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."
I got a call from St. Francis Animal Protection Society one afternoon, saying that they could use my help figuring out a quick solution to a sensitive case. After a couple phone calls and some speed dial networking, I was on standby to receive another foster dog under Jake's Wish Dog Rescue. Without sharing details, here's Ziggy's story. It's a great example of rescue networking and folks working together for animal welfare. Ziggy came to us from a domestic violence situation. Although Ziggy was never harmed, his human mom had to flee her home and leave him behind. She bravely had a family member reach out to St. Francis APS and put together a plan for Ziggy's rescue. It took almost three weeks to get Ziggy out of his home and into foster with us, and once it happened it was very sudden. I had about an hour's notice before Ziggy was dropped off at my work in his crate, confused and stressed. 2 years old, 15 pounds, unaltered, full of fleas, overgrown nails, and eating grocery store food. Sigh.
This is his "I'm fancy" pose
Oh yeah, Ziggy happens to be a papered Designer Dog! He's a Pugillon - his sire was a Pug and his dam a Papillon. I wish I could share their full names because they're hilarious, but I'm afraid that might shed light on identities. I gave Ziggy a new name along with his fresh start in life. His old name was nowhere near as great as his parents', anyhow. Ziggy is a registered AKC Hybrid. In other words, he fancy. That underbite, that curled tail, that smushed face? Somebody paid big bucks for that mess. I'll admit - part of me took a small thrill in neutering a "designer dog". Hah. So here's this fancy pants breeder dog who came to me in worse shape than a lot of stray mutts I pull from the shelter. Frustrating.
We had some serious work to do with this little dog. He was very loved by his people, but I think when your husband is beating the crap out of you, bathing and training and caring for the dog takes a bit of a backseat. Ziggy was infested with fleas and had a terrible skin infection from scratching constantly. He was absolutely miserable. He also had crazy separation anxiety, no doubt as a result of being in a turbulent home environment for some time and now suddenly ripped away from his people. Barely a moment went by without Ziggy shrieking at the top of his lungs. I couldn't even shut the bathroom door without him losing his mind. The fact that we didn't receive any complaints from neighbors that first week is nothing short of a miracle sent from the dog gods. So, we got to work setting strict boundaries and teaching Ziggy proper manners. He needed to learn his place and figure out what it meant to be in a stable home where rules apply to everyone.
a structured Ziggy = a happy Ziggy
Our second week with Ziggy was much better. He'd gotten neutered and seemed to feel more confident around the house with us. He slept nicely in his crate next to our bed and no longer had a panic attack if I disappeared around the corner for a moment. He picked out some favorite toys and learned which of the dogs in our house enjoyed playing with him. He also learned which dogs didn't enjoy playing with him, which was an important lesson for him to grasp. I grew pretty darn fond of Ziggy while we had him, despite his neuroses. Someone else saw past the quirks and fell in love with his crazy mug...Ziggy was adopted after two weeks with us! So, rescue isn't restricted to mutts in need. All breeds of dogs end up in shelters, sadly, and/or in need of rescue assistance from time to time. Looking for a specific breed? Get in touch with a local rescue group. They can help do some of the legwork for you. Obviously, we don't get Pugillons in the shelter every day, but as long as you have patience you will find what you're looking for. Hardly a week goes by where I don't see a Golden Retriever or a Boston Terrier or a ShihPoo or a Maltipoo stuck in the shelter. Hard knocks don't discriminate. Ziggy can tell you that firsthand, although he luckily avoided having to go to the shelter. Cheers to Jake's Wish & St. Francis APS for saving a life together!
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!
This adorable little girl's name is Koa. She came into Santa Clara County Animal Control as a stray and Jake's Wish couldn't resist her sparkly eyes. Koa is 4 months old, 30 pounds, and just oh so sweet. She has a very mild case of demodectic mange. It's localized to just a couple patches here on her side and feet, so the vets are hopeful it will simply clear up on its own as she matures. All dogs carry demodex mites. Whether they develop mange is a matter of how overrun with the mites they become and how well their immune system is able to battle the mite population. Young dogs that are in stressful situations are more prone to developing a case of mange. It always seems like it's most often pitties that have demodex, but all breeds are equally susceptible. Perhaps it's just because pitties make up a larger percentage of the stray population. Puppies get the mites from their mother as they're born. Not all puppies in a litter may end up with mange, just the ones that have weaker immune systems. Basically, it's more of a sensitivity than anything else. Demodex isn't contagious like scabies (sarcoptic mange is highly contagious...our Bunkin had this when we got him). We saw some seriously horrible mange cases back in Atlanta: dogs with no fur left and their skin reduced to a full-body oozing scab, reeking of decay, dying of secondary infection and organ failure. Koa's will never be like this. You probably won't even notice anything in her photos.
