Doggy Adventures: RC Car Fun

Barkley is really smart. Too smart. There isn't a doggy brain puzzler toy out there that can stump him. He needs something that will keep him actively engaged for more than five minutes. So, we picked up a cheapo remote control car. Barks was kind of afraid of it, but it definitely held his interest once we spiced it up by taping his stuffing-free fox toy to it. All the other dogs joined in on the fun before long, even Flea. Check out the video to see Barkley and friends try to figure out the RC Car. I have to point out that Barkley is the only dog not barking. You'll hear us call him Broccoli in the video...this is one of his many nicknames. You'll also see why we usually leave Flea out of the mix for these types of events. It worked: all 4 dogs are now sleeping soundly, hurray! Enjoy!

If you're interested in adopting Barkley, please email jsmartinez@dekalbcountyga.gov
Here is his Petfinder page with more info: http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/25043403-Barkley_In-Foster-Basenji-Dog-Decatur-GA

Bunkin's Story

Bunkin's Shelter Photo from Petfinder

Visit 1 at the shelter...pensive

Visit 2 at the Shelter...skinny

Today is Thanksgiving and I think it's a perfect opportunity to share Bunkin's story. Bunkin was our very first rescue dog. He came from a rural kill shelter outside of Tallahassee, where he was rotting in a concrete kennel suffering from sarcoptic mange ("scabies"). My childhood dog, Bandit, had just passed away three months before we adopted Bunkin. I knew I wanted another dog, but I planned to wait a while. Drew came down to Tallahassee to visit me one weekend and we decided to stop by Petco to see the pups available for adoption. After we left, Drew asked me what I thought about "that Bunkin dog". I hadn't even noticed him. Drew continued to mention Bunkin for the next several days, even after he'd gone back to Atlanta. I knew I had to find him. This was his heart dog, his canine soul mate. I called the Petco, found out which shelter had dogs on site the previous weekend, and asked for directions to their facility. I got in the car, drove to the middle of nowhere, and entered my very first animal shelter. The facility was awful. I had no idea what to expect and had zero experience with this sort of thing, so it hit me like a ton of bricks. The front desk woman was less than caring. She sat behind the counter filing her nails as a staff member tossed a dog up onto the counter, roughly jabbed a needle into its leg to draw blood, and didn't even bother to apply pressure afterward. The blood just trickled down the dog's leg and left little droplets on the counter next to the visitor form I was filling out. I had never smelled smells or heard racket like I did when they went back to get Bunkin. He scurried out, all skin and bones, and nervously led me out the front door. We walked, sniffed, talked, and enjoyed the fresh air from a picnic table out front. I could tell Bunkin was very smart, alert, and gentle. He had a knowing soul and his big black eyes betrayed the pain and loneliness he felt. He was so quiet, just sitting there staring off into the distance appreciating the moment of peace. I visited him for a few more minutes that first day before returning him to the awful lady at the front counter. I could hardly watch as she dragged him back into the kennel area; he slammed on the brakes and tried to dig his claws into the concrete to keep her from taking him back there. I was back three days later to visit again. After my second visit, I knew I had to get him out. Drew and I couldn't go a day without talking about him on the phone. We wanted to wait until our spring break so that Drew could come to Tallahassee for a few days and we could adopt him together. Three weeks after Drew first saw him at Petco, we drove to the shelter to rescue Bunkin.

Our adoption photo

$50. Our new best friend only cost fifty bucks. There were so many things that felt so wrong about that. No adoption form, no home check, no drivers' licenses requested. Just a $50 bill and a good riddance. Those three weeks were so tough, knowing Bunks was in that awful place. Knowing what I know now, I would have taken him home the first day I visited him rather than make him wait three more weeks. We were lucky he was still alive. Thankfully, it worked out for the best. Drew and I spent all of spring break getting to know our new buddy and helping him relax into his new home. It was so different for me, not knowing a dog's past, his age, his breed, anything at all really. But it didn't matter, not even for a minute. He was the sweetest, most grateful, gentlest little guy. He slept in Drew's lap the whole car ride back to Tallahassee from the shelter. It was like he hadn't slept in a thousand years. Knowing Bunkin as I do now, he probably hadn't. We took him to the vet, scheduled his neuter, and found out he had sarcoptic mange. It's caused by mites that burrow under the skin and lay their eggs, causing terrible itchiness that a dog can scratch at all they want but never make it stop. Bunks had big scabs and patches of red skin from scratching. It's highly contagious and my heart sank thinking of all the other dogs in that shelter itching away to no avail. It was easy to treat and we saw rapid improvement in just a couple of days. Bunkin put a couple pounds on and settled in quickly, although I'd say it took about 6 months for his full personality to shine through the scared shell of a dog we'd brought home on March 14, 2008. These days, Bunkies loves to curl up in a quiet corner and nap. He loves being outside in the yard, taking in the fresh air, watching the leaves fall from the trees, and keeping watch over his home. He loves his family. He loves getting his ears cleaned. He loves chips. He loves car rides.

