Rory's Story

After haircut!

Before haircut...

Rewind to February 2019. It'd been almost a year and a half since Phinneas died and we had about zero interest in fostering since then. I'd fully immersed myself in my new job as a veterinary assistant and had nothing in the way of extra energy outside of work. Drew's travel took a serious uptick and fostering honestly didn't even register as a blip on our radar. Then came Rory.

Rory's story began as a puppy named Ross, when Ruff Dog Rescue found him and his sister abandoned in a metro Atlanta park. Rory got adopted from Ruff Dog at about six months old. His mom loved him dearly and Rory never left her side. Rory received his regular veterinary care from the hospital I worked at, so all my co-workers knew him well. I met Rory in November 2018 under very sad circumstances: his mom had a brain aneurysm and Rory came in to our hospital for emergency boarding while she had surgery. Rory's weekend stay quickly turned into a long-term, indefinite situation; his mom's recovery was not going as planned. After living in our hospital kennel for two weeks, we were able to contact Ruff Dog Rescue and secure a temporary foster home for Rory. He deserved a comfortable home environment for the holidays while waiting for his mom to recover. Not all rescues would have come to Rory's aid like this just because he'd fallen on hard times; there isn't always a space in foster care available or enough resources at hand. Ruff Dog pulled together and made it happen for him - thank you, RDR.

 

Rory sporting a blue mohawk at an event

Those butt pads though...

Unfortunately, Rory's mom's health took a turn for the worse. Three months after surgery, she still required a ventilator and had only just begun to sit up in her bed. She transferred to an acute care facility and Rory was not allowed to visit. His first foster mom needed a reprieve, so Drew and I tagged in to take Rory for a while. As Rory stayed with us in a state of limbo, we all dedicated ourselves to working on his weight problem. At his heaviest, Rory tipped the scales at a morbidly obese 102 pounds. Proper nutrition and adequate exercise made all the difference. While in boarding, Rory lost the first significant chunk of weight just from having structure: this is what you get to eat, when you get to eat it, and how much of it you get to eat, the end. No more people food, no free grazing, and no Big Gulp sized food cup. His first foster mom, Kristen, brought his weight down from the upper eighties to 76 pounds in the three months she had him. Three more months with us brought him all the way down to a svelte 54 pounds, his goal weight. You read that right: 102 to 54 in six months' time. That's 50% of his body weight - HALF OF RORY - chiseled away. Weight loss like this has to be done carefully, slowly, and in a calculated manner in order to be achieved safely. It's a lot of shock on the body to lose that much, and losing too much too quickly can be dangerous for the heart.

Rory's extreme makeover!

Keeping Rory on a low calorie food and constantly adjusting his food calculations as he continued to lose proved key. It's not like we ran marathons or anything - this is simply the difference appropriate feeding makes. I say all of this without judgment; we live in the South where food equals love in many people's minds. We call them "love feeders". All the veterinary consultation in the world sometimes isn't enough to make folks understand that dogs will almost always try to convince us they're starving - they're not. We had clients come in concerned that their obese family lab wasn't finishing his meals. My boss would tell them that he's "pushing away from the table" (i.e., he's full!) and that's him telling you he's had enough. No, you don't need to add gravy to entice him to finish his kibble. Really, he's good. There truly are only two ways an animal gets fat, excepting medical conditions: too much food and too little exercise. It's a straightforward concept, yet companion animal obesity is a pervasive problem we continue to see. Rory wrote the book and earned lovingly rude nicknames from us such as "house hippo" or "the great white whale" or "roropotamus". We actually had to pen him out of the dining room while we ate dinner to keep him from begging at the table!

I remember the first time Rory solicited a game of fetch. He'd never done this before; I threw the rope and he brought it back, giddy to repeat the process. I realized this meant he finally felt physically GOOD. That was a really rewarding moment as a foster mom. From this point on, there was no stopping him. Rory had arrived - and what he'd lost in body weight, BOY, did he make up for in personality! This boy trucked over everything in his path like the proverbial bull in the china shop. He found his voice, too. I'm still not sure what his breed mix is, but I have to think there may be some husky in there with the way he talks! [For the record, I think he is a pit / wheaten mix]. Rory has something to say about everything that goes on during the day. He is a talker, a lover, a people person, a real mush. During the time he spent with us, Rory became my shadow; he followed me around like a fluffy white cloud. Every time I'd have friends over - particularly girls - Rory plopped himself down right in front of them and shamelessly begged for love. He knows no such thing as personal space or too much affection, but now he knows structure and a healthy lifestyle!