ZzzzzZzzzz
Koa is a super mellow pup, which is of course awesome. Most of the time she just follows us around the house or rests on one of the dog beds in the living room. She knows what antlers and nylabones are for and she'll spend a good while chewing on them while she lounges. When she is feeling playful, she entertains herself by tossing ropes and other toys in the air and chasing them. At most, she'll do a couple gallops across the living room and maybe try to convince Oliver to play with her. That's pretty much it! She does enjoying going to We Dog Care doggy daycare and getting to be a little rowdy with her friends every now and then, but she certainly doesn't need to do that every day. Other than having to potty train and watch out for inappropriate chewing, it doesn't much feel like we have a puppy in the house. Fine by me! She's just a really good girl.
Koa at Hermitage
One of Koa's nicknames is Baby Hippo. She's none too graceful, she guzzles water, weighs a good solid beefcake ton, and makes these ridiculous deep snorting noises when she's excited. In fact, I think she learned to answer to Hippo before Koa, but that's ok. She knows both now. At We Dog, they call her Baby Shark because of her smooth sleek silvery coat and sharp puppy teeth. Every time I go to pick her up from daycare, one of the handlers is always holding her. I get home and wonder why she's not entirely pooped out - it's because all she does at daycare is snuggle with the hoomans! Silly Hippo. Everybody loves her and she loves everybody. She even gets along with cats. This pup is a piece of cake. We took her to Hermitage Brewery with us the other day and people just took turns asking if they could walk her the whole time. It was pretty great. Easy tip for getting dogs adopted: brewery photos. Works every time (knock on wood).
Who you callin' Hippo?!
Other than Zeke and Girl, both of which were super quick cases I did 1,000 years ago before knowing anything about rescue, we've never had a pittie before. Koa is our first. I don't know how we've gotten this deep without ever fostering a pittie, as they're the breed in the most need. Shortly after we moved here, someone said to me, "Oh, but you guys don't do pit bulls though!" and I said "What?!" before I realized we hadn't done one. We've fostered so many dogs that at this point it looked like we actually made an effort to not foster pits. I had to fix that! I'm not great at the whole "you shouldn't care what other people think" thing to begin with, but jeez I can't stand to have folks thinking that about us. We foster everybody and give them all the love they deserve. Just so happened that Jake's Wish needed a place for Miss Hippo, so there ya have it.
Pit bulls: they'll snuggle you to death
Cue crash course in being a pit bull [foster] parent. It hasn't even been a week and I've already had abundant opportunity to receive ignorant comments from folks about my [foster] dog. Within 5 minutes of arriving at the brewery, a lady asked us, "Is that a pit bull?" and then saying "how lucky we are to have gotten her before she was abused". I just smiled begrudgingly and explained that she's just as much of a blank slate as any other puppy. The next day at work, a customer and I were chatting about his teething puppy over nylabones. I laughed and, in an attempt to commiserate with him, mentioned that I've got a pittie puppy at home who likes to run with her mouth open, so I feel his pain about sharp puppy teeth. Instead of understanding the happy goofy puppy image I was going for, the guy looked horrified and warned me to "watch out for that" because "those dogs can turn dangerous fast when they're not raised right". Another WTF moment. My puppy teething is no different than your puppy teething, but because mine's a pit and yours is a lab, I can't talk about mine without incurring a safety lecture. Well, that's stupid. Today I ran across a lady who was absolutely certain Koa couldn't possibly be good with cats, no matter how many times I affirmed that she is. None of this is surprising to me in theory because I know how the story goes, but it's been interesting to experience firsthand. Mind you, Koa is a beautiful, super sweet, affectionate, quiet, well-behaved puppy. If people say stupid garbage like this about her now, I can only imagine what it'll be like when she weighs 50 pounds and loses her derpy baby face.
