Phinneas: Happiness in the Now

The Five Foundlings (Phinneas far right)

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."

Ziggy: A Designer Dog in Need of Rescue

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!

Katie Holmes & Suri Cruise: No Longer On Their Own

Just sayin'...

It's not every day you see a mama with only one puppy come into animal control. Y'all know we just temp fostered the houndy mama and her litter of 10, so when we saw this pitiful pair we just couldn't resist. Their intake photo interested me. You can see the independence and determination in both of them. Mama is alert and sitting up straight. Puppy is sitting tall next to mama, not hiding underneath or behind her. They both just kind of seem to be saying, "Yep, here we are. We made it this far, just the two of us. What's next?". When I got to the shelter and saw them in person, I knew I wasn't leaving without them. I took mama out without her puppy to see how she acted around people and other dogs. She was totally cool. When I walked back to her kennel, puppy was just sitting there just like she is in the intake picture. She wasn't fazed in the slightest. Ok then, off we go!

Adorable

The rescue group taking them is See Spot Rescued (SSR) in New Jersey. SSR likes their dogs to have famous first and last names, so Drew came up with Katie Holmes and Suri Cruise. We think it suits them well. Their shelter names were Becky (pup) and Darlene (mom). I thought those were really cute too, especially Becky for the puppy. Unfortunately, I didn't watch Roseanne growing up and so we didn't realize they actually already had celebrity names. Plus Drew is way too proud of himself for thinking up Katie and Suri given his profound lack of celebrity knowledge. So, Katie and Suri it is!

Katie's poor skin

Suri post-bath and sans fleas

Katie and Suri are both at good weights and seem to be in general good health. They were picked up as strays by an animal control officer a few days before I brought them home. Suri was completely infested with fleas. We used the shower handheld and bathed her with Dawn dish soap. They use that stuff on wildlife because it is so gentle and good at de-gunking. We washed her for about 15 minutes and the fleas just poured off of her the entire time. I have never seen so many fleas on one dog before, let alone a three pound dog like Suri. Poor thing. It was really bad. I can't believe she was still so strong with all those awful things leeching off of her. It makes me wonder if mama had one or two other pups that were just as infested and didn't make it. Who knows. I just know Suri felt so much better once we got rid of all those fleas. She's doing really well and only has some scabs from where the worst of the fleas were living on her. Mama Katie didn't have any on her, but she'd been chewed up by them really badly. Her skin is a WRECK. It's just horrible. At the shelter, I noticed she had pretty serious hair loss going on, but I didn't see the full extent of it until we got her home. Her poor skin is just torn up. Dogs can have severe allergic reactions to a single flea bite. When they scratch and chew and dig at their own skin it just makes

everything that much worse. She was so terribly inflamed, raw, and itchy. We bathe her with Xymox shampoo and conditioner. Katie gets biotin, therapeutic dosages of fish oil, and pet kelp to help restore her skin and coat. We also rub her down with an herbal gel to give her some instant topical relief from the itching. The gel is called Scratch Attack Anti-Itch and has yerba-mate, boswellia, arnica, chamomile, witch hazel, aloe vera, rosemary oil, peppermint oil, and tea tree oil. All of these ingredients are good natural remedies that should help Katie feel much better. Her skin has already improved. It's no longer red and inflamed, although she still has a long way to go. It will probably never look perfect, but all that's important is that we get her feeling more comfortable.

Check out those double dewclaws! Little freaks!

We think Suri is probably about six weeks old. Mama is a Dachshund mix who is probably about 25 pounds and roughly 2 years old. Suri looks nothing like mama. They both have super funky, fairly unusual double rear dewclaws. If it wasn't for that, I'd almost wonder if Suri was mama's pup. She's still nursing, but we're trying to help mama wean her because she has teeth and is rather rotund. Suri's really a little boss...she eats everything in sight (even if she has to shove mama out of the way) and she loves to chase the Chihuahuas. Bunkin, Flea, Oliver, and Pickles are pretty scared of her. It's hilarious. We spend a good deal of time playing in the backyard so she gets plenty of fresh air and exercise. Suri is running faster and steadier every day. Yesterday she sailed over a log at the end of the driveway mid-stride and kept right on running without stumbling! She even

conquered the very bottom step of the outside stairs and the slightly raised threshhold of the backdoor. Mama Katie is super spunky and likes to play pretty rough with little Suri. She'll shove her around, roll her over, pin her down, chomp on her ears, and run zoomies around her until she starts to cry uncle. Then she'll back off and Suri will resume chasing after Flea and Pickles. Yesterday she sent Oliver bounding away in terror and Bunkin decided he'd be safest hiding behind my legs. What a goof troop!

It seems like Mama Katie was a house dog at some point. She's completely house-trained and is even trying to teach Suri where to go potty. When we're out in the yard, Katie grabs Suri by the ear/leg/arm and drags her into the grass where she fusses at her until Suri goes potty. It's like she's saying, "Look here, this is where we go and we're not going back inside until you do!". It's super funny. Katie is VERY people friendly. She loves to crawl up into your lap and give kisses, even if she's just met you. She made herself right at home from day one, cuddling with us during tv time, leaning against our feet when we're standing in the kitchen, and squeezing in alongside me when I sit in the recliner to study. She's super tolerant of all the other dogs, too. Normally mamas with young pups are slow to warm and a bit protective, but Drew is a champ and seamlessly integrated Katie and Suri in with the rest of our pack in a day's time. In short, she's a really well-behaved girl. It makes you wonder what happened for her to wind up in this situation. My guess, for what little it's worth, is that mama may have be owned and loved but was never fixed, escaped her yard/house, got knocked up, birthed her pup as a stray, and wound up in animal control. No doubt she's a flea bitten mess, but she seems to be in good shape other than that and doesn't seem to have any emotional scars. It's really sad, no matter what their story may be. The great news is they're both safe and loved, mama will never have to go through this again, and Suri will never have any babies of her own. The hard part of their journey is over for good.

We will probably have Katie and Suri for three weeks or so. Suri has to gain a couple pounds before she can be spayed and Katie's got to be fixed once her milk dries up. Hopefully I can get Katie's skin in better shape during that time before they head to New Jersey. I really have nothing but awesome things to say about these two girls. They're both fantastic little dogs and I know they will make somebody very happy. We're certainly enjoying having them around! Huge thanks to See Spot Rescued for committing to take them and also to Friends of DeKalb Animals for transporting them to NJ. Stay tuned for more cuteness! I'll be posting occasional updates with lots of pictures over the next few weeks.