After it became clear that Rory's mom was not going to recover to the extent that she'd be able to take him back, we began to look for a new forever home for our scruffy white ward. Rory came to us with zero leash manners, zero dog social skills, and zero understanding of how to act in group settings. Despite our hard work, he just did not show well at adoption events. People's fascination with his unique looks and the emotional pull of his sad story quickly evaporated into horror if another dog approached. Rory became possessive of his admirers, felt socially pressured, and exploded into high-pitched shrieks and off-putting snarls. Instantly, the endearingly quirky Heinz 57 who looked a mutant Jack Russell terrier morphed into a pit-mix scruff dragon who could convince anyone that he'd in fact eaten a whole family of Jackies. Sigh. All the creative marketing in the world, all the volunteer hours spent at events, and all the meet and greets I could muster would not matter an ounce if it wasn't the right fit for Rory...and then my sister spoke up.

 Ashley and Shawn met Rory a handful of times over the spring and summer, both with and without their three dogs: Bubba, Bellatrix LeStrange, and Sirius Black. They both were clearly taken with Rory's goofiness and affectionate nature, but I had no idea how serious they were about him until I'd just about given up hope. They'd fallen hard - and did I mention Rory didn't mind their dogs? Quite the opposite: he actually PLAYED with their dogs and for some reason blended right in like the fourth member of a zany jazz quartet. It hit me: my sister and her pack are exactly Rory's brand of crazy. After a whole lot of real talk and some logistical planning, Drew and I jumped into the car and hand delivered Rory to his new home in Florida. It was a seamless transition and it was right under our noses the whole time. Sometimes when it works, it just works. And that's the conclusion of this former white whale's tale. Happy forever, Rory! You deserve this so much!

Epilogue: We'd never done a foster case quite like this before with regard to the surrounding human element. Rory's former mom transferred to an assisted living facility up north near her family.  I don't want anything I've written here to come across as insensitive toward her circumstances or her love for Rory. Rory's - and his mom's - situation absolutely broke my heart. I can't imagine her sadness, her worry, her fears for him. I grappled with the implications of all of this for some time, hating that life dealt her such a terrible hand. All I can hope is that she knows Rory is happy, healthy, and loved forever.

Double Update: Rory's mom passed away in May; we didn't know until September, after he'd been adopted. I didn't know what to make of this at first, but I quickly chalked it up to Rory's serendipitous fate. Heartbreakingly sad as it may be, Rory's story worked out in the end. I'm so glad we worked proactively to give this guy a chance at a new future. Dogspeed to his former mama, and dogspeed to Rory and his future!

Another Chapter of the Great Rescue Journey...

I'm writing again! This means two things: 1) I've got stuff to share with you and 2) I've got time to do it! Of course, making time for one thing means cutting back on something else, or in this case all the things. This post is equal parts catharsis and chronology, so bear with me while I bring you up to speed...it's going to be a lengthy one. And before I begin, thanks for listening...it means a lot!

When we moved to California, I had to start from scratch and find a way to insert myself into the rescue scene. As I described in my reflection post about 2014 rescue, I dove head first into the thick of things, gained a lot of experience, and made a bunch of amazing friends along the way. 2015 was messy. As with any field that involves passionate people striving to do big things in the name of change for a common cause, drama and egomania all too often play a nasty role in rescue. The group I poured my soul into during 2014 tore apart at the seams, causing an enormous divide within the rescue community in its wake. Trusted leaders made selfish decisions in furtherance of personal legacies and recognition, spinning webs of lies and destroying reputations along the way without regard for damage done to the cause. I spent most of 2015 trying to recover from the personal hurt and attempts to flay my integrity; I found that fighting the good fight by marching forward with the ever-present need for rescue work was the best way to heal my wounds and affirm my value. Nose to the grindstone, as they say. Rescue never sleeps, never stops, never takes a breath. I showed people who I am and what I care about, which turned out to be a very effective way to gain trust and get good work done. Apparently this approach isn't used as much as it should be. Sincerity is always a breath of fresh air; it's too bad we only ever seem to catch fleeting gasps of it here and there.

Some of my favorites from Unleashed...

