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.
Intake photo showing injured foot and shock collar
Every morning, our shelter's "needs rescue" list is emailed to me and a bunch of other local rescue representatives. Almost a month ago, a little Dachshund mix with an injured paw showed up on the list. He was wearing a shock collar and had the most awful tear stains. Drew said he looked like he'd been crying for days. His eyes stared through his intake photo at me and begged for help. Sometimes you can just see their gentle souls through their eyes. This was one of those dogs. I knew him as SB02, his kennel number. We started calling him "foot dog", which wasn't really much better than SB02. Drew and I went to meet him & we knew we had to have him. I went inside his kennel and sat down next to him to get some better pictures and an idea of his demeanor. Despite all the pain he must have been in, he was so sweet and loving. He hobbled over next to me and laid down while I rubbed his ears. He was so much cuter in person than in his intake photo - young, white and cream colored, super soft, and stretchy like a wiener mix. Oh, and he had the most fantastic overbite I'd ever seen. He reminded me of derp master Tuna of internet fame: http://www.tunameltsmyheart.com/
Waffles in his kennel at the shelter
A few days later, we pulled "foot dog" under Jake's Wish Dog Rescue and brought him home to safety. He hopped out of the shelter like a champ on three legs. Nothing was going to stand in his way - he was heading for the good life now. It was so sad knowing he belonged to someone who bothered to put a shock collar on him, but didn't bother to go looking for him when he ended up in the shelter. A lovely owner, for sure. And no - he's not a barky guy. His foot looked rough, so I bandaged it for the first day we had him in order to keep him from stress licking. This made it worse, so we went open air healing and cone of shame from that point on until it dried up enough to stop oozing. We suspected he'd gotten hit by a car. He had a few other minor scrapes and bruises on his body, but just the bad one on his foot. Fortunately, x-rays showed no broken bones. After our experience with Raven's horrible carpal wound, which was far worse than this guy's, we knew we could get him fixed up no problem. You can read my main post on Raven's story here: http://ohfortheloveofdogs.blogspot.com/2013/10/raven-rough-start-for-sweet-girl.html
Waffles and his derptastic overbite
We needed to come up with a name for "foot dog", so we enlisted the help of Facebook and asked our friends to chime in. One of our friends in Chicago suggested "Waffles". We are from Atlanta where chicken and waffles is sort of a popular thing, however goofy it may seem. We decided to go with Waffles because of his goofy personality. He needed a silly sort of name. Turns out a lot of Californians don't really understand the whole chicken and waffles bit, but oh well. Waffles it is. As with every dog who comes through our house, Waffles has loads of nicknames: Waffy, Waffular, Chicken And, Waffle Taco, and Waffle Cone while he had to wear the cone of shame. I mean, really, how could we resist?
Waffles enjoying the comfy couch
Waffles has the best personality ever. He's so ridiculously excited about life itself - it's contagious. He's happy-go-lucky, wiggly, snuggly, lovey, and just downright aderpable. I love his zest for life and his enthusiasm for everything. He's always happy to see you and he's never met a stranger. He loves other dogs and gets everyone to play. I just love his spirit. He's really a special little guy. Waffles will make a fantastic family dog. He'd love to have kids and other dogs to play with, then snuggle up with the family at night. It's just so wonderful to see him enjoying a comfortable life with the promise of safety and love. He deserves nothing less. Earlier this week, Drew and I traded foster dogs with our rescue friends. Waffles went to their house and we took their foster, Mischa, who needs a change of scenery and extra socialization. Waffles is doing great at their house so far. He's got his favorite spot on the couch all figured out and he's loving their other dogs. I took him to the vet for a foot check up this morning. It's healing really nicely, with the exception of one toe. The nail looks pretty dead and will likely fall off, but that's ok. He's on antibiotics to ward off infection and he gets his foot soaked twice daily in a medicated rinse. How nice...anyhow, you can see how much progress his foot has made in just four short weeks! It's pretty amazing how resilient dogs are and how well they heal. Hopefully that toe improves.