As Drew's very first dog and my first rescue dog, Bunkin has a special place in our hearts. He lived with me in Tallahassee and kept me company until I finished college. Then he moved to Atlanta with Drew until we got married in 2009. As I think about all the dogs spending tonight without a family, it feels like a good time to reflect on our journey with Bunks. I am so thankful that Bunkin opened my heart and my eyes to the sea of homeless pets that are in shelters across our country. I will never turn my back on rescue and I will never forget that I have Bunkin to thank for this commitment. Happy Thanksgiving!

   

Best Buds

Update, July 8 2019: Drew and I said goodbye to our Bunkin boy today after 11 wonderful years with him. Bunkin began slowing down a month or two ago, and last week we discovered he had a type of cancerous growth in his mouth called a tonsillar squamous cell carcinoma. This is a very aggressive cancer and we knew our approach would be to simply keep him comfortable for as long as we could. We just didn't know we'd only have a week. The balancing point for managing Bunkin's comfort proved too elusive: too much prednisone and his IBD went crazy, but too little and his coughing fits returned; a smidge of tramadol to help ease the pain of his sore throat, but too much and he was barely present at all. Bunkin became a ghost of the dog he was just a month ago, a week ago even. We made the decision to let him go today. Over the years Bunkin was always terrible for veterinary procedures, so we were afraid that his last moments would be stressful and full of fear. Amazingly, Bunkin had formed a seemingly knowing connection with Dr. Collins, the vet I am assigned to at my new clinic. With Dr. Collins, Bunkin didn't need a muzzle. He didn't freak out or fight our efforts. He just seemed to be at ease and somehow knew he could trust Dr. Collins and her gentle spirit. This unbelievable peace gave Drew and I enormous comfort, along with the fact that I was able to be Bunkin's technician alongside Dr. Collins in his final moments. He went smoothly and easily with Drew and I crowded alongside him. We are also tremendously grateful to Paws, Whiskers, and Wags - the crematory where one of my dear co-workers spends the other half of her week - for their heartfelt care and sensitivity handling our doggo's remains. Bunkin will return to us in an adorable little pawprint box and he will keep my Bandit company on our dresser. Drew summed it up best when he said that we shouldn't be sad, but instead focus on what an awesome life Bunkin lived beside us - our whole married life plus a year. He got to ride out all of our adventures right along with us; this dog lived in three different states, traveled across the country not once but twice, trotted along the sandy shores of the East and West coasts, kayaked, hiked, got a DNA test, acted as the ambassador to so many foster siblings, introduced his daddy to the life of dogs, had a best doggy buddy by the name of Oliver, and grew truly old surrounded by love. This is the end of the "3 Brown Dogs" era. Thank you for letting us be your people, Bunkies. We love you tons, miss you lots, and will always remember your place in our hearts as our very first "brown dog". 

Our last photos with Bunkin

#3BrownDogs

Oliver Goes on Vacation

A few weeks ago, we went to the mountains for what I'm going to call Oliver's very first vacation. Everyone thinks it's likely that Oliver belonged to someone in his previous life, which might explain why he's so darn well-behaved, but somewhere along the way he wound up leading a rough life full of nothing but neglect. So I'm going to go out on a speculative limb and say that I don't think he's ever had the luxury of going on vacation before. Maybe I'm wrong and Ollie had someone who loved him very much before he ended up at the shelter, but in any case it had at the very least been a long time since he'd had a good old fashioned getaway. So, needless to say, Mr. Olls enjoyed the dickens out of our little trip to the cabin. Sometimes even a good routine can become stressful; we're all too familiar with the "daily grind" concept. It was great to see Oliver and everyone else truly kick back and relax for a while. I think 5 days in the mountains is equivalent to 100 years worth of healing for the soul. Ollie seemed to agree.

The dogs spent most of their time snoozing in different spots and enjoying the mountain air from the safety of the screened porches. They hiked Amicalola Falls with us, barked at a group of white-tailed deer in the driveway, searched for yummy morsels dropped behind the grill, and tried toasted marshmallows straight from the fire. A good time was had by all.

