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.

Rick Bragg

2 x The Speckled Beauty and His People 

Where I Come From: Stories from the Deep South 

2021 

Weight: 20.13 oz

Method of Disposal: Giving two to dad and one to a friend

Two different people gifted me The Speckled Beauty within weeks of each other, and I felt loved.  I had just finished reading Where I Come From, which I purchased at Little Shop of Stories in Decatur, Ga.  Bragg has a couple essays where he mentions The Speckled Beauty and some other dogs, The Dancing Skinny and Pup McGraw.  I had already started naming dogs at the shelter after them.  We are still on the lookout for our Pup McGraw, but we had a Speck, a Speckled Beauty, and a Dancing Skinny.  I guess I should do a Bragg too.

Everyone seems to love Rick Bragg, and I like to buy at least one book anytime I go into an independent bookstore--or really any bookstore these days--so, when I saw his name on the new arrivals wall, I grabbed it right away.  It was a collection of essays, and it was good.  I did think I would have enjoyed them more by stumbling on them one by one in magazines or online but, realistically, that had not happened often so this was my best chance to read them.  I just could not resist reading them all at once, which might have taken away some of the power of them individually.  I thought about my dad several times, especially when he talked about fishing without the idea of catching anything.  My father often says he is going to feed the fish when he goes fishing.

The Speckled Beauty I enjoyed even more.  I liked the feel of reading it.  It was a slow meander and, though my bad dogs are indoors and I would never dream of doing some of the things with them that I read in the book, like his brother using motor oil to treat mange, I am not unfamiliar with this way of being with dogs.  I have met and talked with dog owners like these (Given, I have told them not to use motor oil). Bragg describes his dog, his brother's dogs, his mama's dogs.  They all have a different outlook on dogs and a way of being with them, and they all clearly love dogs very much.  Bragg and his mom take in only the most pitiful of strays and love them no matter how terrible they are, maybe love them because they are so terrible.

But, this book was not just about a dog or about dogs.  It was about people, about the South, about getting older, about loss.  It was beautiful and sad and funny and easy and hard.  At one point, Bragg caught me so off guard that I just burst into tears.  I was not expecting it at all and was shocked, as I laid in bed next to my sleeping wife, holding this book close to my chest, scaring my own dogs who woke with a start when they heard my sobbing.  And, it was not because the dog died, and it was not because of the dog at all.  In fact, the main dog lives in this one, folks.  That is a rarity in and of itself.  It was because Bragg has a way of letting you in so that you do not just read the words but feel them fully.  His indirect descriptions bring up powerful emotions.  He may be talking about a dog, but through that dog we learn so much about him and his family.  

It is good stuff.

Horses With a Mission

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

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

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

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

Giselle's Bucket List

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Dog's Purpose

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

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

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

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. 

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.

Loyalty Unleashed

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

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

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

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

Common Sense

Common Sense by Thomas Paine
1999
Weight: 4 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving Somewhere

Sometimes being a little nerdy can make you the dumbest one in class.  I remember that in high school we were able to pick a book off a list for class, and I chose Common Sense based on the title.  Not on any previous knowledge of it.  Not on the number of pages, though it amuses me to think that kids regularly fall into this trap.  At the time, I was bored out of my mind while reading it.  It was paine-ful.  Haha, get it?  Okay, not funny.

Any who, now I have taken home this adorable Chihuahua puppy and was considering adopting her, but common sense tells me I should let her go.  A high school acquaintance who is a wonderful dog mom is very interested and that has to be the best route.  To love her for the next two to four weeks and then let her go.  The joys and sadness of fostering...

Guess I better talk to the wife.  Got some things to work out.

Hunt For Hector

Hunt For Hector by Tony Tallarico
1990
Weight: 9. 6 oz
Method of Disposal: Leaving Somewhere in Decatur, GA

First things first.  There is a search for a hero dog in the Atlanta area...a pit bull mix, of course.  See below:
http://www.ajc.com/news/news/local/search-continues-for-hero-dogbaby-girl-remains-foc/nc4NJ/

Now, Onward.  I have been depressed as of late.  It is ridiculous.  The people I love are going through a lot right now but I, personally, am not.  I believe it is tied to the Chantix I have been taking to quit smoking.  I have sad dreams, wake up and am irritable all day at work, come home and am so miserable to be so far away from my fiancée that I end up getting snippy on Skype.  It makes no sense at all.  It is only a 3 month treatment, and I am 20 days in.  I know I can make it, damn it, but I hope she can.  I have been a nonsmoker for the last thirteen days and am hoping I smell better :)

Any who, tonight is the first night all week where I felt okay.  I went to work this morning, but I mostly drove to various places.  I did a home inspection and went to talk to the owner of a local doggy daycare.  By the time I got back to work there was only one employee left since the snow had scared the rest off.  We closed up the shelter and rescued a freezing kitty.  Really, it was a very successful, beautiful, and productive day.

I loved listening to music too loud while watching the snow fall, and I loved running around the yard snapping pictures of my dogs.  I also had a great time on Skype--playing games, answering riddles, reminiscing, and saying all that stuff that would make other people nauseated if they had to overhear it.  Now, I am up and reading, relaxing, and planning my weekend.


The only problem is that I really need to get to sleep.  I am seeing all the Facebook posts about all the people stranded in the snow around Georgia, and I am quickly realizing that I will, in fact, be working tomorrow.  There is no way there is going to be enough staff at the shelter tomorrow.  Friends are stuck at 24 hour businesses, their mothers are stuck in their cars on icy roads, children are stuck on buses or in nearby buildings away from their families, there have been over 600 accidents.  For some reason, I really did not expect all this.  I know a lot of people are making fun of the South right now, and I get it, but there are still people out there in serious need of help so let's hold back for a little bit and hope that everyone is going to be okay overnight.  And wish me luck getting to work tomorrow morning because their are some pups in serious need of a good pee and some breakfast! 

Cattitude

Cattitude: Boxed Set Photographs by Kim Levin and Written By Christine Montaquila
2007
Weight: 2.5 lbs
Method of Disposal: Donation

       

Meet Heather!  Heather is living outdoors but would love to be an indoor kitty.  She never leaves my stoop these days and frequently begs to come in.  I am allergic to cats, but I got her vaccinations, testing, and deworming taken care of.  She is also spayed.  She is incredibly sweet and will stand up on her hind legs to get a pet from you.  She is a svelte little girl with beautiful markings.  She is FREE to a good home, and I may be willing to transport her depending on where you live.

                   

This is Crumpet.  She is one of my favorite cats of all time.  She has been at PAWS for two years, and she desperately needs a home.  If you are someone I know well and trust I would be willing to pay her adoption fee and transport her to you.  If I do not know you, I am afraid you will have to go through the regular channels.  She is totally worth it.  She is a smart, serious girl that is very independent but still craves chin scratches and ear ruffles.  She gets along with other cats.

The General is the kitten I have fostered since he was 5 days old.  he is probably around 6 weeks now.  He was bottle fed and is very loved.  He will be available at PAWS Atlanta once he is neutered. 

Marley and Me

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

 

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

 

 

 

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

 

 

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

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Howl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


 

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.