We cannot save them all. I know - it's a harsh and depressing first sentence, but it's true. Phinneas's story is different from all my others: it doesn't have a happy ending. Friends keep telling me that it isn't fair [when we lose them] and it never is, but this one really isn't fair. Phinneas got caught in death's boomerang; he stared down ill fate with his tiny determination and then rallied against it only for it to swoop back and claim him in the end anyway. Death's boomerang.
Leonard's fleas
So yeah, it's sad and not the typical feel-good plot, but I'm going to tell his story anyway because otherwise he only exists in my memory and I can't allow that. I promise there are glimmers of happiness that shine through the tragedy; I'll do my best to illuminate them. The beginning of Phin's story as we know it is bleak, naturally, as rescues usually are. Perfect Pets Rescue received a phone call saying five chihuahuas had been found abandoned in the closet of a vacant apartment unit without food or water. Huddled together in a flea infested pile, the "five foundlings" survived their nightmarish neglect for who knows how long. PPR took them in and renamed them Mortimer, Rose, Leonard, Blanche, and Phinneas because they all looked like they should have the most classically geriatric names possible. I saw Phin's photo and offered to foster him, as I'm a sucker for projects and his skin clearly needed the most work.
Top: first photo of Phinneas Bottom: rockin' the PJs
Phinneas came to us completely hairless with lava red skin that was hot and greasy to the touch. I had folks ask if we shaved him this way or if he had mange. The fleas did this to him. It's called flea allergy dermatitis - basically a hyper histamine reaction to flea saliva (read: bites) which in this case irritated Phin's system so much that he "dropped" his coat (severe alopecia). Constant scratching allowed bacteria to penetrate the skin's barrier and cause infection to set in, giving him a nasty odor and open sores. His initial bloodwork looked shockingly clean - I expected much worse given his condition and the stress his tiny little body had endured. He had four teeth, two good looking canines and two horrendous molars in need of extraction. The dental, neuter, and vaccines would have to wait until we got his skin infection and overall inflammation under control. We undertook a heavy duty course of antibiotics for the skin infection and twice weekly medicated baths to knock down the bacteria. I applied some extremely diluted essential oils to topically soothe his inflamed skin and made him wear long-sleeved pajamas to keep from relentlessly scratching. Despite his misery, he craved human affection. He never seemed afraid in our house even with all the other dogs and the foreign surroundings; he just calmly observed everything going on around him and begged for snuggles. I'm mildly ashamed to admit that I donned gloves to touch him and wrapped him in towels as a prerequisite for cuddling for the first week we had him. He was Grade A "yick", but oh so sweet. I lovingly nicknamed him "naked mole rat" and began to get to know the little doggy soul behind the ruined exterior. As time promoted healing, Phin's personality emerged more each day. He quickly appreciated the space to roam and explored each room of the house with great curiosity. We had a lot of fun watching him observe, learn, and mimic our dogs' daily routine. Before long, he blended right in and moved as one of the pack. All of our fosters go through this period of melding, but to watch Phin acclimate gave me a special joy knowing he came from being stuck in the damp darkness of a waste-ridden closet. This little guy had the spirit of a survivor, a certain quiet bravery about him. I called it #tinydetermination.
A couple weeks passed and his skin began to show signs of healing: scabs. Bruises and scabby patches where he'd scratched himself the worst indicated that his body felt it had sufficient resources to designate toward rejuvenation as opposed to inflammation. A white flag from the immune system; a sign of peace instead of war; light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. They say certain things often get worse before they get better. I'd say Phin's skin was a visual example of this sentiment. He looked like he'd been dragged through gravel and kicked around the ribs, but I found myself smiling at his scabs and bruises because I knew their significance. We cut our medicated baths down to once per week as not to overly dry his healing skin.
Scabby and bruised but on the mend!
Sure enough, little patches of white fuzz began to sprout around his ears and along his back. I couldn't have been more thrilled! We'd added Zyrtec and fish oil to our healing regimen and the benefits showed mightily. This little guy regrew his fur like wildfire. Tufts turned into running strips of down which morphed into full blown patches of FUR. My little naked mole rat was no longer naked! He'd become a handsome little white fuzzball and I couldn't possibly be prouder of his transformation.
Things were really looking up. Phin spent his days prancing around the house following the sunshine from one warm spot to another. He had his choice of dog beds scattered throughout the house, which he enjoyed thoroughly on days when the sun wasn't shining brightly enough through the windows for him. He danced on his hind legs for treats and dinner along with the others and snuggled on the couch with us in the evenings for TV time. The good life - finally! He was able to get his vaccines in September, gain a whole pound in October, and have his neuter and dental scheduled for mid-November. Adoption would be right around the corner. Phin was doing GREAT. So great! And then he just wasn't.
My little naked mole rat suddenly had terrible back pain, complete loss of appetite, and total lethargy. He hid in his crate around the clock and wanted absolutely nothing to do with human interaction. His entire demeanor shifted. We took him to the emergency vet Sunday night and confirmed the worst: he was in full-blown kidney failure. Kidneys, I've learned, are funny on paper. They show up fine until they're really really not fine. I'll never have all the answers I want: how "not fine" his kidneys were by the time he was rescued from that closet, how "fine" they were before his abandonment, how much his dental disease may have contributed to the problem, whether the happiness and improvement we saw was simply a "rally" or a "surge" like the trajectory of that Newtonian apple destined to plummet. In any case, Phin's kidneys were utterly shot. His temp was 98.6 and the vet said he maybe had one more day in him without hospitalization. Dogs have a very poor chance of bouncing back from kidney failure. Even had we hospitalized Phin for dialysis, his chances of meaningful recovery were decidedly poor at best. I knew looking at the little survivor in my arms that he had zero fight left in him. He was just done. I got mad at myself for thinking the phrase, "he's given up", because that little dog did everything except give up. He survived some sort of terrible neglect, socked death in the jaw, and ultimately looked darn good doing it. But the boomerang - it came back for him. We can't save them all. Even if rescue finances weren't a consideration (they always must be - that's just the reality), it wouldn't have been fair to subject Phinny to what likely still would have been his last couple days hooked up to lines and scared in a hospital. And for what? Only to have to make the call at some point down the road anyway, whether that be two days or two months ahead. No. This is part of the gig: making the painful decisions to avoid suffering. I held Phin in my arms and sang the simplest song I've ever sung as he drifted off, "Night night, Phinny. Night night, Phinny. We love you, Phinny. Night night, Phinny." He went peacefully and quickly, as they usually do when they're already that close to death. Not even a ragged breath. But it wasn't fair. It's just not. And it never is. But we can't save them all.