The struggle is real. My friends who are real pittie parents carry around an extra burden: an added level of accountability that is based solely on the breed of their dog and the ignorant generalizations surrounding it. See, I'm a bad pet parent: Oliver and Bunkin go to the dog park without their rabies tags on their collars sometimes. Just their name tags with my phone number. I know exactly where they are - at home, tucked away in the office filing cabinet. If something happened, I'd have to run home and get them on the way to the shelter / vet / wherever. No big deal, right? **[And yes, I know I really shouldn't do this]** Pittie parents don't have the luxury of being lax or negligent like that. They know their dogs don't go
anywhere without all their tags and licensing, because if something happens, it's going to be their fault. They aren't treated the same as terriers and retrievers. Any dog might react differently in stressful situations than they'd normally act (getting startled, tail stepped on, a jerky dog at the park, etc), but if a pit bull gets scared and bites someone or someone else's pet, there will be a witch hunt. It's a daily fear for pittie parents that their dog gets in a tussle with another dog or person and not only gets blamed, but "proves" the breed stereotype right. It's sort of like waking up every day feeling like you've got to prove yourself. This may be your amazing, beloved, sweet-hearted couch dog, but there's still that nagging fear in the back
of your mind every day that if he ever does anything less than perfect, it's over. It's not just a risk for your one dog that you're worried about, it's the ramifications on all the other amazing bully breeds out there that's truly terrifying. Nobody else has to carry that burden. People know my Chihuahua is a jerk, but they don't just assume all Chis are like that. Unfortunately, pitties are victims of gross generalization. The pit never gets the benefit of the doubt, a second chance, an even shake, or any of that stuff. Just because he's a pit. It's not fair.
It's one of my many doggy hopes that bully breeds someday soon regain their status as America's family dog. My hat goes off to all of you who advocate for these guys. Koa sends hippo kisses to Bruce, Bailey, Thor, Zaxby, Grace, Lacey, Rosie, Tank, and our other often misunderstood friends. Koa's proud to be a pit bull and we're proud to be her foster parents. For more information on adopting Koa, visit www.jakeswishrescue.org
Bonus happy tails alert! Remember Katie Holmes and Suri Cruise? I posted about their transport to NJ and adoptions a couple months ago. I've been super fortunate to receive continued updates on both of these precious girls since their adoptions. I really want to share with you how happy they are in their forever homes and just how adorable they both look. Huge thanks to both of their new families for taking the time to share these wonderful pictures and updates with me! It warms my heart to see their new lives. I couldn't have dreamed of more for Katie and Suri / Kit and Zoe! First up: Miss Katie Holmes, now Kit! Judging from these pictures and her mom's correspondence, Kit is as adorable and feisty as ever. Kit's mom says her skin (remember how awful it was from the flea bites?) is doing pretty well overall. That one bad spot flared up a little due to the super cold weather, but with continued fish oil supplements and an antibiotic shot from the vet it seems to be under control. Wearing sweaters helps keep Kit from scratching and prevents flare ups, too. How conveniently cute! Love it. She's settled in beautifully with her new siblings. Check out how pawsome she looks in her fancy Christmas dress and Santa suit!
Suri / Zoe then...
...Suri / Zoe now!
Next up: Suri Cruise, now Zoe! Just. Look. At. Her. Squeeeeeee!!! Zoe's mom emailed me this picture. It's a good thing she told me who it was because I would never have recognized our little baby girl! Oh my goodness! She is so grown up and big! And surprise: she still looks absolutely nothing like her mama. Hah! What a goofy pair these girls are, honestly. I hear Zoe's about ten pounds now. She was barely five when we sent her on transport. I just can't believe how much she's grown and changed. Dachshund? Yeah, right! She looks like a baby Boxer or Mastiff. How ridiculous! Again, the only telling trait is the double dewclaw phenomenon. Otherwise you'd never know Zoe was Kit's puppy. Zoe's doing great. She's learning how to play politely and continuing her potty training. Check out her transformation! That's all I have for now. Just wanted y'all to see the pawsomeness of rescue pupdates! Paws up for Zoe & Kit!
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.