Waffles is bearing weight pretty well on all fours. He still goes to three legs when he runs really fast or if he's feeling lazy, but for the most part I think he'll go back to walking normally once he's completely healed. He should be ready for adoption events in another week or so. Waffles is just such a special little critter. He's going to make someone out there super happy, we know it. He makes us laugh every day with his goofy face and wiggly booty. Then he melts our hearts when he curls up for snuggles in the evening. We're thankful that he gets to have a life beyond the identity of "foot dog" and that he finally knows what love feels like. Stay tuned for more on this low-rider goofball as he continues his journey toward furever! He's listed on Petfinder here if you'd like more adoption information: https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/31509770
It'd been a while since we'd had a shepherd and Drew was itching for another one. It was just before Christmas and Jake's Wish Dog Rescue was in need of a new foster home for one of their dogs: a gorgeous female White Shepherd who needed crate rest for a month. Shiva came into rescue from the San Martin shelter, where she'd been dumped as an owner surrender because she grew bigger than expected. Shiva weighed 78 pounds at 10 months old. That is a BIG girl. She blew breed standards out of the water; a typical White Shepherd female weighs 55-65 pounds full grown. Still, what sort of jackwagon dumps their dog because she grew 15 pounds more than they expected? It's not like she was supposed to be small. Unfortunately, this happens a lot. Anyway, Shiva was adopted from the shelter and then returned the very next day because she didn't get along with the new people's dog right away. 24 hours. I guess they didn't feel like giving it a chance. So, after all of that disappointment early in life, Shiva ended up with Jake's Wish.
Pretty Lady
Back to why Shiva needed crate rest. The vet suspected a slight ACL injury and wanted to see if crate rest would make a difference before considering surgical repair. Her foster mom was about to go out of town, so we agreed to take Shiva (formerly Bella) and do our best to get her leg healed. Crate restis tough on everyone involved: the dog and the foster parents. You feel guilty for keeping the dog in the crate all the time, even though that's exactly what needs to be done. The dog feels slighted, agitated, and stir crazy after a certain amount of time spent day after day in the cage. Add in the fact that Shiva was a large breed puppy and you can imagine we had our work cut out for us. We'd done our fair share of strict crate rest before for heartworm recovery patients, FHO recovery, and of course for Raven the GSD with her awful carpal wound. None of those dogs were puppies though, so we were a bit nervous about this one.
Raw bone palooza!
The lying tug strategy
The first week wasn't too bad. Jake's Wish stocked us up on raw bones, giant Kongs, dental chews, and all kinds of long lasting goodies to keep Shiva busy while in her crate. Once the novelty of those things began to wear off, we took her for tiny little walks to the end of the street and back in an attempt to burn some energy without straining her leg. I worked on commands with Shiva to exercise her mind - mental stimulation is just as important as physical activity. She learned sit, down, stay, wait, leave it, go to your bed, and other basic rules of the house with ease. When she got crazy, I'd pull up a chair in front of her crate and work with her on these commands for 15 minutes at a time. It helped, but she still had so much restless puppy energy. Going for car rides helped a lot - she loved sticking her head out the window and
Car rides for fresh air
watching the world pass by with the wind in her face. It helped to just get her out of the house for a brief minute without fear of her over-doing it. She also learned how to play tug lying down. When you weigh that much, it's actually a pretty solid strategy. She'd hold onto the rope and just plop down on the ground, letting the other dog try to drag her dead weight across the room. That was entertaining for everyone. In the evenings, we like to gather up the dogs and watch TV as a family for a bit. Normally we wouldn't let a Shepherd up on the couch, as it's a pretty bad habit for such a big dog to develop, but TV time with the family was a good opportunity for Shiva to feel included and get some love without being wound up. So in all of these little ways, we made it work. Slowly but surely, Shiva's leg got stronger.
