings to books.  In the last week, I have lost 5 books, including Kurt Cobain's journals.  Broken minds are drawn to each other, I guess.

Before recycling what I can and trashing the rest, I have been rereading each book through the tears and teeth marks.  In the case of this book, Neuro-Dog ingested Kurt's letter to his dad, which I would have really liked to look at, and the rest was just torn up and scattered.  

The journals brought me back to being a teenager and were insightful.  It was fun to see him forming songs, the band name, connections, knowing what they would become, but it was (of course) sad too.  Knowing what happens next.  I sort of think he would have appreciated Wisconsin chewing up his personal musings and shitting them out.  I really do.  So, I guess this was an appropriate way to dispatch this book, though I was very frustrated at the time.

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.

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.

Protecting Marie

Protecting Marie by Kevin Henkes
2007
Weight: 6 oz
Method of Disposal: Lending Library at animal shelter

I do love good young adult books, and anyone who knows me knows that I adore dogs.  This one was okay.  It is about a young girl whose dad gives her a puppy and later he cannot handle the dog, and he gives the puppy away.  Later, he brings her home a well-trained adult dog who she promptly falls in love with but constantly worries about losing. The father is an artist with a complicated and moody personality, and the mother seems like a very caring and patient woman.  The young girl is growing up and confused by the world around her.  She is a sweet kid who is eager to please and to understand.  I appreciated that the book felt honest and that it did not shy away from difficult occurrences that happen in life just because I kid might read it and realize the world is hard and not always fair.  That very important people in our lives can be selfish and disappoint us a lot, but we can still love them.  I do not have to forgive him though.  Her dad is a jerk!  ;)  The most valuable lesson of all, of course, is that adopting older dogs is the way to go.  They are awesome!

Flush

Flush by Virginia Woolf
1976
Weight: 10.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leave in Lending Library

I love Virginia Woolf, and I love dogs so imagine my delight when I found this book after having read almost all the other Woolf books.  It felt like an impossibly wonderful discovery.  How had I never heard of it?  I got so excited that I bought it, took it home, put it on the book shelf, and then did not read it for years.  Why?  I have no idea.

I finally read it, and I found it to be sad, realistic, enjoyable.  It is not the best Woolf, but it brings to light some more of her quirk and point of view.  I wish all the classic authors had written a book from a dog's point of view so we could compare and contrast them all and explore the author's personalities through the text.  What fun would that be?  Anyway, this was fun, and I am passing it on in hopes someone else is delighted by its very existence.

Afterglow

Afterglow (a dog memoir) by Eileen Myles
2017
Weight: 1.6 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donating

I received this as a gift from a friend I love dearly recently.  It should have been a match made in heaven.  It is not only a book about a dog but a pit bull.  The author is a gender fluid poet who once ran a campaign to be written in for President of the United States of America in 1991 and 1992.  I am already in love.  It was a great gift.

I was not a big fan of the book in the end.  It seemed convoluted and unnecessarily, but intentionally, confusing.  I also struggled to find Rosie in the book.  It was all about her, but I felt like I never got to know the dog.  Just Eileen.  That wouldn't have to be a bad thing if the walk was enjoyable, but it wasn't.  I struggled until the very end.

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. 

The United States of Poetry

The United States of Poetry
Joshua Blum Bob Holman Mark Pellington
1996
Weight: 2.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving Somewhere

I bought this book in the 90s and just now read it in 2016, but I am glad I saved it all this time.  I also think it is better it is released now rather than later.  It seems like there is less poetry out there.  I do, however, find it amusing that I am now married to someone who had a total mental collapse when she realized I was reading a book of poetry next to her.  She has some deep-seated disdain for poetry we need to overcome, apparently.

I picked up this book and read it last weekend, after we had to euthanize our beloved Chihuahua-Potato, Bayah.  I thought she would live for at least two decades and never imagined we would lose her in the 8-12 year old range.  She was rescued with her baby, Aires, from a puppy mill and brought to PAWS Atlanta around 4.5 years ago.  Harriet and her then boyfriend, Connor, took Bayah in as a foster.  She was seemingly young and feisty.