Drew and I fostered for a few other groups during the great gap period of 2015 and we had some awesome dogs come through our home, but time and time again I found myself discontent with the group dynamics for one reason or another. I also found it difficult to simply be a foot soldier when I was so used to leading and carrying a bigger role. I struggled to find my place post St. Francis and bounced around quite a bit as a "free agent". Fortunately, I had an awesome little job which I absolutely loved at Unleashed (a boutique concept store owned by Petco) as their Dog & Cat Department Manager. I worked here happily for a bit over two years and enjoyed the meshing of animal welfare between my job and my rescue efforts. Pet nutrition became my major jam and orchestrating our store's relationships with rescue groups for adoption events and fundraising suited my skillset and brought me great joy. Our little store found its way to #1 in the District (and I think the Region) for adoptions during my stint. I even got to organize the Adoption Alley participants at San Jose's annual Christmas in the Park 2015! I took serious pride in my work at Unleashed and my two bosses' support and friendships helped me through the transitional period between what I call St. Francis Round 1 and St. Francis Round 2.

Maddie's Fund foster awareness campaign interview

In March 2015 after spending some time doing courtesy evaluations for various rescue folks, I was asked to join the San Jose Animal Advocates team - four of us (at the time, but later we became six) who walked, slept, ate, breathed, talked, and dreamed rescue triage around the clock. SJAA acts as a liaison between the rescue community and the San Jose shelter, inserting itself into the flurry of deadlines and dates in an attempt to ease the burden on both sides by doing the legwork and heavy lifting of networking. The "needs rescue list" pinged my phone every night around 3-4AM, indicating the latest round of dates and notes on those who needed a little extra help in order to make it out of the shelter. We used our relationships with local groups and rescuers all around the Bay Area to help give these guys voices; we knew which folks to "pitch" which animals to and how to focus our efforts in a perpetual avalanche of deadlines. Review the list, choose candidates, go perform evaluations, take photos and videos for networking, write creative bios for networking, fight the clock, ask for deadline extensions if needed, ask for medical updates, work social media, cash in favors, secure funding when needed, cross your fingers, become heavily emotionally invested, and then either succeed or fail. Save a life or mourn a life. Either way, get over it quickly because the caseload is never just one dog or cat - it's 5, 10, 15, or more at a time. And that clock is always ticking in three day increments. I got to the point where I'd wake up in the middle of the night just before the next NRL came in so I could catch up on messages in order to get a head start on the next day. No alarm clock needed, just the constant need to check my phone and do work that could never wait dragging me out of my slumber each night. I easily put in 40 volunteer hours per week for SJAA in addition to my 40 hour per week job. SJAA is like an around the clock emergency that never allows for breaks, comfort, or a lasting sense of accomplishment. On top of that, we constantly had to sort out difficulties between team members and often between ourselves and the shelter team. Dynamics flew from both sides every day and it wasn't always clear that we were on the same side. It became sort of a "too many cooks in the kitchen" situation. Sure, there was one week in which we secured rescue for twelve dogs who weren't supposed to make it out, but there was also the week immediately preceding where we lost four into whom we'd poured immeasurable effort. I'll never forget the day I assessed 17 dogs in three hours, only to spend three more hours typing up my formal evaluations once I got home. In any case, even for someone as capable of compartmentalizing and embracing a clinical approach to heavily charged tasks as I am, I couldn't sustain the emotional roller coaster of SJAA. I found it hurting my marriage, as I became more married to my inboxes than my husband, more likely to be late to dinner because my evaluations at the shelter ran long, more likely to fall asleep on the couch with my phone in my hand during a movie, more likely to lose myself in the endless flurry of rescue triage and lives in limbo. After 9 months of SJAA trenchwork, I resigned. I quit for myself, for my husband, and for the animals. I had to make sure I didn't burn out completely so that I could continue saving lives longterm. It was an amazing ride, but it was time to rest and switch gears. Turns out I didn't have much time to rest...

