Just some cute pictures today

Shock

Apparently I spend a lot of time at the pound. Tonight two of the techs asked if I wanted to throw a sleeping bag on the floor and move in.

It was an unusually hard night. As soon as I walked in the door, I was told that every cat in the adoption room would have to be out by 3:00 on Sunday. They had decided that all of the cats had been exposed to upper respiratory infection, and they want to disinfect the room. This seems strange to me because URI is constantly present in the adoption room; it has always been present in the adoption room. It will be completely contaminated again within a week or two, once more cats are put there that were exposed to URI before they arrived. In any case, there are about 30 cats that need to be rescued.

As I was walking through the kennels, I spotted a chihuaha having a seizure on the wet concrete floor. I ran to find a staff member. I'm worried it might have been distemper, a highly contagious disease that attacks the nervous system, and the chihuaha's two kennel mates will be euthanized just because they were exposed.

The kennel cards for animals being released for rescue are kept in the treatment room. Sick and injured animals are kept in cages in one half of the room; animals are euthanized in the other half. The basket for the rescue cards is on the euthanasia half of the room. If you're there after hours, and you need to see a rescue card, you can either find a kennel tech and ask him to fetch it for you, or you can go in yourself and risk witnessing a scene like the one I saw tonight. A dog I had been petting just 15 minutes ago, an old Mexican Hairless dog with terrible skin lesions, was dead on top of a pile of carcasses heaped in a wheelbarrow. A black cat was lying lifeless on the counter with a syringe still in its heart. The floor in front of the rescue card basket was stained with shit and blood where a dozen animals had recently died.

To top off the evening, a little chihuahua that had been hit by a car was huddled in a small cage on the floor of the intake area. It was curled in a tight ball, its eyes wide open but not focused on anything. There were no apparent signs of injury, but it seemed to be in shock, or at least deeply traumatized. Its eyes blinked when I crouched down in front of the cage and spoke to it softly, but it didn't respond otherwise. I opened the cage and straightened one of its ears that was bent backwards; I stroked its head and shoulders and back. No response. I checked its gums; they were pink, which is good. But there were small drops of pinkish liquid coming from its nose. When the kennel teched picked it up, it urinated in terror.

I feel like I've been punched in the emotional gut. I feel like I need to disinfect my brain. I feel totally exhausted.

No Dogs Allowed

Yesterday I took my 5 orange foster kittens to a PetSmart Luv-A-Pet adoption center, where they'll stay until they are adopted. I have to wonder if mama cat is lonely in her room by herself, or if she is content to be alone, her kittens successfully raised and heading out into the world. (These pictures were taken several weeks ago, when the kittens were only about 6 weeks old.

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I handle returns for my adoption group, and yesterday we had an interesting one. I thought I had heard every story and excuse imaginable over the years, but this was a new one for me.

About six months ago, I received a call from a woman, M, who said she had just adopted one of our puppies from her son and daughter in law. Daughter in law had adopted the puppy from us, as a "surprise" for her husband, who was overseas at the time. I was irritated to hear this; if she had told the adoption counselor that her husband did not know about the puppy, we would have denied the adoption. Everyone in the household must know about and agree to the addition of a pet. In this case, shortly after the puppy was adopted, hubby announced that they would soon be moving overseas, and they could not take the puppy. Apparently, no dogs are allowed "overseas", wherever that is.

The adopters were in violation of their contract, having given the dog away without contacting us first; we would have been within our rights to ask for the dog back. Instead, we simply changed our records to reflect the new owner of the puppy.

A little over a week ago, M called us again to ask us if she was allowed to keep the dog outside. She had recently moved to a new house, and she could not get the dog to stop eliminating inside the house. She felt she had to keep him outside during the day. A friend of hers had criticized her for it. She was considering giving the dog to this friend. She had read our adoption contract, and thought it stated that our dogs should "never" be outside. I asked her where the dog sleeps at night; she said, in the garage. I asked her if she spent any time with the dog during the day; she said she worked from home, and was frequently outside with the dog. I told her that was OK, as long as the dog was protected from weather and had human companionship. Our contract stipulates no outside only dogs, and although the garage is not my personal ideal, it's an adequate place for a dog to sleep.

A week later, M called again. She wanted to know if it was possible to return the dog. She had thought her friend would take it, and give her $95 for it, but she couldn't get hold of her friend. She wanted to know if we took the dog back and adopted the dog out again, could she have the money we got for his adoption fee? She needed to re-pay her son for the dog. Apparently, when M offered to solve her son's "overseas" problem and take the dog for him, he demanded that she pay for the privelege. He wanted not only the adoption fee his wife had paid for the puppy, but also reimbursement for the supplies he had purchased. The total came to nearly $300, and M could not afford to pay it.