The happiest photos
My last photo with Phin
I wanted so much more for Phin. He deserved the world's kindest little old lady who would've
loved nothing more than to snuggle him in her rocking chair until the end of their days together. He had so many snuggles in his imaginary future in my mind. I would've snuggled him more if I'd known I was all he'd ever get. I know how this goes; I know he had three months of "good life" here with us and that I must focus on remembering that. But instead, what kills me is that he only had maybe two weeks of true "feel good" during those three months. Just as everything was looking up, it all came crashing down around us. That's just like life, isn't it? That's 100% why we must find and cherish the happiness in the now. Savor life moment by moment. Remember the details. The "now" is fleeting and is never to be repeated. I've never had a foster dog die on me before, not one that was mine from start to finish. Peppercorn, Brooks, Niko, and Meiko are not forgotten but they weren't mine. I'm always the person holding the hand of the grieving foster parents. I guess it's my turn. I sat at the vet's office with Phin in my arms and tears streaming down my face while thinking, "it's not that it's really any different, it's just that I have to hold my own hand this time". So I held Phin's little hand and I let him go. "Night night, Phinny. We love you, Phinny."
This is one of those posts that requires a large glass of wine next to the computer as I type. It's not a happy post, but even the saddest situations often have positive takeaways. If you recall, we last left off with Peppercorn adjusting to being the only dog in his new (third) foster home and doing well with a bit more space. Please, if you've got a few minutes to spare, have a refresh of his full story: http://ohfortheloveofdogs.blogspot.com/2015/04/peppercorns-plight-overcoming.html
Our last moments with Pepper
By way of Peppercorn, I came to know my wonderful rescue friend, Dawn Piazza. Dawn and
I were both drawn to Pepper while he was at the shelter and we both committed to finding him rescue. Dawn is the one who found Jenna, Pepper's first foster, who made his jailbreak possible. Little Taco, the grey-ish Chi playing with Pepper in one of his shelter videos, is one of Dawn's own dogs she uses to test shelter dogs and help gauge their social skills. Dawn was right there with me on day one of Pepper's journey and we've since saved more dogs together than I can count, both independently and as part of the San Jose Animal Advocates team. Today, Dawn was right there with me on the final day of Peppercorn's journey. Today, together, we let him go.
Enjoying that cheeseburger
Over the past month or so, Pepper's foster dad (Henry) noticed his lymph nodes seemed enlarged. Over the next few weeks, he noticed Pepper seemed to be generally uncomfortable and extremely tired. He lost interest in walks, food, and water. His physical appearance changed; Pepper looked both oddly bloated and emaciated at the same time. He had no muscle tone left, just a bag of creaky bones. The vet cultured Pepper's lymph nodes and discovered that he had terminal Stage IV Lymphoma. Last Thursday, the vet informed us that Peppercorn had 10-30 days left. Just four days later, Henry called me to say he felt Pepper's comfort level had further declined and that we should go ahead and make the difficult decision to let him go. This evening, one week after we received Pepper's diagnosis, I made that painful one-way trip to the vet. After Henry gently kissed his head and said his goodbyes, I drove Pepper to Burger King for a treat. He enjoyed a bacon cheeseburger in the front seat of the car before we went inside for our appointment.
He went peacefully. In fact, Dawn and I think he passed on his own before the cocktail kicked in. His poor little body was so tired, so worn out, and so ready. I honestly believe that today was his day to go. Dawn and I stood by his side the entire time, stroking his back and gently scratching his formerly tattered ears (they healed in time!). In many ways, seeing such a weary creature finally let go and just slip gently out of our world came as a relief. Cancer is a terrible, exhausting, all-consuming monster. I am glad, in a poignantly bittersweet sense, that it took him so quickly.
Peppercorn spent ten months and eight days in foster care, during which time he bounced from Jenna's home to mine and finally to Henry's. To call Pepper a village effort would be an understatement. I remained his foster coordinator the whole time and got to see, unfortunately, that Pepper seemed determined to remain on the wrong side of the "unadoptable" cusp. But we are RESCUE. It doesn't matter. What matters is that Peppercorn had almost a whole year of freedom and love. Although we can't have every case be a "Peppercorn", it is so tremendously important that we take one on every now and then in order to grow in our efforts, to check our motives, to make a difference, and to save a life. So when you wonder why Dawn and I are smiling in the photo with Pepper on his last day of life, it is because he brought us together and together we will save many more lives in his memory. Thank you to everyone who played a part in Pepper's journey. Jenna & Alyssa M., Dawn, SJAA, Alyssa S., Tina, Heidi & Jake's Wish, Drew, and most of all, thank you to Henry for loving him for seven months without a single hint of impatience or complaint. You may never read this, but I hope you know that you meant the entire world to this little dog and I don't know what we would have done without your commitment.
Pepper & Henry
Pepper: thank you for bringing Dawn into my life. Thank you for reminding me that I can't fix every broken dog. Thank you for keeping me humble. Thank you for the opportunity to grow even more in what I do. Thank you for trusting me and for allowing me to be part of your journey. Now rest, and know you were loved, Peppy. This hard life is behind you.