St. Francis APS 5k "Run for Rescue" 2016

I'd maintained a working relationship with the President of St. Francis after the "break up" and during my time with SJAA. I'd reached out to her a few times to take in animals we were networking. She lives in Arizona, so the deal was always that I'd manage the dog and its foster home if St. Francis sponsored it. I was amazed by her willingness to work with me after all of the mud-slinging done during the split, but we put our cards on the table and shared our healing processes. I'd never had anything but pleasant dealings with her and she'd never shown me anything but graciousness. When she asked if I'd assume rescue operations for St. Francis and help her rebuild, I needed time to think. It took me a while to process this development and to really consider whether it was something I wanted to do. After SJAA, I felt I needed to run a rescue like I needed a hole in my head - those of you who know me have heard me say this time and time again! And oh my god, I'd have to do cat rescue, too! Hah. But I also really valued the concept of helping restore a community pillar like this group and seeing something good triumph over all the garbage tossed our way. I accepted her offer and began recruiting fosters and rebuilding our animal inventory. I made it my mission to do things differently - I had to in order to show the animal welfare community that St. Francis wasn't the monster under the bed that they'd heard about from a few power hungry egomaniacs who'd lost their way and attempted to burn the barn on their way out. I had to regain everyone's trust on behalf of this organization; I had to make St. Francis rise from the ashes. There's only one way for one girl to do that: get. to. work.

Most of our trusty crew!

Tee up St. Francis Round 2! I spent eight months championing this 44 year old organization's legacy, its present approach, and its future mission. I believed in what I was doing; I believed in this little mini crusade that became my pet project. I was so done with the default desperate ways of rescue; I wanted something more sustainable and more stable that would cause less grief for everyone involved. Working with my friends proved to be the most powerful approach I could've ever cooked up. One by one, the very best of the old St. Francis crew - most of whom are my personal friends - returned to the group wanting to help. It turns out that helping friends make a difference in something you all share passion and respect for is a very powerful thing. And with every animal we helped, with every new or old volunteer we recruited, with every adoption event or fundraiser or volunteer get together we held, we felt that sense of community achievement that so many rescues fail to foster. We made one hell of a team and we saw St. Francis grow in ways it never had before due to the strong ties and great integrity across our volunteer network, our little St. Francis family. We won. We all banded together and enabled St. Francis to shrug off the cloud of disrespect and misuse left behind from 2015 and reclaim its place as a cherished pillar of animal welfare in our community. We all got to glean a great sense of vindication and achievement for ourselves, as well. This felt amazing. Not only did this "project" help me heal, but it helped me build even stronger friendships and hopefully make some lasting impressions for change in the way volunteers are treated across the board. Don't get me wrong, our animal inventory and "numbers" were impressive, but that's only one moving part of the machine. The people - they're the key. When people want to help, it's our job to help them figure out how to help. Folks could do anything with their time, so if they want to give it to you, to your cause, take their hand and graciously show them how to do so. It's not rocket science; treat people with respect and foster constructive contribution. Take the time to high five or publicly recognize or raise a glass when someone does something good. We all need that pat on the back! Rescue isn't about us, but we can't do it if we lose ourselves along the way. Find that balance and help others see it - don't keep it a secret. I am thankful to Caron and humbled by the opportunity to further St. Francis APS; to say it's been a remarkable journey is an understatement. I owe extensive thanks to Kim for her undying support and eagerness to learn all things rescue on such a quick timeline. I am eternally grateful to my friends and rescue peers for the support and camaraderie they've given me throughout this crazy endeavor. I believe St. Francis will always be better for it, because of all of you and the love you brought back to it.

My birthday rolled around and I got an unexpected gift in the mail: an acceptance letter to the Foothill College Veterinary Technology program. Finally. Except I felt nothing upon opening the envelope; I wasn't excited anymore. I'd found so much purpose in the St. Francis project and gained so much more experience than I'd ever imagined; I wasn't keen on giving it all up for something that would throw me back into a state of grueling challenge. Timing is a funny thing; I still very much want to build a career as a vet tech, but not right now. I worked toward acceptance for almost three years and it was weird to say no when the opportunity finally presented. I was happy...I'd found my place. Finally. I signed my name to the line declining my spot in the program and stuck the form in the mail. With great discussion and realization that our West Coast adventure had just come to a transition point, we decided to move back to Atlanta. Just like that, my focus changed. California hadn't kicked my butt after all - it just threw me curve ball after curve ball until my carefully laid plans became an almost unrecognizable tapestry of colorful experiences. I got a new tattoo to symbolize this and to parallel the one I got upon leaving Atlanta. Drew took a new job and I left mine to focus on rescue full time and, incidentally, I've started a small pet sitting business along the way (Wet Noses ATL). 