It wasn't always friendly tug of war and snuggles on the couch. Shiva was really not ok with our dogs when she first arrived. We had flashbacks to Raven, the only dog out of 30 fosters that we weren't able to integrate, and feared Shiva might be the second. It took a lot of work, vigilance, caution, and patience to integrate Shiva with our dogs. We honestly weren't sure it could be done at first, but with time and baby steps we saw her develop into a wonderful dog. She learned how to behave around each of our dogs, learned when enough was enough in terms of play, learned who preferred to be left alone, learned to look out for the little ones underfoot, and learned not to use her giant paws to bat during playtime. We worked on integration for just a little bit every evening so as to not get anybody's nerves frazzled. It's very difficult to overcome negative interactions once they happen, so we wanted to set everyone up for success as much as possible. Before long, Shiva became just another dog in our pack. We are proud of ourselves for that. Drew deserves most of the credit - integration is his magic power. It's amazing to look back to day one at the dog who couldn't control herself at the sight of any of our dogs, then compare that to the snuggly baby girl who lived to play and cuddle with her canine buddies two months later. She became best friends with Kato, the neighbor Shepherd, too. Shepherds can be really tough to integrate, especially with other non-Shepherd dogs, but I'm convinced it helps a ton when you start with a dog who has little life experience as opposed to a dog who already has habits and behaviors ingrained. Raven was 3-4 years old and had been through a lot. Not to say you can't teach an older dog new tricks or work to overcome a difficult past, but it wasn't worth risking safety in that case. Shiva, although she'd had a couple stints in animal control, didn't really seem like she'd been through anything that formed negative associations in her mind. She just needed to learn manners and how to properly behave around others. Overstimulation is much different than aggression or possessiveness - it's much more workable for us. Points for the puppy! We'd make this work yet. Check out the video of Shiva playing gently with another [tiny] Jake's Wish foster dog, Mischa:
Tired Shivers
After a month of crate rest, Shiva's leg didn't bother her anymore. She started going to an awesome doggy daycare each day to burn steam and get more socialization. We Dog Care was a great experience for Shiva. They let Jake's Wish foster dogs attend unlimited daycare for free. This was a lifesaver for us, because we are nowhere near active enough for Shiva's energy needs. She'd come home after a day's worth of play and just flop down exhausted. This improved her relationships with our dogs immensely. She didn't feel the need to harass them for play all the time, so they grew more relaxed around her. We were able to work on obedience with her more effectively when she didn't have so much pent up energy. All in all, the household dynamic finally hit its sweet spot. Then Shiva got sick.
Shiva went from being perfectly fine one day to sick as the proverbial dog the next. She had the worst explosive diarrhea I've ever seen and it just wouldn't stop. She had no energy whatsoever. On top of that, she developed a nasty cold. Her immune system was just demolished by some mystery bug. No parasites, no worms, no idea. She couldn't go to daycare being so sick, which was ok with her for the first few days. Once we got her GI issues under control (still no clue what it was), her cold became an upper respiratory infection. So, antibiotics for that, which upset her stomach again. It was a less than lovely week in our house. Her energy began to return, but she was still snotting green goop and having a hard time breathing clearly. She needed to stay out of daycare for another week, at least. This was a super frustrating period. We'd come so far with Shiva, only to be blindsided by this bout of illness and watch her behavior backslide due to the absence of her energy outlet. Next thing we know, Shiva's limping again. She'd been so sick that she'd hardly moved, so we knew she hadn't injured it. It wasn't the same sort of limp, either. This seemed to be her hip, not her knee. A couple days later, she began limping on her front right leg as well. At first I figured she was sore from compensating for the back leg, but the front just became worse and worse until she just laid in her crate all day. We were flabbergasted. Usually we take them in, see them through whatever illnesses / injuries / issues they have, then send them on their way to happily ever after. We'd done our job just as well as we always do in this case, but we'd hit an unexpected road block that sent us back to square one.
You mean I'll be ok, doc?