Sunny and Sandy are an adorable pair of tiny Chis who came to us as part of a foster trade. In an attempt to place Peppercorn in a more suitable environment, we exchanged him for these two little critters. Foster swapping, though emotionally difficult, is sometimes a really helpful thing to do. Peppercorn was no longer thriving with us and needed a quieter environment. Sandy & Sunny needed a bit more socialization. So, TA-DA! Foster swap. Sunny and Sandy have an interesting story. A good samaritan witnessed somebody abandoning four Chihuahuas: Sandy, Sunny, and their two longhaired Chi friends (Surf and Cali). Instead of looking the other way, she scooped all four of them up and brought them to the San Jose shelter. I was at the shelter with Jake's Wish Dog Rescue when they came in for processing. They were so cute and sweet, despite being hitched to the wall and getting their intake photos taken. We knew we had to take them! One of the four - Surf - got adopted out by the shelter, but we took the remaining three under Jake's Wish. It turns out Cali was pregnant and had three teeny tiny Chihuahua puppies the night before we got them out of the shelter. She and her pups went into their own foster home. Mama Cali has since been adopted and her babies, Rio, Zelda, and Cruz, are now available for adoption through Jake's Wish. Meanwhile, Sandy and Sunny switched from their original foster home to come live with us until they're adopted so that Peppercorn can have a better foster experience. Whew, what a story!
Hanging out an adoption event
Sunny is a total lovebug. His teeny little face is just absolutely adorable! He weighs just about 3 pounds and is maybe 2 years old. Sandy is maybe 3 years old and about 6 pounds. She's shy at first, but boy does she love to play once she feels comfortable! The two of them together are really a hoot to watch. They keep each other entertained and are constantly by each other's side. Sunny actually passed behavior and health check at the shelter and was on his way into adoptions. Sandy didn't make the cut for adoptions due to her fearfulness at the shelter. I normally don't pull dogs who are already "safe" in the adoption gallery, but the shelter staff was pretty keen on us taking Sunny given that he's another brown Chihuahua (they have SO many of them...). Turns out, Sunny is Sandy's little security blanket. He has helped her come out of her shell so much since I first met these two. They really are two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, yin and yang, a bonded pair. They follow each other everywhere, snuggle together on the couch, sleep in the same crate, and even eat out of the same bowl each meal. I don't know if they're related or mates or what, but it's obvious that they care very much for each other. We're trying to market them as a "twofer" in hopes that they'll get adopted together.
Sunny
Sandy
These two are seriously the easiest Chihuahuas we've ever had. They're so ridiculously sweet and loving - they wouldn't even think of snapping or nipping even if scared. It's crazy how good-tempered they are! Add them together and you don't even have a ten pound dog, so I'm really hoping someone out there sees what a great pair they are and decides to take the plunge for both of them together. These guys would be perfect for pretty much anybody: first time dogs, family dogs, apartment dwellers, elderly folks, home with cats or other dogs or small animals, etc. Sunny is a smidge fragile due to his tininess, so maybe not super young kids, but that's about the only restriction I can come up with. Anybody would really be lucky to have these guys in their family. They're full of love and laughs. We've certainly enjoyed having them! Check out their video below and help us share so that they can find the forever home they deserve.
Flutter, Pinkie, & mama Heather
PUPDATE: Sandy & Sunny got a little doggy brand refresh...we ended up calling them Shrimp & Grits! It seemed to generate a bit more attention from them, but still nothing fruitful in the way of adoption interest. We were stumped - how could it be that no one realized just how special these two little critters were? We had them for 8 months, which is a significant foster period length for us because the only other foster we'd had that long is Oliver, and you all know what happened with Oliver...he's ours. SO, we started to get a bit nervous that we inadvertently turned our three brown dogs into five brown dogs. Then out of the blue, Heather and David came along. I held my breath and tried not to get my hopes up just in case, but it turned out that Heather and David are the absolute perfect family for S&S. They invited us into their home with open arms, eager to learn everything about the two little lives bouncing around their living room. It seemed a solid match. We were cautiously THRILLED.
Is she gonna call?
After our visit, we waited - and waited - and waited for what seemed like an eternity to hear back from Heather with her decision. We waited so long (it felt...only 5 days, but that's pretty long in rescue!) that when my phone finally rang, I was certain it was a rejection call. Much to my astonishment and bittersweet joy, Heather told me that she and David decided they needed my two little brown chis in their lives. I was over the moon and heartbroken all at the same time - you know the drill by now. Yet I wasn't the least bit worried; I knew Heather had a heart full of love, compassion, and gentle understanding and that she would care for my two littles no matter what.
Driving to our new home!
I asked for a couple days to prepare and when the weekend came, we made the drive over to Los Altos Hills for the delivery. Drew by my side, I held strong and handed them over to their new mom. I knew they'd be cared for like a prince and princess, cherished and pampered but expected to learn a set of rules and toe the line. I knew Heather to be a great mother and a strong woman who would protect them and make sure everything in the environment was safe for them. I knew they would have an absolutely wonderful life full of love and laughter ahead for many years. Despite all of this, I let myself grieve once we got back in the car and drove out of sight. We waved and waved, until we couldn't see them anymore. Their confused little faces wrought with concern blurred as tears welled in my eyes and threatened to pour. Shrimp gave me that face of his - that tiny little face - and I let go. These two dogs will always hold a most special place in my heart, right there with Herman from a full year before. We went to dinner and I placed a new patch on my freshly broken heart, now cracked and stitched back together more times than I can count.
I am so incredibly lucky that Shrimp & Grits wound up with Heather and David. They've had us back into their home a couple times post-adoption to visit. Shrimp had to have a horrible partial penectomy surgery (look it up if you dare) and had a truly terrible recovery through which we offered what little support we could for Heather as she "mama beared" her way through the difficulties. We brought her lunch on her birthday and sat at the table like a family while Shrimp lay in his crate with the tiniest e-collar I've ever seen in life. I brought them teeny tiny freeze dried shrimp cat treats and got to feed him gently. He was upset that he couldn't sit in our laps or run around and play, but he was doing much better. After a full recovery, Heather built Shrimp & Grits (now Flutter and Pinkie, respectively, after David's favorite TV show) an enclosed lounge space in the yard so that they could sun safely without the worry of large birds picking them up. Needless to say, they live like royalty and they are so tremendously loved! I couldn't ask for anything more for them. Flutter & Pinkie are home forever and I am so grateful to Heather and David for everything. Now that we're on the other side of things, this one seems more open-ended than most adoptions I've done. Perhaps it's because Heather's so great about staying in touch, perhaps it's because we got to visit them afterward, perhaps I just feel that good about it. I'm not sure, but whatever the reason, I'm very thankful.