Count the brown dogs!

So, that's what I've been up to since 2014. The decision to leave St. Francis in the form of a gradual hand-off was difficult, but I managed things long distance for about a month and then found myself ready to let go. I learned so incredibly much during the almost three years we spent in California. The good, the bad, the ugly, the awesome, the inspirational, the humbling, and the challenging. These things make us who we are...I wouldn't change any of it, not even the lessons your own mother hopes you'll never have to learn. I will never stop being a pain in the ass! Never stop questioning the status quo, pondering change, stretching that comfort zone, building new bridges and carefully crossing old creaky ones without looking back, pressing for success, and advocating for what you believe in. Never. Stop. Being. Genuine. I'm still struggling to find my place here in Atlanta rescue again; things are different since we left and I'm having a hard time not running my own circus so to speak, BUT I'm proud to say I've been here before and patience will yield whatever is next. In the meantime, we foster here and there. You know the drill! The time has come for our next adventure...

P.S.: To those of you at the San Jose shelter, at SJAA, and of course to everyone who played a part in St. Francis Round 2, thank you from the depths of my crazy dog lady soul. Much love!

P.P.S.: This one's for all my St. Francis Round 2 critters: Dogs Chowder, Zoe, Holly, Mimi, Pepper, Prince, Annie, Perry, Sabrina, Bonsai, Snoopy, Big Ben, Rango, Dozer, Buttercup, Alfie, Bumble Bee, Dottie, Skipper, Chippy, Charlie Brown, Rascal, Star, Bailey, Shelby, and Zed and cats Arrow, Harper, Sequoia, Brie, KitKat, Skittles, Candy, Gumdrop, Taffy, Charlie, Raven, Rain, River, Daisy, Magnolia, Cosmos, Dora, Diego, Jesse, Jason, Jill, Friday, Professor Pudding, Ivy, Big Boo, Little Boo, Poppy, Monkey, Tiger, Bear, Bunny, Dizzy, Duke, Miles, Nina, Orangie Orange, Gris Gris, Oscar, Simba, Roo, Stevie, Stewie, Skip, Scout, Tommy, and Oreo. I can't name all my SJAA animals, but you're all in my heart forever.

Peppercorn's Plight: A Difficult Rescue Journey Comes to a Difficult End

Pepper, just a week before the end.

This is one of those posts that requires a large glass of wine next to the computer as I type. It's not a happy post, but even the saddest situations often have positive takeaways. If you recall, we last left off with Peppercorn adjusting to being the only dog in his new (third) foster home and doing well with a bit more space. Please, if you've got a few minutes to spare, have a refresh of his full story: http://ohfortheloveofdogs.blogspot.com/2015/04/peppercorns-plight-overcoming.html

Our last moments with Pepper

By way of Peppercorn, I came to know my wonderful rescue friend, Dawn Piazza. Dawn and 

I were both drawn to Pepper while he was at the shelter and we both committed to finding him rescue. Dawn is the one who found Jenna, Pepper's first foster, who made his jailbreak possible. Little Taco, the grey-ish Chi playing with Pepper in one of his shelter videos, is one of Dawn's own dogs she uses to test shelter dogs and help gauge their social skills. Dawn was right there with me on day one of Pepper's journey and we've since saved more dogs together than I can count, both independently and as part of the San Jose Animal Advocates team. Today, Dawn was right there with me on the final day of Peppercorn's journey. Today, together, we let him go.

Enjoying that cheeseburger

Over the past month or so, Pepper's foster dad (Henry) noticed his lymph nodes seemed enlarged. Over the next few weeks, he noticed Pepper seemed to be generally uncomfortable and extremely tired. He lost interest in walks, food, and water. His physical appearance changed; Pepper looked both oddly bloated and emaciated at the same time. He had no muscle tone left, just a bag of creaky bones. The vet cultured Pepper's lymph nodes and discovered that he had terminal Stage IV Lymphoma. Last Thursday, the vet informed us that Peppercorn had 10-30 days left. Just four days later, Henry called me to say he felt Pepper's comfort level had further declined and that we should go ahead and make the difficult decision to let him go. This evening, one week after we received Pepper's diagnosis, I made that painful one-way trip to the vet. After Henry gently kissed his head and said his goodbyes, I drove Pepper to Burger King for a treat. He enjoyed a bacon cheeseburger in the front seat of the car before we went inside for our appointment.