It was time for a serious trip to the vet. When her x-rays came back clean, I really began to worry. I was scared it had to be some sort of autoimmune issue causing this recurring lameness. Multiple limbs, different joints, on and off again. We ran a bunch of blood tests - nothing. It was just so bizarre. In light of all the negative test results, the vet concluded that Shiva was simply suffering from panosteitis: basically retroactive growing pains. The great majority of panosteitis cases present in male German Shepherds between 1-3 years old. Shiva is obviously female, but she is much larger than the typical female Shepherd. Panosteitis involves intense bone inflammation with pain and stiffness that comes and goes as flare-ups. There's nothing to do about it except use an anti-inflammatory during flare-ups. It will go away on its own with time. We breathed a great sigh of relief that Shiva wasn't plagued by some sort of left field autoimmune disease or horrible joint injuries that would destroy her life. She was going to be just fine. Once we knew Shiva was ok, we could finally carry on with her adoption process. We'd gotten loads of applications for her, but very few of them were good. When you've got a dog who is show-stoppingly gorgeous, not to mention a fairly unusual breed, you can expect to be flooded with applications of the "she's so pretty, I want her!" variety. 9 times out of 10, those applications are as good as garbage. Shepherds are not for everyone. They are a lot of work, cost a lot of money, and require a lot of doggy know-how. We wanted Shiva to go to someone who knew Shepherds - someone we could feel confident knew exactly the sort of commitment Shiva needed. Just as Shiva fell ill, we got a winning application. We told the woman we wanted to wait until she was healthy to do a meet and greet. She was perfectly understanding. When we had to tell her Shiva had fallen lame again, we thought for sure she'd take a hike. She didn't! This lady waited patiently while we tested Shiva for everything under the sun. She still wanted her. We were stressed, but we knew if she bailed that it would be ok. We'd wait for the best home for Shiva, whatever it took. Turns out, this lady was the best home for Shiva. She had a male White Shepherd who passed away at 9 years old and knew exactly what she was signing up for by committing to Shiva. Bingo. She's a hiker and she even works from home. Awesome. We couldn't ask for more and we know Shivrar is just so happy with her new mom.
Shiva was a very interesting challenge for us. Shepherds are always tough for us. We've got small dogs and we're relatively sedentary. We knew all of that already, but Shiva presented a whole extra set of challenges. I'm super proud of us for working through this one and finally ending up with a happy tail. Shiva became such a good, sweet, gentle girl. It was a pleasure to watch her go from an unruly pup to a well-mannered lady. She celebrated her 1st birthday with us on January 30 and I know she'll have several more wonderful years to enjoy life. We're grateful for Jake's Wish, for Shiva's first foster mom, and for We Dog Care. This one took a village, but it was such a rewarding effort. We love you, ShivRAAAAAR! Wag on, Great White Woman!
Shiva & her favorite toy: Mr. Purp
What's left of Mr. Purp
A word on Mr. Purp, the 3 foot long purple caterpillar. This toy was enormous and Shiva loved plush toys, so duh. It was a match made in heaven. Mr. Purp giggled maniacally every time Shiva kill-shook him. It was a bit disturbing. We are still finding pieces of Mr. Purp. He made the ultimate sacrifice and we'll never forget him.
I went to the shelter to do some routine assessments one night in November. Lo and behold,
there sat a gorgeous male Boston Terrier in one of the kennels. He was wearing a urine soaked red and white striped sweater, sitting there staring up at me with that same dorky expression all Bostons wear. His face looked like, "I don't know how I got here, but boy I'm sure glad I've still got my stinky sweater!". I had to get this doofus out, stat. I grew up with Bostons and this one looked just like my family's Buster, who passed away the previous Christmas. We named him Boomer, because all Bostons must have names that start with the letter "B". He was someone's dog, but no one ever came looking for him. Just goes to show it can happen to anybody.
It's always exciting when you find a highly desirable purebred dog in animal control, in a very annoying and sad kind of way. You can expect to be absolutely flooded with applications for a Boston Terrier, a Poodle, a French Bulldog, a Havipoo, a Labradoodle, [insert any designer dog you can think of here]. That's all fine and dandy, except that the perfectly behaved mutt who has been waiting for a home for months hasn't gotten a single decent application while the naughty Boston has gotten 30 in 48 hours. Just sort of peeves me. BUT, it is awesome to show people that you DO find purebred dogs in shelters and you don't have to purchase from a breeder or puppy store. It's also insanely helpful for the rescue group to draw the kind of attention that comes along with a purebred dog. Now people know to look at Group X in the future, because they had that desirable dog you were looking for in the past. My biggest thing is raising awareness that it's not all Chihuahuas, Pit Bulls, and mutts in animal control. A lot of people still don't realize that and Boomer was a perfect chance to remind everyone.
Boomer hanging out at Drake's Brewery
True to Boston form, Boomer was a naughty, rambunctious, food-shoveling, farting, humping, snoring, disaster of a dog. Needless to say, he and Douille got along great. They were Cheech & Chong, two peas in a pod, Dumb & Dumber. They spent 20 hours a day humping and chasing each other, leaving a whirlwind of annoyance in their wake. Boomer was a nice little dog, but boy he needed to get adopted ASAP. In addition to making our household a nut farm for the week we had him, Drew turned out to be allergic to him. He couldn't touch him without breaking out in hives. Fortunately, Boomer got adopted after a short week by the perfect family who had just lost their elderly Boston a few months prior. He now lives with his mom, dad, and two young human siblings who keep him busy around the clock. All it took was word of mouth and a few pictures of that silly Boston face to find Boomer the perfect match. I wish it was that easy for every homeless dog.