Chihuahuas. San Jose is absolutely overrun with them. The "market" is thoroughly saturated. Chis are a dime a dozen out here. Nobody wants them, especially if they're less than perfect. You mark? You bark? You've got a heart murmur? Luxating patella? Bad skin/coat? Allergies? You're less than perfectly socialized? You're a tan/brown male? Forget it. Those are just some of the initial obstacles so many of our Chihuahuas face. Nobody wants any of that. It's easier to find rescue for Chis who weigh four pounds or less; their teeny tiny size ups their desirability factor. It's easier to find rescue for Chis with super cool coloring or some kind of unique feature. When you're plain old tan or brown and look like every other Chi on the street, you get overlooked. It's easier to find rescue for super duper friendly Chis. If you've got half a brain in your head and prefer to warm up to people as you get to know them, you're a disappointment. So why in the world do we work so hard to save these less than desirable Chis that nobody wants and will be a struggle to get adopted? Why do we bother? Peppercorn's story explains it quite well.
Pepper's intake photo
Shelter staff found Peppercorn left in a box with some junky kibble outside the owner surrender door. He came in neutered and already knew how to sit on command, so it seems he belonged to someone at some point. We'll never know if his former owners were the people who left him in the box, or if someone else found him as a stray and turned him in like that. Either way, people failed Pepper somewhere along the line. He was terrified, fear aggressive, and shelter staff were unable to handle him to even find out if he was male or female. He was 938188, "Unknown" of "unknown age" and "unknown sex". This happens a lot, but his intake photo was so pathetic that I had to go check him out. When I met Peppercorn, he was lying toward the back of his kennel on a blanket, throwing some serious side-eye shade just like in his intake photo. He let us leash him up and trotted out just fine. Once we got in the courtyard, he explored the perimeter and didn't show much interest in either of us. He responded well to treats and took them from me without breaking eye contact - still so distrustful, understandably. I pet him a couple times, but he made it clear that he preferred to keep his distance and sit a few feet from me. When it came time to put him back in his kennel, he flipped his lid and threw a tantrum about being leashed. It wasn't pretty. Still, something about him resonated with me. His eyes? Everyone says it's his eyes. I don't know. I think it's just that I know all too well the likely fate of these guys. That combined with being pretty certain that this was someone's dog at one point. I knew advocating this one wasn't going to be easy - he was a homely, unfriendly, average sized male Chihuahua who had nothing really going for him at all. That sounds awful, but it's the hard truth. I knew I had to break out the big guns and really find a way to pull on people's heartstrings if I wanted a shot at saving this one. And even then, I knew I'd be unlikely to succeed. So, I made the saddest video montage I could possibly manage and we began networking the dickens out of him. We settled on the name "Peppercorn" because he's small, black, and just a tad spicy. You've got to watch his sad video in order to appreciate his situation. I promise, there are happy ones to balance it. Here it is:
I don't usually make videos so sad like that, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It got people's attention. I can't do it like that every time, or it loses its effect. I usually like to make them happy and cute so that folks are more inclined to watch. When everything is sad and hard to watch, people stop paying attention. Fortunately, a little well-timed sadness proved helpful to Pepper. Turns out, Pepper's sad video got over 7,000 views thanks to San Jose Animal Advocates. Now we just needed the right person to see his video and feel moved enough to help us help him. The shelter staff extended his date so many times for me and kept working on socializing him. They made such a huge difference for Pepper - when we finally found someone interested in fostering him, he was practically a different dog thanks to the shelter staff's efforts. Had they not have spent time working with him, I seriously doubt the foster meet & greet would have gone so well. Tina and Alyssa - thank you. The potential foster mom brought her little long-haired Chihuahua (Marshmallow) to the shelter to meet Pepper, along with another "test" dog (Taco) to help break the ice. Check out what a difference the shelter staff made with him and how much he enjoyed meeting the other dogs:
After sleeping on it for a night, Jenna decided to foster Peppercorn. Turns out, even though he wouldn't let her pet him until an hour into our visit, she fell in love with his haunting eyes. Thanks to Jake's Wish Dog Rescue, I pulled him the next day and brought him home with me to get cleaned up. After a shower, a nail trim, and an ear cleaning, Pepper slept like a rock on his first night out of the shelter. We outfitted him with a proper collar and harness and delivered him to Jenna the next day.
We would not have been able to save this dog without Jenna. He had no rescue interest and we had no other foster candidates. He was so out of time it wasn't even funny. I had so little hope of saving him from the get go that I didn't even want to give him a name. Thank you, Georgia, for that. Because Jenna decided to take the plunge, Pepper gets to live.