He went peacefully. In fact, Dawn and I think he passed on his own before the cocktail kicked in. His poor little body was so tired, so worn out, and so ready. I honestly believe that today was his day to go. Dawn and I stood by his side the entire time, stroking his back and gently scratching his formerly tattered ears (they healed in time!). In many ways, seeing such a weary creature finally let go and just slip gently out of our world came as a relief. Cancer is a terrible, exhausting, all-consuming monster. I am glad, in a poignantly bittersweet sense, that it took him so quickly.

Peppercorn spent ten months and eight days in foster care, during which time he bounced from Jenna's home to mine and finally to Henry's. To call Pepper a village effort would be an understatement. I remained his foster coordinator the whole time and got to see, unfortunately, that Pepper seemed determined to remain on the wrong side of the "unadoptable" cusp. But we are RESCUE. It doesn't matter. What matters is that Peppercorn had almost a whole year of freedom and love. Although we can't have every case be a "Peppercorn", it is so tremendously important that we take one on every now and then in order to grow in our efforts, to check our motives, to make a difference, and to save a life. So when you wonder why Dawn and I are smiling in the photo with Pepper on his last day of life, it is because he brought us together and together we will save many more lives in his memory.

Thank you to everyone who played a part in Pepper's journey. Jenna & Alyssa M., Dawn, SJAA, Alyssa S., Tina, Heidi & Jake's Wish, Drew, and most of all, thank you to Henry for loving him for seven months without a single hint of impatience or complaint. You may never read this, but I hope you know that you meant the entire world to this little dog and I don't know what we would have done without your commitment.

Pepper & Henry

Pepper: thank you for bringing Dawn into my life. Thank you for reminding me that I can't fix every broken dog. Thank you for keeping me humble. Thank you for the opportunity to grow even more in what I do. Thank you for trusting me and for allowing me to be part of your journey. Now rest, and know you were loved, Peppy. This hard life is behind you.

Pupdate: Shiva!

Thought I'd give a quick pupdate on Shiva, now named Ayla. She's doing great with her foster mom, who says Ayla makes a wonderful companion. They enjoy the outdoors together and Ayla loves hiking just as much as her mom does. They spend a lot of time outdoors adventuring together on trails and taking in the fresh air and scenic views. Ayla also enjoys going to the local dog park and playing with dogs big and small. I'm so glad to hear that all of our hard work socializing her with our pack paid off! It seems our diligence took a firm hold and that she's really well-behaved. Her mom says she cracks up watching her toss toys in the air for herself and play soccer with tennis balls. She still favors her leg on and off again, but the vet says it will improve with more time. Ayla's mom also reports that she's learning to not chase the cats and is attending obedience school. Pretty pawsome if you ask me! I'm thrilled that she's living the good life and is well-matched to her mommy. Thanks, Tammy, for the photos and pupdate. Paws up for Ayla!

Happy Tail: Cheddar Cheese Man!

Farewell photo

Woohoo, Cheddar found his forever home today! He was one of several JW pups adopted out at the We Dog Care First Birthday Bash this afternoon. I'll be sure to make a post on that soon so everyone can see how awesome WDC is, but for now, we'll focus on Cheddar. I'm thrilled for him to be in a household that's active and playful. Our home is quiet again, this time for a while as we're taking a break for a month due to travel plans. We'll miss Cheddar, but it's awesome knowing he won't be bored anymore and it's nice for our dogs to get some peace and quiet. They really put up with a lot from the crazy red-tailed firefox!

Cheddar & his new family!

Cheese Man hit the jackpot with his new folks. You see, Cheddar is all smiles and wags at home, but as soon as he gets outside of his comfort zone he retreats into a nervous shell. Meeting his adopters at WDC was very scary for him, but they fell head over heels despite his tail-tucked first impression. I'm super grateful that his new people were able to look past the scared little dog they met today and imagine the "real" Cheddar with all of his spunkiness and joy. I am so excited for them to meet that Cheddar once he gets settled in with them at home. Out of all the dogs we've fostered, Cheddar did the most drastic 180 from shelter to home. His personality completely changed. I can't wait for his new family to see that side of him - the cheesy Cheddar who springboards off furniture, grins from ear to ear, rabid dog runs around the living room at 100mph, and entertains nonstop with his antics. Oh, Cheddar also gets a canine sibling out of the deal! His new Husky sister, Banksy, will surely keep him busy wrestling and playing day after day. Paws up for Cheddar and his first day of furever!

