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.

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.  

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.

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.

Pet Food Nation

Pet Food Nation: The Smart, Easy, and Healthy Way to Feed Your Pet Now by Joan Weiskopf
2007
Weight: 8 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating

This is an accessible, easy-to-read book exposing the truth about the pet food industry, and there is a lot to be ashamed of.  It is not the Bible of animal health, but it will get someone started thinking about what their pets are eating.  It is written so that you do not have to be a dog enthusiast to read it, though it would be a challenge to get someone else to pick it up.  The author sure tries, and I appreciate that.  I have seen other reviewers state that some of the information is inaccurate but, overall, I think it is a useful and good book to have a look through.

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. 

Rescuing Sprite

Rescuing Sprite: A Dog Lover's Story of Joy and Anguish by Mark R. Levin
2007
Weight: 10.4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving in a Lending Library in Decatur

The plumber came by to investigate an obnoxious and overwhelming smell that infiltrates our house every time we take a shower, wash dishes, or clean our clothes.  He walked in the basement and saw my mementos and memorial boxes of the many dogs I have loved and asked Harriet if they were for deceased dogs.  She said yes, and proceeded to lead the poor guy down the road of "Laura is actually crazy."  She decided not to admit I was a shelter manager, which only makes me look worse.  I do not intend to keep them forever, but I want to find the best way to memorialize all the dogs that have touched my life and, in almost ten years of work at an animal shelter, there are a lot of them.

I absolutely understand why other people and write and read books about rescued dogs and the families that love them, but I never understand why I do.  I read Rescuing Sprite, inevitably crying a bit, and thinking I hear so many sad animal stories on a daily basis.  Why am I doing this to myself?  This is like answering the phone at work on any given day.

But it is not really.  It is wonderful to hear about a nice, loving, generous family who loves the senior, ill dog that they adopted and does not blame the shelter for the things they could not know.  It is refreshing to hear about that dog's retirement and how good it was and how grateful the family was to know Sprite.

I am going to leave this one in the lending library and hope it opens someone else's eyes to rescue.

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!
 

Angus

Angus by Charles Siebert
2001
Weight:5.6 oz
Method of Disposal: Donating

 

It would seem, yet again, that I am one of the very few readers of this book that did not enjoy it.  I thought it was tedious and not convincing.  I did not feel like I was in the head of a Jack Russell Terrier, though I could tell the owner had done their research and/or knew the breed.  The only part I got into was the very end when the owner is describing the death of Angus.  I got a little emotional but only because I always do when dogs struggle.

Aside from all that, the dog rescue side of me wanted to scream, "If he does not come back when you call, then put him on a God Damn leash when he goes out!"  Amongst other things.
 

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. 

RIP Ditto

Hamster (ASPCA Pet Care Guides for Kids) by Mark Evans
1993
Weight: 9.6 oz.
Method of Disposal: Donating



On April 5, 2011 a beautiful, clean, and curious Black-eyed Cream Syrian hamster named Ditto passed away in her hut at an old age, 2.5 years. We do not know what the start of her life was like, who her mom was, or much about her before she arrived at one of the big name pet stores. We can surmise that she went through a lot as a tiny puppy and was lucky(?) to be alive by the time she arrived at the retail store. PETA exposed cruelty at a major small pet supplier, and it was all over the news just last year. I am not always a fan of PETA but, in this instance, I am thankful for their undercover footage. I also know, from talking to multiple friends who worked at these retail chains, that life in the store was not idyllic either. Many hamsters never made it out alive, they got sick and received little to no treatment, or were sold to people who did not have the best of intentions. I remember one story about someone’s first month on the job. This particular store requires that you fill out a form to buy a hamster, stating that the animal will not be used as feeder. A man turned in the form stating he was No Body from Somewhere, Ga. The manager said there was nothing they could do and to let it go. There were worse stories about animals suffocating in too close quarters and arriving dead or injured.

A woman decided she would purchase her young son a hamster to teach him about responsibility. Ditto was chosen from her litter. She was given a name (Sandy) and taken home. She lived with this family for about a year, but when the woman realized she was pregnant she spoke with her doctor who told her she could no longer clean her cage, and there was no one else who could help her. She knew it would be even more difficult when she was recovering from her C-Section. She placed an ad to get rid of her and all her things for free. We made plans to meet. I picked Ditto up in a public parking lot. I had wanted a hamster, but I knew I would never be able to buy another one from the pet store. I was thankful to have her in my life. I was told that she was not big into being handled and knew to crawl into her running ball when it was time for her to leave the cage. I drove her home. She was scared and angry.