Jenna has done an amazing job with Pepper so far. Taking on a difficult case like this as a first time foster mom is no small task. She's a rockstar and Pepper is showing so much progress day after day. He absolutely loves his foster brother, Marshmallow, and even adores his human foster sister, Alyssa. Alyssa is a special 12 year old - she has a deep understanding of animals and Pepper is obviously able to pick up on her sensitivity. Alyssa reports that Pepper loves head rubs and neck rubs. She even wrote his Petfinder page biography! Peppercorn is getting closer to being ready for his forever home every day. He needs to go to a home with at least one other small dog. He values Marshmallow's companionship and draws a great deal of confidence and comfort from his presence. Little Marshy, at 2.8 pounds, is Pepper's role model. How cute is that?! He has brought Pepper out of his shell and helped remind him how to DOG, as we say. Pepper's really blossoming into a good little dog. He's learning to trust his people more each day and his behavior at home is really spot on. He's not a barker - even when his foster mom comes home after a long day at work, Pepper just quietly bounces up and down waiting for her affection. No barking, no crying. He takes his treats gently, eats his food like a champ, goes potty where he's supposed to, and goes straight into his crate at bedtime without hesitation. Don't believe it? See for yourself how far he's come in this video:
See? Told you his foster mom is a rockstar! The only thing Pepper is still working on is trusting people outside of the home. Remember, he's a little spicy as we say, so once he's had enough he lets you know he's done. That's ok though - it's very valuable to have a dog who gives good warnings like that. Growling is Pepper's way of communicating to us that he has had enough social time and would like his space now. That's honestly no different than with people. At home, he can go to his bed or his crate when he needs his space. He's doing a good job with that. When he's at an adoption event, it's a bit tougher for him to cope because there's no break from the action. So, Pepper needs all the help he can get finding a forever home. He needs people who can see past his scared exterior to the endearing little dog that lives beneath the facade. We know that may take some time, longer than most, but that's ok. We will wait as long as needed for Pepper's perfect match to find him. He has the luxury of time now, you see? Time, patience, love, and commitment. Those are so important to success for any dog, but especially for dogs like Pepper who need a little extra. Thank you, Jenna, for giving him these things in preparation for his furever. If you're interested in applying to adopt Pepper, please email info@jakeswishrescue.org for more information. In the meantime, please share this post, his videos, his photos, and his Petfinder page far and wide to help us find his furever home: https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/31950316
So, why do we bother with "undesirable" Chihuahuas like Peppercorn? Because they need our help the most. We worked overtime for Pepper because we knew there was more to him than sadness. He deserves a chance at happiness and comfort just as much as those three pound Chihuahuas, those happy go lucky puppies, those purebred pedigreed show dogs, and every other creature out there. He just needs a little extra help getting there. That's what we do. That's what rescue is all about. If I stop advocating dogs like Peppercorn, I lose a big part of my purpose. Thank you, Jake's Wish, for taking a stand with me and committing to yet another underdog like Peppercorn. Thank you, Jenna, for opening your home to him and working so hard to make him "desirable". His furever will come.
6/6/15 PUPDATE on Peppercorn: Drew
and I are now fostering Pepper. After spending a month with Jenna, he had to come to us when her dog started having health troubles. Pepper is still quite "peppery" (read: temperamental, cranky, particular, and prone to temper tantrums), but he is progressing a bit each day. He still spends most of his time in his crate (of his own volition - it's his comfort zone), but he's starting to come out more and more. His favorite spot is on the arm of the couch next to the sliding glass door where he can nap in the sun and watch hummingbirds drinking from the balcony feeder. He's becoming more open to cuddling and loves blankets. Once in a while, if he's in a good mood, he'll play a round of tug. For Pepper, tug involves a lot of nasty noises and frustration release. He still tries to get the other dogs to play with him, although they aren't interested. We are working on potty training - he still marks if we don't keep an eye on him. Pepper went to the vet last week and got a clean bill of health other than dental tartar. The vet said his ears look ragged because they were chewed up by another animal. Who knows for sure, but the bottom line is that there's nothing we can do to make them look better. They're just a testament to his hard knocks. Anyhow, Pepper isn't ready for adoption just yet, but he is making strides in that direction. We will continue to work on socialization and everyday coping skills in the meantime. It's going to be a challenge to get him adopted. We will need all the help we can get spreading the word about Pepper's plight. Stay tuned for more pupdates on Peppercorn! 8/3/15 UPDATE: After a couple months with us, Peppercorn's behavior seemed to plateau. He wasn't showing much improvement and seemed to be withdrawn all the time. He spent most of his time in his crate (voluntarily) or on a dog bed in a corner with his back toward everyone else. I began to wonder whether he'd do better as an only dog in a quieter home. We do have a lot of dogs and while he did ok with them, I wanted to make sure he had a chance to reach his full potential. He'd become super easy and part of our routine, so no extra bother to us, but he just wasn't becoming more adoptable. Given these observations, we made the decision to "trade" Peppercorn with another foster home in exchange for the two foster Chis that this other foster person had. He's now the only dog in his foster home and enjoys that immensely. When he comes to events and is around other dogs, he has the capacity to behave nicely around them because he's not burnt out from having so many dogs around constantly. His foster dad understands that he's not a snuggler and is completely ok with that. Pepper appreciates the space and respect he's given and they seem to really have a well-balanced relationship. He sleeps at the foot of his foster dad's bed and waits for him by the door when he comes home from work. Pepper prefers human males over females and he definitely seems to do better as an only critter. He needs an adopter who won't mind that he isn't overly affectionate - someone who doesn't want to cuddle much or pick him up and baby talk to him. That's just not his jam. And that's ok. So, I'm really glad he's doing well. It was hard to let him go, but this is definitely a step in the right direction for Peppercorn. Paws crossed we can find someone like his foster dad who is looking to adopt!
Woohoo, Cheddar found his forever home today! He was one of several JW pups adopted out at the We Dog Care First Birthday Bash this afternoon. I'll be sure to make a post on that soon so everyone can see how awesome WDC is, but for now, we'll focus on Cheddar. I'm thrilled for him to be in a household that's active and playful. Our home is quiet again, this time for a while as we're taking a break for a month due to travel plans. We'll miss Cheddar, but it's awesome knowing he won't be bored anymore and it's nice for our dogs to get some peace and quiet. They really put up with a lot from the crazy red-tailed firefox!
Cheddar & his new family!