 

Oliver - Our Very First Foster Dog

I have been working closely with a rescue group for over a year and we decided to coordinate our first dog adoption fair in October. I wanted all the dogs from our group to be present, but I also wanted to bring several from our county's animal control facility for the day to get them some fresh air and exposure in hopes of adoption. Oliver was among the six dogs we brought with us that day. These are the pictures we took of him at the adoption fair:

Oliver is a 5-6 year old 40 pound Lab/Hound mix who was picked up as a stray by an AC officer. He spent one year and 27 days at the county facility. It became clear the day we had him at our adoption fair that the only reason he hadn't been adopted was because he had tested positive for heartworms. Heartworms are very expensive to treat and the recovery is not easy. For a shelter dog, a HW+ status is an enormous obstacle to overcome.

None of the pound pups were adopted that day and we were faced with the sad task of returning everyone to the shelter. Drew had absolutely fallen in love with Oliver and was heartbroken to leave him behind. He was so quiet and well-behaved all day and had nothing but friendly kisses for anyone who approached him. His gentle spirit left an impression on Drew that didn't fade in the months to come as all five other dogs were eventually rescued or adopted and poor Oliver remained.

We poured our hearts into networking and spreading the word about Oliver to everyone we know, hoping to find a connection that would lead to a foster home, adoptive home, or HW treatment. Any of those options would be a step in the right direction. Our efforts to give Oliver a voice were not in vain; a local rescue group managed to find a vet and raise the funds for several of the HW+ dogs at the county shelter to be treated. Oliver was included in their selection. Things were finally looking up for this guy who had waited so long for a shot at a second chance.

While we were completely thrilled that Oliver was going to be treated, we knew there was more to be done for him. Recovery from heartworm treatment is a long and slow process that is very hard on a dog's system; Oliver needed a foster home where he could rest comfortably. Drew and I decided to put aside our fears of fostering and step up for this sweethearted boy.

We picked Oliver up from the county facility on the day he received his second Immiticide injection. Amazingly, he didn't seem to be feeling too badly. He wasn't at all sore, so we were able to give him a much needed bath. He was a perfect gentleman and seemed happy to be getting some TLC.

He had a great first weekend and gave us no trouble at all. He was in good spirits and we had an easy time keeping him calm and quiet. Drew and I couldn't believe how smoothly he fit into our household. Bunkin didn't seem to mind his presence at all and while Flea was fairly disgruntled, there was really no major grief caused by adding a third dog to our herd. Our house was quiet, we were able to relax and stick to our regular schedules, and there were no dog fights. This was nothing short of amazing.

We had picked Oliver up on a Wednesday and by Sunday evening, he finally started to feel pretty ill. Coughing, labored breathing, loss of appetite, and complete exhaustion set in. The poor guy was having a hard time, but he was so good about resting quietly and staying calm. We used the elevator to take him downstairs for brief potty breaks so he didn't have to exert himself on the stairs. Drew made him chicken and rice and hand fed it to him so that he would have something in his stomach. He finished all of his medications and began to feel better by the second weekend in our home.

While we were out of town for Christmas, Ollie stayed with a rescue friend of ours who also has a soft spot for him. He did wonderfully with her and had no trouble fitting in with her two larger dogs. By the time we came back, it had already been 3 weeks since his treatment. Halfway to healthy! Once Ollie reaches the 4 week mark, we can start slowly rebuilding his strength. I know he is so desperately looking forward to being able to go for a real walk and play with little buddies, Bunkin and Flea.

I cannot adequately convey exactly how good Ollie is. I want to say Oliver will make a wonderful family dog someday, but the truth is he's already done just that. He's house trained, he's crate trained, he's friendly with other dogs of all sizes, he loves people, and I'm sure he would be excellent with children. He loves lounging in his dog bed and getting brushed. We've only heard him bark twice. He is perfectly content to either sleep silently in his crate all night or in his dog bed on the floor next to our bed. He isn't destructive in the least; I feel more comfortable leaving him loose in the house alone than my own dogs. He would love a house with a yard, I'm sure, but he hasn't had the slightest issue adjusting to apartment living. Oliver is just so laid-back and easygoing. He wants nothing more than to please his people and to be loved in return.

As I sit here typing this, Oliver is stretched out on the bed behind me happy as a clam. Drew and I thought it would be difficult to keep our house quiet enough to serve as a hospital for Ollie's recovery, but the truth is he's made it easy for us. Canceling holiday parties and adjusting our morning routines have been such small prices to pay for being able to play a role in this sweet boy's journey. Once he is officially rid of his heartworms, Oliver will be available for adoption. While we know it will be painful to let him go, it will be wonderful to see him find a great forever home. Stay tuned for the second half of Ollie's story...