My friend, Skye, was the first person who would be able to lure her into their hands, later that same night, and I was the next. She was a sweet girl, after all, she was just terrified and had been through quite a lot in her short life. I threw out the cage I had been given for free and all of its components. I could not get the urine smell out of it, and so we started with a fresh cage. I named her Ditto after the most fabulous Beth Ditto, a strong woman for sure. She had plenty of treats, toys, and nests. She always had food, water, and a clean cage. She often roamed the house in her ball, running alongside my dog Sergei (who ignored her or was slightly scared of her) and some of my foster babies. She loved papaya treats above all others. My friend, Jasmin, once startled her while she was asleep and she promptly bit her finger, causing her to bleed, but she never hurt anyone else. Jasmin still hates her to this day. She escaped once and was caught in the act once. The first time, I was beside myself with worry and was frantic for hours, trying to find her. She chewed up the carpet, tore up some insulation, and left sunflower seed shells in various corners, but I did find her eventually. I was worried about her for days, but she continued living for a long time after that. The next time I caught her she was tightrope walking right beside her cage. I fixed it to where she could not escape again. I lamented her lack of freedom, but I had to protect her from the dogs and potential toxins.

Ditto was less social than my other rescued hamsters, and it would take just a little patience and time to gain her trust. I have always respected that in an animal, and it seems reasonable considering her rocky start. She was intelligent, curious, and energetic. She made me laugh. I felt an overwhelming amount of love for her.

She is now buried and gone, but I will never forget what an amazing little rodent and friend she was.

I am donating the ASPCA book in hopes that a parent and child will read it together before adopting a hamster. So often, parents think a hamster is a good starter pet, but they do not realize how fragile they can be. This is an excellent book explaining how to care for your buddy, describing what makes hamsters so incredible, and encouraging a healthy life overall for the little rodents. It tells you everything you need to know and more.

INTERESTING HAMSTER FACTS FROM THE BOOK:
-In the wild, hamsters run as much as 5 miles in a night.
-Hamsters can have up to 16 nipples—large litters!
-Hamsters have 16 teeth in that tiny little mouth.
-The Siberian hamster became a pet in 1940, not that long ago. The smaller hamsters, like Roborovsky’s were even more recently introduced.
-Dwarf hamsters and Chinese hamsters like to live in pairs, but Syrians cannot live together after they are 5 months old. They will fight each other.

Phoenix, 1997-2010

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein
2009
Weight: 9.6 oz
Method of Disposal: Not sure, but I want it gone.



On August 16, 2010 I stayed up late reading the ART OF RACING IN THE RAIN while my baby foster kitten ran up and down the couch. Phoenix, my old man, laid beside me and would give the kitten a sniff from time to time that would cause her to blow up into the tiniest little poof ball. Phoenix’s tail was wagging, and he was given a good pet. The next morning I woke up, left the house to go to work telling Phoenix my usual, “Don’t worry, I will be back. I don’t want to leave either.” I got off work an hour early. I stopped by Walgreens for a totally unnecessary soda and then went home. I opened the door. Phoenix was lying crumpled and dead on the floor by the window. I started yelling at him to get up and fell over the items that blocked my way to him. The consensus is that it was probably a heart attack.

I adopted Phoenix from a local animal control around 11 years ago, and they guessed his age to be two years old. He was a big, scared, black dog with snot hanging down to the floor. It was raining that day, and he was scared to get into our car. They thought he might die since he was so sick, but he recovered. His shelter name was Sprocket and, because I was in 9th grade and he had overcome so much, I named him Phoenix. Later, he would also be known as Fiend, P-Beast, and Feenie.

In his early years, he would bolt out the front door if anyone attempted to open it. He would run straight into children, knocking them over, and then walk away without a second thought about it. He was always terrified of thunderstorms. He was also my best friend, despite the fact that I was a teenager and had trouble showing it. He was there when I broke up with my first love, and he was there for all the trying times I have had since then. He met everyone who was important to me, and he impressed almost everyone he came into contact with. In his older years friends of mine would proclaim that they wished he was their dog or that they wanted a dog just like him. We would use him to socialize other pets that were more timid, and he helped Vallan and I foster ten or more other beasts. He moved 5 + times to new houses and neighborhoods, but he always took it in stride. New smells, new people, new friends. He was cared for by Vallan, my mother, my grandmother, and myself. Every one took care of him in different ways, and he loved all of them. He ended up being the best-behaved dog I have ever had the privilege of calling my family member.

Phoenix was a traveling dog. He loved car rides. He had the opportunity to go cross-country several times, and he was also able to live with my mom on top of a mountain in New Mexico. He never cared for swimming or baths, much to my dismay. He was so afraid of water I am surprised he ever drank any out of the bowl. He did like to lick the water off my ankles when I got out of the shower, and I always hated it, but I would let him, thinking I would miss it one day. I do.

The night before my best friend died, I was reading a book from the perspective of a dog about his love for his owner and his own dying. The book was sometimes trite, and it was often way too human-centric—mostly man-centric. The women characters left a lot to be desired, and the man was the ideal life form. I really don’t care about all that right now though. The book did make me cry often, and I did read it fast. It was good and, for some, I think it would be comforting. I had no idea I would lose Phoenix so soon after reading it and now I want it out of my life. It is not the book’s fault, but it has to go.

Good Bye Fiend Man, I will always love, respect, and cherish you. 1997-2010.