Cheese Man hit the jackpot with his new folks. You see, Cheddar is all smiles and wags at home, but as soon as he gets outside of his comfort zone he retreats into a nervous shell. Meeting his adopters at WDC was very scary for him, but they fell head over heels despite his tail-tucked first impression. I'm super grateful that his new people were able to look past the scared little dog they met today and imagine the "real" Cheddar with all of his spunkiness and joy. I am so excited for them to meet that Cheddar once he gets settled in with them at home. Out of all the dogs we've fostered, Cheddar did the most drastic 180 from shelter to home. His personality completely changed. I can't wait for his new family to see that side of him - the cheesy Cheddar who springboards off furniture, grins from ear to ear, rabid dog runs around the living room at 100mph, and entertains nonstop with his antics. Oh, Cheddar also gets a canine sibling out of the deal! His new Husky sister, Banksy, will surely keep him busy wrestling and playing day after day. Paws up for Cheddar and his first day of furever!
Settling in together
Siblings out for a walk
PUPDATE! Cheddar's first day in his furever home went very well. His mom says he and Banksy are well-matched energetically and even insisted on holding Cheddar's leash on their evening walk. They're playing great together and Cheddar is settling in well. Yay, Cheddar! Check out all the pawsome photos of him enjoying Banksy's company.
Meet Mr. Cheddar Cheese Man! He's a 2ish year old Red Tailed Firefox PapiPom (that's a Papillon / Pomeranian mix for you newbs). Cheddar has a double sided backstory. He originally came into the San Jose shelter as a stray back in January. He made his way into adoptions with his cute looks and sweet demeanor. Things were looking up for Cheddar, until his 88 year old adopter realized she couldn't keep up with his energy and acknowledged the danger of her tripping and falling over Cheddar. So, Cheddar found himself back at the shelter, this time as an owner surrender. Unfortunately, he didn't pass his behavioral evaluation this go around. Instead of the happy go lucky red dog they'd seen the first time, Cheddar was tense and nervous. He didn't make it into adoptions and found himself on the needs rescue list with a date on his head. You know how this story goes - I went in to do assessments and fell in love with Cheddar when he crawled into my lap. I always feel kind of bad taking an easy foster, but he was out of time and ready to roll. So, we rolled.
Cheddar is a nut. He runs around the house like a tasmanian devil. He thinks it's great fun to leap onto my lap and smother me with kisses until I can't breathe anymore. Also ears. He thinks ears taste delicious. He's a pretty intense little critter when it comes to affection, but he's so quiet it sort of balances out. We've had him for almost a week now and still haven't heard him bark once. He might whine occasionally or give a little "play with me" whimper, but no barking. He just smiles. All the time. That's how we settled on the name Cheddar, because he's always cheesin'.
Say cheese!
Even though our three guys are old geezers who don't really care to play much, Oliver is a good sport when Cheddar ambushes him. He tolerates Cheddar jumping up and down on him, chewing on his neck fat, chomping at his ankles, and licking his face trying to rile him up. Once in a while Oliver will give in and romp with him for a few, but usually he just stands there until Cheddar gives up and moves on to the next best thing. He's definitely a young dog who would really like some kids or another playful pup to wear him out throughout the day.
Although Cheddar didn't really need us per say, he needed out. The shelter was so tight on small dog space that week that I couldn't very well leave him behind, fully vetted and ready for adoption. So he's crashing with us for a while. I'm sure he'll get adopted super fast. He's a pretty easy little guy and would make a great first dog, apartment dog, kids' dog, multi-dog family dog, etc. I'm just glad he gets a third chance. That's all for now - stay tuned to hear how things turn out for Cheddar!
Ok, moving forward after that sad bye bye Herman post. I've got happy stuff to share! Douille, the Sausage King of San Jose (now Dewey, the Slim Stud of San Francisco), is doing fantastically in his forever home. His mom sent me a ton of pictures, videos, and pupdates on him. He's settling in wonderfully since his adoption back in December and enjoying all the family dogs. Here's the latest from Brittany, his mom:
"The little sausage is doing amazing. Everyday more and more of his personality shows. He's been cuddling with me at night under the covers. I bought him these Santa mice cat toys which he absolutely loves! Chester is crazy about him and Dewey is starting to not mind Chester. I'm at my parent's house now. He has been so friendly with their American bull dog and English bulldog. The first thing he did when he saw them was give them kisses. He's been super playful with them! Dewey and the American bull dog (Jake) have been taking turns playing chase. His diet is going well although he does manage to find any little crumb on the floor. Potty training has been good. He's been going outside and using the pee pee pads. I am so in love with him. I adore his beautiful hazel eyes, big ears, and scrunchy nose that goes to the side when he sniffs. My whole family is actually pretty jealous. They've all been asking for their Dewey time. Thank you so much for this amazing gift!"
So that feels pretty great! I can't think of a creature that deserves a happily ever after more than Dewey. That little guy is so full of love and kindness! We miss him around here and are so glad he's thriving with his amazing family. Huge thanks to Brittany for sending and letting me share all these great pictures & videos, too. I'm pretty sure Dewey is our first foster dog to have his very own "good morning" song! Check it out here:
Dewey loves playing with his cousin, English Mastiff Chester. Dewey loves to snuggle, so I knew they'd grow to be good buddies. I'm sure Chester is quite the furry furnace! Here's a short video of Dewey & Chester playing at home:
Brittany's doing a nice job of helping Dewey keep the sausage weight off, too! Now that he's much slimmer and has a buddy to play with all the time, he can really move around. Here he is showing off his speed at the park in his fancy little sweater:
I went to the shelter in early January with a friend to check out a bunch of dogs. We had a list of nine dogs to parse through, one of which I wrote down simply because his intake photo reminded me greatly of Flea. He'd been on the rescue list for days and I paused at his photo every time I scrolled through the pages of faces. "Another male brown Chihuahua, just what every rescue always wants!" - said no one ever. Regardless, I'm sort of the champion of Chihuahuas, so we headed in to see this guy. He sat huddled in the back corner of his kennel, a little brown ball with giant forward-facing eyes and the tiniest face I'd ever seen. He didn't bark or freeze when we approached, but he didn't jump up to greet us either. I scooped him up with his blanket and we took him to the courtyard.
Those eyes!