She was adopted out and about a year later she came back looking terrible.  She was overweight, had hair loss, and her teeth were completely rotten.  Harriet had moved back to England, and there was no room at the shelter.  Having started falling in love with the now single Harriet, I could not let anything happen to her foster pup and so I took Bayah home as my own foster.  I fell in love with her too.  And hard.  I tried to adopt her out, but when she came back a week later (she wasn't housebroken) I was so relieved to scoop her back up.  I finalized her adoption that day--April 18, 2013.  I was able to be her family for a little over three years.  That's it.

She was my little hot potato and my co-pilot. She was the dog I could take with me everywhere.  She was relaxed and loving and not at all worried about adult strangers.  Children were slightly alarming, but she would not hurt them, and I always made sure they were sweet with her too.  She fit perfectly in my arms.  She would not lay down or rest until she found a comfy bed to rest on but, if you put her in a bed, she would not budge again until you made her or until you took out some food.  She loved to eat more than anything else in the world and on her last night we gave her chocolate and chicken jerky, which she scarfed down as ferociously as ever.

She developed a head tilt and was diagnosed with vestibular disease, but three weeks went by, and she did not get better.  We got a third opinion.  We were told she had a brain tumor and our time with her was short and, even with the warning, there was not enough time spent together.  There never could be.  That's the thing about death.  No matter how much life allows you to prepare for it you cannot prepare for it.  It feels sudden or unexpected even when it is not.  If it doesn't feel that way then you have likely suffered terribly and for awhile.

That last night was the first time she flinched when someone went to hold her or when her canine best friend, Savannah, got near her.  She was in pain.  The tumor was putting pressure on her eye.  She had gone blind in that eye just a few weeks before. The only option was surgery, and she was not a candidate for surgery at her age and in her condition.  She left us before we left her, and our hearts broke into a million Bayah-sized pieces as we drove away from that hospital and home to a house that felt empty even though it was full of dogs.  I funnel my affections into her best friend and my other dogs, but nothing touches that place within me where the memory of her lives.  It is heavy and damp, soaked through with my sadness.  I know that as time goes on it will fill with positive memories and funny anecdotes, but right now I just miss my beloved little Chihuahua and the tongue that always hung out of her mouth as she sauntered along.  The low, sweet bark she let out when she got really excited and the warmth of her small body resting next to me.  I will love you forever, Bayah. 

Annual Editions: Homeland Security 04/05 by Thomas Badey 2003

Weight: 1.1 lbs

Method of Disposal: Donating

My life has been taken over by the most obnoxious puppy.  She has been doing zoomies around the house for the last THREE HOURS.  If all the other pups in the house fall asleep she is sure to knock something big and loud over to wake them up again.  They get to barking, and I worry Harriet will wake up.  It sounds like the herd that killed Mufasa in The Lion King and, somehow, Harriet has not stirred.

She eats books, photos, and shoes.  Her favorite thing to do is to get a roll of paper towels or toilet paper and roll the house.  Then she pounces on the paper and tears it into tiny shreds.  She tries to take on the broom when you try to take on her mess.

If you are not paying attention she will launch herself through the air and fly straight into you, regardless of if you are holding a drink in your hand or have the laptop precariously on the arm of the chair.

Will she ever go to sleep?

Babylon Revisited and The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe

Babylon Revisited and Other Stories F Scott Fitzgerald
The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe C.S. Lewis
The publication years are unknown because the books are in shreds.
Weight: 12oz-ish?
Method of Disposal : Recycling

Another two books are gone to the strays.  I guess I should count myself as lucky that they are both classics and easy to find at the library.  Strelka/Charlotte is such a fun and playful girl, but it is time that she goes back to her mama.  She is staying with me indefinitely--both of us just hoping that mom actually comes back.  We are in some sort of strange in between place and the outcome does not look promising, but we have limited options and so we hope anyway.

My first introduction to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was when I was in elementary school.  My brother was reading it.  We were going to sleep on a mattress on the floor of his bedroom, and I wanted to read it too.

I was introduced to Fitzgerald in high school with The Great Gatsby and then I started reading his other work from there.

I will be recycling the remnants of both of these books and trying to hoover up the slivers that are too small to pick up.  Poor Charlotte.  She needs attention, love, and stability.  I have never been able to give it to her, and I have not been able to find anyone else who could either.  She showed up as a stray, went home with a girl that returned her due to allergies, and then went home with two women who broke up, and then came back to me yet again.  I'm trying, Baby Girl, I really 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."