Douille's story very nearly had an entirely different ending. I was sent to the shelter with a list of dogs to look at for rescue. As I walked from kennel to kennel with one of the shelter staff members, I asked her if she had any super tiny Chihuahuas that needed out. It's easier to find rescue for Chis that weigh less than 4 pounds, so I always ask. She thought for a minute, said not really, then showed me this perky brown blob of a Chihuahua that was WAY over the "ultra teeny" mark: 10.4 pounds. Rescue only due to obesity. Picked up as a stray on Branham & Pearl. I must have looked at her like she was nuts because she shrugged, said he's really nice, then took me to the next kennel on the list. I did my assessments for each dog on my list and made my way to the front to say goodbye. She asked me, "What about that chubby brown chi I showed you?" and I told her he didn’t fit my criteria, but I'd ask around. After I got home and wrote up my notes, I thought of chunky chi again. I added a super short blurb to my assessments just mentioning his A#, stuck in a photo of his kennel card, and called it a day.
Love that scrunchy little nose!
The next morning I had an email from my shelter friend asking if I'd come up with anything for chubby brown chi. I realized I'd screwed up - this little dog really mattered to her and I'd missed all the signals. When you work at the shelter, it's really hard to let yourself get attached to any of the animals because it so often doesn't end well. You have to maintain a certain edge, a level of callousness, a protective shell. This particular lady is probably the toughest person they've got working there. She does her job really well and does rescue work on her own time, but she's not exactly warm and fuzzy. I asked her to show me any tiny chis and she casually pointed to the exact opposite of what I'd asked - like it was no big deal. Hello! I didn't even bother to take him out and snap a picture. Fail. All of a sudden, I couldn't get this dog out of my mind. Cue mad rampage of desperate networking for chubby brown chi! Wait, I probably need a better photo than his intake mugshot and I should probably come up with a name other than 920830 or "fat brown chi", huh? Back to the shelter I went to meet the chunk.
Looking trim, Douille!
The shelter lady was super excited that I’d come back to check out her chubby friend. She was talking about him the whole way to his kennel, telling me how he may be overweight and just another Chihuahua, but that he’d wow people with his personality. She was right. We brought him out of his kennel and he was just nothing but happiness and wiggles. He went up to every dog we walked past with a tail wag and kisses, trying to make friends with everyone. His personality certainly won me over and I knew I had to get him out. I snapped some photos, got a video, & got to work.
The handsomest sausage that ever lived
Days went by with no foster or rescue offers for the fat brown chi. I’d extended his date twice and really needed to get him out ASAP. With the help of a rescue friend and Drew’s go-ahead, I pulled him under a cat rescue and brought him home with me. He needed a name, stat. Fat brown chi wasn’t going to net him any adopters. Drew wanted to name him Sausage Cakes, but yeah…so we settled on Douille, short for Andouille sausage because he was so porky. Of course he ended up with a slew of nicknames: Dooers, Doodle, Sausage Cakes, DooDoo Brain, The Chocolate Flab, Sausage Pants, and of course THE Sausage King of San Jose. I created a Facebook page for him, took a photo of him wearing a bow-tie, and started sharing his story like crazy.
Douille out on a walk
First things first: we needed a weight loss plan. Douille weighed 10.4 pounds when he should have weighed more like 6-7. That is a monstrous percentage of his body weight. We started with daily walks. Douille couldn't make it very far at first, like to the end of the block and barely back. We slowly worked our way up to down the block and around the corner. I changed his diet to Blue's Senior Turkey Basics. Turkey is super lean and eliminating grains helps with weight control. I chose a senior formula (for a 3 year old dog) because I wanted Douille to have plenty of joint and heart support while losing weight. Such a dramatic weight loss can be tough on the body. Between the walks, a change in nutrition, and playing with our dogs, Douille began to shed weight. We noticed he had more of a neck, more energy, and breathed easier. His luxating patellae and hip mobility also improved greatly as he continued to lose weight. His "fast mode" as my shelter friend called it was actually kind of fast now! We were making big progress.