Please take me with you
Once in the courtyard, the little brown critter just sort of stood on his blanket for a minute and looked at us. I wasn't sure how friendly he'd be. His kennel card said fearful, but he had no other behavioral notes. He was rescue only due to a mild heart murmur and dental tartar. We sat on the ground near him and gave him a few minutes to consider his next move. He decided standing very still was his best option. I reached my hand out and received a small lick in return. He approached my friend, sniffed her leg for a brief moment, then climbed up into her lap. As she gently scratched his head, he melted into oblivion. At one point he looked upward as if thanking the heavens for this moment of serenity. This 4.8 pound stray from King & Story Road caught our hearts with his quiet demeanor and soulful eyes. 15 minutes later, I knew I had to get him out. Thanks, Sara, for bringing him out of his shell.
I pulled Mini Flea under the umbrella of Jake's Wish Dog Rescue later that week and brought him home to foster. Drew and I were a bit nervous because we already had Shiva (the White Shepherd teenager) and this new guy was just so small and vulnerable. Turns out, they did fine together. In fact, little critter did fine with everyone! He fit in seamlessly with our crew; it was like he'd been with us all along. Now, what to name this funny little bug? I was thinking along the lines of typical goofy Chi names like Taco, Mojo, Poquito, etc. Drew, a bit over the whole "what are we going to name the new guy" conversation, busted out with Herman just to annoy me. Herman, really?! He was like yeah, you know, short for hermanito (little brother in Spanish). There was no way I was giving this guy such a humdrum old man name like Herman. Until it stuck. I found myself debating names for the next few hours, but calling him Herman all the while. I thought it was funny that Drew tossed out this ridiculous name and it turned out to be the one we went with. It just fit him. I don't know why. So, he became Herman. Over time, some of his MANY nicknames turned out to be Hermie, Herminator, Hermwise Gamgee, Hermit, Hermit the Not Dog (like Kermit the Frog), German, Germie, Germinator, Germit, Hermanito, Hermano, Herms, Squirmy, and Squirman (because he squirmed around all the time). Points for Drew and his backfired naming strategy. Herman had a name.
Herman, Oliver, & Bunkin
It didn't take me long to fall in love. Herman was simply perfect. A potty trained stray male Chihuahua who wasn't neutered until 6 years old? That exists?! Yes, yes it does. Herman was perfectly potty trained from day 1. He also learned his name on day 1. I think he's quite a bright little critter. His behavior was awesome; he earned free roam of the house almost immediately. We'd leave to go to dinner and food shopping and come back three hours later to find him in the exact same spot as we'd left him: on the living room dog bed in front of the fireplace. That was his spot. It's a gas fireplace, so even when it's off it stays nice and warm because of the pilot light burning. Herman
loved this. He'd roast his little Chihuahua booty all day long if we let him. Did I mention he didn't give a hoot about the other dogs? We had five dogs ranging from Herman's 4 pounds to Shiva the Shepherd's 80 pounds and he fit in seamlessly. He loved cuddling with Oliver, again because of warmth no doubt. Oliver let him climb all over him and snuggle in real good. We even caught him with Bunkin a time or two! Flea, not so much, but that's par for the course. Flea at least tolerated Herman. They shared a dog bed by the fire or a patch of sunlight every now and then. That's pretty generous for Flea. Oh yeah, bonus: Herman is hilarious. He kept us laughing all the time, whether with his crazy angry cat noises, his raspy bark, his back legs that barely touch the ground when he walks, his pre-meal ritual of rolling around on rugs, or his crazy attempts to make a nest inside a bunch of reusable grocery bags. He's a real clown. His quirks are truly endearing. And did I also mention that Herman even fit our crew's dress code? All three of our dogs happen to be brown males. It's an accident, honestly. They look similar enough that it's sort of a small, medium, large motif. Herman filled the XS vacancy. Can you spell sucker? I was in deep.
The fact that Drew also really liked Herman definitely didn't help my resilience. Herman slept perfectly in his crate in the other room the first few nights. Toward the end of week 1, he started howling overnight. We brought his crate in and set it next to our bed at nightstand-level, so he knew we were right there next to him. This worked for a couple nights, then the howling started again. Drew shocked me by immediately suggesting we just let him sleep in the bed with us and our three brown dogs. You've got to understand: Drew is seriously committed to the principle of fosters not sleeping in bed with us. As in no exceptions made, no "just for tonights", no "just while you're out of town", no "just to shut him/her up". It's one of the few hard lines we draw with fosters, for good reasons. We already have three dogs in our bed with us. It may be king-sized, but our sleep quality definitely suffers some nights because of overcrowding and overheating. The last thing we need is more dogs in the bed. There's also the "this is our dogs' special privilege" concept. Our guys put up with so much in the way of fostering. They share their home, their people, their toys, their couch, their everything. They need to know this is THEIR home, that THEY'RE the permanent residents here, and that there are some things that only THEY get to do. Sleeping in bed with us is one of those things. Depending on the foster, it's sometimes the only thing reserved just for them. It's a status thing. Beyond all of that, keeping fosters out of the bed helps keep me from getting that much more attached. Not to mention we have no idea what sort of sleeping habits their future adoptive parents will have. We don't want to ingrain undesirable habits; not everyone wants their dogs to sleep in bed with them, even though I want that for all of my fosters in their forever homes. Needless to say, when Drew just up and suggested Herman sleep in our bed, I was floored. Of course it worked - no more howling or crying in the night. He slept like a perfect angel snuggled in tight between our pillows or alongside Oliver. We were dealing with a pro snuggler.