Settling in together

Siblings out for a walk

PUPDATE! Cheddar's first day in his furever home went very well. His mom says he and Banksy are well-matched energetically and even insisted on holding Cheddar's leash on their evening walk. They're playing great together and Cheddar is settling in well. Yay, Cheddar! Check out all the pawsome photos of him enjoying Banksy's company.

Playtime!

Introducing Cheddar: Say Cheese!

Me & Cheddar at the shelter

Meet Mr. Cheddar Cheese Man! He's a 2ish year old Red Tailed Firefox PapiPom (that's a Papillon / Pomeranian mix for you newbs). Cheddar has a double sided backstory. He originally came into the San Jose shelter as a stray back in January. He made his way into adoptions with his cute looks and sweet demeanor. Things were looking up for Cheddar, until his 88 year old adopter realized she couldn't keep up with his energy and acknowledged the danger of her tripping and falling over Cheddar. So, Cheddar found himself back at the shelter, this time as an owner surrender. Unfortunately, he didn't pass his behavioral evaluation this go around. Instead of the happy go lucky red dog they'd seen the first time, Cheddar was tense and nervous. He didn't make it into adoptions and found himself on the needs rescue list with a date on his head. You know how this story goes - I went in to do assessments and fell in love with Cheddar when he crawled into my lap. I always feel kind of bad taking an easy foster, but he was out of time and ready to roll. So, we rolled.

Cheddar is a nut. He runs around the house like a tasmanian devil. He thinks it's great fun to leap onto my lap and smother me with kisses until I can't breathe anymore. Also ears. He thinks ears taste delicious. He's a pretty intense little critter when it comes to affection, but he's so quiet it sort of balances out. We've had him for almost a week now and still haven't heard him bark once. He might whine occasionally or give a little "play with me" whimper, but no barking. He just smiles. All the time. That's how we settled on the name Cheddar, because he's always cheesin'.

Say cheese!

Even though our three guys are old geezers who don't really care to play much, Oliver is a good sport when Cheddar ambushes him. He tolerates Cheddar jumping up and down on him, chewing on his neck fat, chomping at his ankles, and licking his face trying to rile him up. Once in a while Oliver will give in and romp with him for a few, but usually he just stands there until Cheddar gives up and moves on to the next best thing. He's definitely a young dog who would really like some kids or another playful pup to wear him out throughout the day.

Although Cheddar didn't really need us per say, he needed out. The shelter was so tight on small dog space that week that I couldn't very well leave him behind, fully vetted and ready for adoption. So he's crashing with us for a while. I'm sure he'll get adopted super fast. He's a pretty easy little guy and would make a great first dog, apartment dog, kids' dog, multi-dog family dog, etc. I'm just glad he gets a third chance. That's all for now - stay tuned to hear how things turn out for Cheddar!

Happy Tails: Waffles & Koa!

This weekend brought happy tails for everyone! Both of our foster dogs, Waffles and Koa, found their forever families. It's nice and quiet at the Bowen house with just our three old geezers. We'll see how long that lasts...I think we're going to shoot for a week off here if possible. Anyhow, we're super happy for Waffles and Koa! They've both got fantastic lives ahead of them.

Waffles and his mommy

Waffles, foot healed and good as new, wound up as an only child. His mom is retired, so he's got all her time and affection all to himself. How nice! He'll love being the star, but hopefully she'll take him to daycare or the dog park every so often so he can get his crazy play on. He does love to socialize. His mom said they'll come in to my store and visit every now and then. I'll be sure and do a pupdate post on him after they come visit so you can hear how he's doing. Waffles is a nervous little guy when he first meets people, but he gave his new mom a face full of kisses right away. How awesome is that? His mom instantly fell in love with him and was moved to tears by his story, gentleness, and affection. Oh, and she's keeping the name "Waffles"! Love it when that happens! 