The Sausage King of San Jose
We enjoyed having Douille around the house immensely. He was just such a jolly little character and so, so, so sweet. I'd never met such a happy go lucky Chihuahua before! He'd make friends with everyone - people, dogs, cats, anyone. He absolutely loved other dogs, particularly big dogs. He'd run right up to any dog - stranger or not - and just smother them with kisses right off the bat. Stupidly adorable. He became BFF with our Hound/Lab mix, Oliver, and they spent their days romping around like goons. He also enjoyed the heck out of Boomer, another foster we had for a bit. You can see for yourself just how endearing and playful he was in the video below.
My friend at the shelter was absolutely correct: Douille had one of the most winning personalities I've come across in a dog, especially in a Chihuahua! He was dumber than a bag of rocks, but just so adorably loving. Then there's that incredibly kissable overbite, OMG. Love it! He's just a fantastic little critter. Really, truly, genuinely extra special.
Douille with his new family!
After fostering Douille for a month, we got a great adoption application from some folks in San Francisco through Jake's Wish Dog Rescue. They were kind enough to courtesy list Douille on their website and Petfinder so we could spread the word about this cheerful little chunker. The applicants drove down to San Jose on a rainy evening and met me and Douille at my store. They totally fell in love - Douille definitely wowed them with his personality, just as my shelter friend said he would! He snuggled into his new mom's neck right away when she picked him up. He fell asleep there while I helped them pick out some good food and supplies. He seemed right at home with all of them, which put my heart at ease.We placed Douille on the scale in my store before saying goodbye. He weighed 7.4 pounds - three pounds lighter than when we pulled him! That's 30% of his body weight lost in only a month's time, which is a bit faster than I would've liked it to happen, but really great. The vet said his ultimate weight goal should be 6.8 pounds, so I felt good about letting him go to his forever home at this point. He lives in San Francisco with his mom, her two roommates, and the roommates' Mastiff puppy, Chester. Remember how much Douille loves big dogs? I was so excited to send him home with Chester! They can be lazy buddies forever.
Love that overbite!
Before leaving the store, Douille picked out his very own bed. His mom put a bunch of cat beds on the floor and Douille climbed into the most expensive one, naturally. He refused to get out. In fact, they had to carry him to the car in the bed. His mom put her scarf around him and he cozied right up, settling in for the rainy car ride home. His new name is Dewey, same pronunciation as Douille, but easier to spell and no longer an ode to fatty sausage. I think it's perfect. We got an email from Dewey's mom just after Christmas. She said he's doing great so far and fitting in beautifully with the family. When I shared her email and photos with my shelter friend, Douille's #1 advocate, she said the news made her entire year.
Hugging Douille goodbye
Douille was super special and I had a hard time saying goodbye, but the hardest part of all was thinking about how close I came to not saving this little nugget. I so almost missed the boat completely and cost Douille his precious little life. Thank goodness for my shelter friend's heart and for her persistence. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have noticed Douille. I passed over him and he almost paid the ultimate price. That's the thought that made me shed a couple tears, not the goodbye. Douille's story will always be a great reminder to me of how delicate this rescue business really is, how we are the only voices for these guys, how we carry the power to save or end their lives, and how we must never get too busy or jaded that we make such costly oversights. I almost failed Douille, yet all he knows is happiness and love. That's one of so many reasons why I love dogs. Thank you for your love, Douille!
Pet obesity is no laughing matter. Being overweight can severely affect your pet's health. This goes for both dogs and cats. Chunky pets may be cute, but honestly it's not ok. Douille, for example, was suffering from breathing difficulty and mobility challenges. His joints were strained, his heart was working overtime, and he was unadoptable because of it. These are serious issues that shouldn't be taken lightly. Make sure you're feeding your pets a proper diet, following the feeding guidelines on the bag/can (they differ from food to food!), providing adequate exercise opportunity, and attending regular vet check-ups. The Association for Pet Obesity Prevention has two great illustrations that are useful for knowing how your pet's weight stacks up against medical ideals, as well as several other informative resources. Check it out here: http://www.petobesityprevention.org/pet-weight-check/
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