 

 

 

Shelter Dogs

Shelter Dogs: Amazing Stories of Adopted Strays  by Peg Kehret
2005
Weight: 4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving at Joe's in EAV

What is second best to a young adult book with LGBTQI characters?!  A young adult book (really more of a "chapter book") about shelter dogs!  I loved animals as a child, so many of us do and so many of us lose that passion and emapthy as we grow up.  It is encouraged when we are young, but it is something you grow out of.  You may still love cats and dogs, wax poetic about dolphins, but it is not as awe-inducing as it was and it should not effect your life dramatically.  If your canine companion is not allowed at the new apartment you are dying to move into get rid of him.  You can't let a mangy mutt get in the way of your happiness!  So what if the burger you are eating is actually a cow that suffered tremendous cruelty in a factory farm?  Nothing you can do about it.  One person cannot change the world!

I say, get em started early and then encourage them to be repsonsible/respectful in adulthood.  There is no need for breeding and animal homelessness.  There are millions of wonderful, loving pets out there looking for permanent homes, and they have some really increbible stories.  I can tell you hundreds just from the one shelter I work at.

Here is one of the best:

Turner is a handsome pit bull that was rescued from a life of dog fighting.  He came to PAWS Atlanta covered in scars, emotionally and physically.  Despite the fact that he was saved from a terrible, unthinkable situation, his troubles were not over.  Due to fear of the breed and his past, he sat at the shelter for years.  We began to wonder if he would ever find a home, but one day his hero (and ours) walked through our gates and took Turner home.

Turner is now an ambassador for his breed.  He has helped raise an infant to toddler-hood.  He lives with other rescued dogs and helps comfort pups that need a place to stay until they can be transported to other places where they can be adopted.  He has been in his loving home for many years, and he still regularly visits us with donations and supplies for the shelter.  You can see him, as he makes regular appearances on Facebook, cuddling with his kid and sleeping soundly under the covers in bed.

Picture taken by owners in their home

 

Scent of the Missing

Scent of the Missing: Love and Partnership with a Search-and-Rescue Dog by Susannah Charleson
2011
Weight:10.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving in an EAV neighborhood book box

What a pleasant surprise?!  I bought this book when it was something like 75% off--a bookstore was going out of business.  I bought it because I love dogs and because it was inexpensive.  Then, I kept hesitating to read it.  So many times books about animals are not written well, even if they are interesting.  I knew I would struggle through this one.  I was wrong.  Susannah did a great job.  Sometimes she had me laughing, alone in my house, while my own dogs gave me quizzical stares.  I respected her drive and her dedication.  I was pleased to see that Search and Rescue dogs are still dogs after all.  They have to learn how to coexist with people just like the shelter dogs we adopt out every day.  It can be so frustrating when someone returns a puppy for chewing or for not being housebroken.  If only those same people realized that even canine heroes have to go through that phase.  I really loved this book and this glimpse into Susannah and Puzzle's lives. 

Thinking of Strelka

Microsoft Office Excel 2007 QuickSteps  by John Cronan

2006?

Weight: 1.3 lb

Method of Disposal: Recycling the Remains

It has been a little over 24 hours since Strelka started her trial period.  I left her last night with a wonderful, sweet, thoughtful woman who had clearly been doing her research.  I did not say an emotional goodbye, partly because I was sick and partially because it is a trial.  The woman is not sure if she is ready for a baby (as opposed to an adult), but she wanted to give it a shot since she had already fallen in love with Strelka.  Part of me thinks she will give her back to me because of this, and the other part of me cannot imagine that she could live with that little girl without falling in love.  If she decides to keep her, I might just need to see her one last time.  I have been thinking about her all day.

In a different time, in a different place, she would be mine.  I am smitten with her silliness.  Her langley, clumsy legs.  The way she rests her head on my chest and stares at me while I read.  The way she gets so excited to see someone and then acts as if she is startled by her own enthusiasm and playfully backs off.  She is such a flirt.  I really hope it works out with this woman, because I cannot give this girl the life she deserves.  Oh how I wish I could.  If not, we will keep searching until we find the perfect home.

Strelka did not destroy books, except for this insignificant one.  I think Leda gave her the idea.  This was one that had a little chewing around the edges.  She was being trained by the last foster, the book-eating adorable little beagle mix, who is having the time of her life by the way. 

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.