Accidental Rescues (1 of 3) - Zeke

Before I get too far into this, I've got to tell the stories of Zeke, Girl, and Harley. While these guys may not have been true fosters, they have a place in this story nonetheless.

Zeke was the first. It was about two weeks before Thanksgiving break during my final fall semester at Florida State that I noticed a male black pit mix pup hanging out in my next door neighbor's fenced yard. He was a good looking pup and seemed to be quite young and playful. I let Bunkin out into my yard and the two were immediately interested in each other. They spent an hour or so sniffing through the chain link and racing each other up and down the fence line. They really seemed to get along well, so I let them continue to play through the fence like this for the next couple of days.

That Wednesday afternoon, I came home from class to find the little neighbor pup in my backyard. It looked as though he had jumped the fence and come over to wait for his playmate. Of course, I thought this was adorable but I knocked on the neighbor's door to let her know what had happened. She said she had noticed how the dogs had been playing through the fence and that she wouldn't mind  if her dog spent some time in my yard playing with Bunkin. I asked if he had a name and she said he didn't and that the dog actually belonged to her boyfriend (a rather shady character who came around every now and then). This raised a few flags in my mind, but for the time being I was content to let the dogs play together freely.

By Friday evening, my neighbor's boyfriend's car was parked in her driveway. He was a very loud man who seemed to bring trouble with him. Sunday morning came and I noticed the poor pup had been chained to the front porch. He was lying on the concrete stoop looking pretty sad. I saw Vivienne (neighbor lady) later that day and asked her why he was chained. She told me that her boyfriend didn't want him running loose in the yard anymore because he had gotten into the turkey grease under the giant smoker in their backyard. She said I could still take him over to my yard and let him play with Bunkin, so I did. He reeked of smoked turkey and was basically a walking oil slick. Although I hated it, I made sure to put the pup back on the chain after he'd finished playing with Bunkin so that Vivienne wouldn't revoke his playtime privileges. Other than the turkey stench, he seemed to be in good health and I didn't want to push the envelope.

Patience proved to be a virtue. After Vivienne's boyfriend had left, she knocked on my door. In one hand was a bag of dog kibble and in the other was the pup on a leash. Vivienne told me that her boyfriend had left and that she didn't have time to care for the dog. I gladly took him in, although I realized there was most likely more to the story.

First things first: the dog got a bath and a name. Vivienne always got really dressed up for church every Sunday, so I decided to give the dog an over the top Bible name. Ezekiel was the first name that came to my mind and from there I shortened it to Zeke. Zeke was still covered in turkey grease, so I enlisted the help of a couple of friends and together we cleaned him as best as we could.

Even though Bunkin and I loved having Zeke around, it was time to figure out a plan. I knew I couldn't keep him and I knew I couldn't take him home to my parents' house over Thanksgiving break, so I began looking for a suitable home for him. I was surprised by how quickly Zeke's luck seemed to have changed for the better. I found a girl whose family lived on a horse farm and were looking for another dog. They were animal lovers through and through; the girl's sister was a veterinarian to boot. Zeke and I met her on campus and we took a walk around Doak Campbell Stadium. She was as great a match for Zeke as he was for her.

Zeke was picked up and taken to his forever home the next afternoon and not a minute too soon. Vivienne came by saying that she wanted to take him back. She told me that her boyfriend was upset that she had given him up for free and that he was worth more than that. She said he had plans for the dog and that he wasn't hers to give away. I explained to her that it was too late; I'd already found a home for Zeke and I couldn't get him back. After a bit of back and forth, Vivienne finally gave up and I never heard another thing about it. At the very least, I knew Zeke deserved more than life at the end of a chain, but I am now certain that he was spared from a far worse fate than I had initially imagined.

Three years later, he is spoiled rotten and loving life with his forever family:

The Great Foster Adventure

My husband, Drew, and I have finally succumbed to our long-suppressed desire to become dog fosters. I have decided that a blog might effectively serve as both an outlet for and a chronicle of this journey. This is my first blog, so please bear with me.

We've always said to each other that we could never be fosters. There have always been a few different reasons for this stance, but the most glaring issues are:

1) Our dogs, Bunkin and Flea, would never tolerate another dog in the house; and
2) We'd become too attached to the foster dog and wouldn't be able to adopt out him/her.

Adding those points in with the idea of caring for three dogs, breaking our well-defined daily routine, and surely disrupting the hard-earned household peace we have finally achieved seems to point clearly to the fact that we'd be crazy to foster.

Well, then color us crazy...