Waffles was sort of a co-foster effort. We pulled him and got his foot on the right track, then traded dogs with another foster family we're good friends with after about three weeks. Anne-Laure and Steed had been fostering a difficult Chihuahua named Mischa for a few months. Mischa hates men and was really having a rough time. We traded Mischa for Waffles to see if the change in scenery / routine would help at all and to give Anne-Laure and Steed a much deserved break. Waffles was a pretty easy dog - always happy, joyful, sweet, and playful. Sometimes you need a morale boost after dealing with a tough case for a while. Waffles gave them just that. Mischa's a story for another day. Anyway, Anne-Laure and Steed did a fantastic job with Waffles. They loved his carefree spirit just as much as we did. They continued helping his foot heal by giving him medicated foot soaks twice each day for a week (no joke...they're troopers) and making sure he took his antibiotics to ward off infection. Before long, his foot looked nearly perfect. We dog-sat Waffles for a few weekends here and there from that point on, but Anne-Laure and Steed remained his primary foster parents. It's been really cool to share the load so to speak with such good friends. Waffles became sort of a joint custody project, giving us all the opportunity to be touched by this sweet little dog's wonderful spirit.

Here's what Anne-Laure has to say about Waffles: "When Waffles first came into our house, he brought his liveliness and energy with him. Being used to Chihuahuas, we were a little unprepared for his athleticism when we left a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table. What would have been out of reach for a Chi definitely wasn't out of reach for the determined Waffle-nator's fast jaws. He ate all the food he could manage to get his paws/nose on. When there's no food around, he chomps on ice cubes after playing with them for a while first. This playful dog puts all his focus into whatever he's doing right right at the very minute he's doing it. If you take him on a car ride, it's his favorite thing ever. But so are walks, play time, belly rubs, cuddle time, dinner time, sleepy time, whatever! He loves it all! When he's content, he gently puts his chin on your arm and lets out a long sigh. He's the easiest, most loving little dog we've been lucky enough to have for a few days. He so wants love. I've never seen him show any sign of dislike toward anyone. One of my friends brought her 15 month old toddler over. She's scared of dogs so we were a little apprehensive, especially because Waffles has a much bigger bark than his size. He approached her very gently and rubbed his head on her, asking to be pet. When she felt safer, he chased her and she chased him back. When she picked up a little branch, he sat a few feet away from her with his eyes begging her to throw it. She didn't, so he very gently pulled the branch from her hand and threw it in the air for himself. He did that a few times, determined to teach her how to play fetch. This special little dog reassured my friend, I think, that dogs and toddlers are not incompatible. His gentleness combined with his puppy-ish love for play and passion for cuddle makes him the perfect dog in my book."

Derpfest!

None of us were able to make the adoption event this past Saturday. Anne-Laure dropped Waffles off at our house Friday night, planning to pick him up after the event on Saturday evening.. We snuggled, played, and enjoyed his company as usual. He's such a fun dog. We gave him a bath and cut his nails in prep for the event so he'd look his best. He'd had zero interest so far, which none of us understood given his endearing personality and extremely goofy cuteness. Saturday morning, I dropped him off at daycare on my way to work. He was transported to the event later that day. When I texted to ask how Waffles did, I nearly jumped out of my skin to hear that he was getting adopted. A lady had been pre-approved to adopt another Jake's Wish dog, but when she came to the event and saw Waffles it was love at first sight. We miss this happy little guy already, but we're so glad he's on to his forever! Best of luck to you, Waffle Cone!

Koa & her new momma!

Koa got the forever family of her dreams! She's got two canine brothers: Kielbasa the pittie and Sausage the Chihuahua. Sounds pretty perfect for her! Kielbasa needed a playmate. I'm sure he and Koa are running and wrestling as I type this. Koa's new people are great with training and consistency. The dogs have to wait for them to say "good morning" as the release phrase for coming out of their crates each morning! Too cute. Once per week, they're all allowed to sleep in bed with the people for a special night of snuggles. I'm so happy for Koa. I don't have as much to say about her happily ever after as I did for Waffles because we only had her for a week, but it's awesome to see this itty bitty happy pittie pup surrounded by love. I'm hoping we'll get photos of her once she's fully grown. If so, I'll be sure to share. Kisses, Koa!

Bonus: Waffles photo-bombing Koa in the backyard!

Pupdate: Douille's Happy Tail!

Dewey & his Mom

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:

Happy tails to you, Dewey! We're so happy you're living life to the fullest.
To read Douille's full story, click here: http://ohfortheloveofdogs.blogspot.com/2015/02/douille-sausage-king-of-san-jose.html

Herman: Letting Love Go

"Mini Flea"

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.