Three weeks in, I said it out loud. Why don't we just keep Herman? I mean, he's perfect. He fits
in perfectly in every way. Keeping him wouldn't prevent us from continuing to foster - he's only the size of a fat guinea pig for pete's sake! And he gets along with everyone. Half the time I forget he's even around, he's so quiet and low maintenance. He's super sweet, loving, adorable, and brown. I mean hello, what's not to love? He's got Bowen written all over him, right? These were all my arguments for keeping Herman. Drew and I butted heads like mountain rams for a solid week on it. He cited several concerns. 1) Cost. But what cost? He's so small, he hardly eats anything! He's already vetted, he just had a dental, and I know several people who
would dog-sit him happily if we went on vacation. Cost wasn't an issue. 2) Four dogs. Ok, I'm not trying to have four dogs. Definitely not, I'll admit. The San Jose limit is three, so there's that. Plus think about whenever we move back across the country or try to rent another place - it's hard enough with three dogs. Heard, sort of. I mean, would we even have to disclose him? He's practically a guinea pig, like I said! He doesn't count as a fourth dog. 3) Fostering. If we have four dogs, we can only foster one at a time. Five dogs is our crazy limit, especially in our little townhome. We prefer to only have one foster at a time anyway, but it's nice to be able to take in a second if an emergency crops up. We'd lose that luxury, but we could still foster. 4) Flea. Flea is my baby. He is very sensitive. He gets very jealous when I bond with foster Chis. He was noticeably put out about
Herman, especially once he started sleeping in our bed. Keeping Herman would affect me and Flea's relationship, for sure. 5) Foster Fail. The big bad FF. Were we really going to do it on foster #30? And why? Because he's perfect and adorable? Because he's easy? Because why not? Those just didn't seem like good reasons to foster fail. Not now, not this far in. And Drew was right - if we were going to foster fail, shouldn't it be for a dog that wouldn't otherwise get successfully placed? Not on Herman, a dog that could pretty much do fantastically with anyone. We should reserve that space for the truly unadoptable, like Flea for instance. No one else would have taken him. We're like the island of misfits.
I mean, honestly...
After much discord and struggle, we unofficially decided to keep Herman. We took him off of Petfinder and the Jake's Wish website. He stopped going to adoption events. I even took his index card off of my adoptables board at work and filled out the adoption form. But something wasn't right. Keeping Herman was all I dreamed of, all I focused on, all I wanted for the past couple of weeks. Now that I had my way, I couldn't settle on it. I still wrestled with the idea day in and day out, which told me it wasn't right. Of all of Drew's points, #s 4 and 5 resonated with me. I couldn't "betray" Flea, so to speak and I couldn't resign myself to foster failing this far along. Herman, as much as I loved him and as well as he fit in with us, would make someone an amazing companion. I had to let him go. I knew I could do it - I've done it 29 times before - I knew it would hurt like hell, but I knew I could do it. I had to do it. It's what we do.
Got snuggles?
I dutifully began taking Hermit to adoption events again. He went back up on Petfinder and on the JW site. I steeled myself for the inevitable moment when we received a good application. I spent every day with Herman like it was our last. I snuggled him, cuddled him, babied him, and pampered him. Flea could deal temporarily. Hermie protested adoption events. Drew felt bad for him and said it was because he "thought he was home already". That made me feel like a steaming pile of you know what. My emotions were all over the place on this one. I even started to say, "well, if he's had no interest in two weeks' time, then I'm fine with just keeping him after all". Cop out. Looking for an easy way out. There was no easy way out. I was staring at a band aid that needed to be ripped off clean, no way around it. Then the perfect application arrived.
My favorite Herman photo
Saturday night, Drew and I delivered Herman to his forever home in Cupertino. I'm sitting here, deep into a fat glass of wine, and I can't tell you how much it hurts to write this. All of it. To recount my emotional roller coaster of a journey with this little creature, to relive how I fell in love with him, to hash out how I had to let him go. It's a sort of torturous cathartic exercise. My chest is so tight it feels like I'm going to implode, but I know we did the right thing. We fostered a great love and then let it go so it can thrive. His family is great: a mom and dad who are retired and home all the time, a teenage human sister who fell in love with him at first sight, a Rat Terrier canine brother named Max who likes to play, and a feline sibling named Sheba who loves to snuggle with dogs. Honestly, Hermit hit the jackpot.
Hermie rode in my lap as I drove to his new home, seemingly attuned to my distress. I carried him inside, held onto him for a few minutes, then set him down to meet Max. That was the last time I held Herman. Shortly afterward, his human sister scooped him up and he just sat there perfectly content in her arms, as though he'd known her forever. I could tell they had a special bond, one that will grow over the years into a great love. He's usually iffy with new people, but he was completely at ease with her. We signed the paperwork and I excused myself before I lost it. Herman licked my finger on the way out. That was it. Tears came before I walked to the end of Herman's new driveway. It wasn't an easy night. I was ill, but I knew it was right. I know Herman has a wonderful family who loves him tremendously and I know we made the right choice for our family. Flea is already noticeably happier now that he has me "back", all to himself. Our home is quiet, so quiet, with just our three guys. We need the downtime after difficult ones like this. I need to remember how much I have to appreciate, how good my own boys are, and how nice our routine is. As tempting as it is to rebound with a brand new foster, I need a moment to cleanse my palate. Our dogs deserve that, too. I wouldn't be surprised if they feel a little weird after Herman's departure. The truly great ones affect all of us. For me, it's Pickles and Herman. For Drew, it's Cowboy and Shiva. I have to say, it sort of feels good to have this tremendous pain. It reminds me of my humanity and it's a very intense process to go through - I always learn a little more about myself. And I'm always stronger for it in the end. Here's to love, saving lives, and forging ahead. Most of all, here's to Herman's happy tail.
A couple weeks passed and his skin began to show signs of healing: scabs. Bruises and scabby patches where he'd scratched himself the worst indicated that his body felt it had sufficient resources to designate toward rejuvenation as opposed to inflammation. A white flag from the immune system; a sign of peace instead of war; light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. They say certain things often get worse before they get better. I'd say Phin's skin was a visual example of this sentiment. He looked like he'd been dragged through gravel and kicked around the ribs, but I found myself smiling at his scabs and bruises because I knew their significance. We cut our medicated baths down to once per week as not to overly dry his healing skin.
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