I told her no, we would not give her the dog's adoption fee. I told her I thought it was outrageous that her son was trying to make her pay for doing him a favor. His wife made a commitment when she adopted the dog, and should accept responsibility for her mistake in making that commitment. M had also made a commitment to the dog, and now she should take responsibility for her mistake. I told her it was time her family stopped trying to make money off of this dog. She pointed out that she wasn't trying to MAKE money, just pay her son back, and that he wouldn't make any money either, he just wanted to break even.

:: banging my head against the desk ::

And here comes the good part: I asked her why she could no longer keep the dog, and she said she was moving out of state. I asked her if the state she was moving to didn't allow dogs; she said she was moving out of state to enter a monastery, and they didn't allow dogs.

Okey dokey!

I found a foster for the dog, and had M bring it to one of our adoption centers for the foster to pick up. Strangely enough, within 5 minutes of the dog's arrival, a new family fell in love with her and adopted her. If you pray, please say a prayer that this is the dog's true forever home.

Boxer mix bonanza

I was up at 6:30 this morning and out the door by 7:15 with two carriers full of five fluffy orange foster kittens. They are 10 weeks old now and today was their appointment at the vet clinic for their spay/neuter surgery, shots, tests for FIV and FeLV, and microchips. Fifteen minutes into the drive, my cell phone rang. Jennifer had just gotten a call from a tech at the pound: a boxer mix mama dog and her 12 tiny puppies had been scheduled for euthanasia this morning. They had already Aced the mama dog (gave her Acepromezine, a sedative) in preparation for the Euthanol (a drug that stops the heart)when they looked at one another, and said, "We can't euthanize this dog without at least calling rescue". I really thought we were full, but Jennifer and I put our heads together and came up with a plan: we'd beg a cat foster to stash the mom and pups as best she could for a week, and by then all of Joan's current foster puppies would get adopted, and we could move the mom and puppies to Joan's.

As soon as I dropped my foster kittens at the spay/neuter clinic on the east side of town, I headed back over to the pound on the west side. Mama dog and her pups were in the treatment room, and poor mama was still very doped up on Ace. We weren't sure she would be able to walk. But when I opened the cage to put on her collar and leash, she lurched up to greet me; and when she spotted the kitty in the kennel across the aisle, she staggered out of her cage and made a drunken charge at the cat, brought up short by the leash. I loaded her fat, two week old babies into a carrier and walked them out to the van. Her spine and hip bones were protruding, yet her teats were literally dripping with milk. It always amazes me how the bodies of half-starved nursing mothers seem to channel nearly every morsel of nutrition they ingest to their milk; twelve sleek, fat puppies can practically suck the life out of a dog who isn't getting enough calories.

I loaded up two more dogs, coincidentally both female boxer mixes, which I had already planned to pick up and bring to our mid-town office where I would meet their foster a few hours later. When the foster saw the mama dog and puppies, she melted, and to my surprise she offered to take them, along with the two she had already agreed to take. The cat foster was off the hook, and we wouldn't have to move them in a week after all. We loaded them all in her truck, along with two huge bags of food; she assured me that no dog stays skinny for long at her house. I knew it was true. The first dog she had ever fostered for us, a beautiful Catahoula hound, had come out of the pound with a wicked case of kennel cough, and was just a bag of skin and bones. A few months later, she was healthy, shiny and sleek.

After mopping up several gallons of pee and a little bit of puppy poop, I picked up my groggy foster kittens and headed home. The poor babies did not get a warm welcome: their mother didn't recognize their smell, and won't let them come near her; if they try, she hisses and smacks them. She had been letting them nurse up until now, even though they are far past weaning age. They are having to grow up fast today!

The Hard Part

Tonight at the pound, I had to advocate for a dog's death.

I was going down adoption row, looking for cards with a red "R", which means the dog is no longer available for public adoption and must be rescued. I came across a large sheltie mix or small collie mix that was obviously very old, and one of her eyes was partially obscured by a red inner eyelid. I checked the card, and it told me she had been relinquished by her owner last night. Distressed, I stopped and said out loud, "Why? Who would do this to you?" A kennel tech was right next to me, and said, "I know, can you believe it?" I pointed out the injured or infected eye, then asked, "Where the hell are her ears?" I couldn't tell if they were just tiny, like a Shar-Pei, or if they had been cropped. I asked the tech to unlock the kennel for me, which she did. Both ear flaps were shrivelled, lumpy and hard; I lifted one, and found the inside was full of black gunk, the flesh underneath bright red. Just then I looked at the floor and saw fluid tinged with blood.

I said to the tech, "This dog has an eye infection, an ear infection, she's pissing blood, and she's about a hundred years old. Why the hell did she get put on the adoption line?"

Five minutes later, the kennel tech responsible for the dog's intake was being read the riot act by the kennel manager. The kennel supervisor asked if my rescue could take the dog; I told her, "Even if we could get that poor dog healthy, she would never get adopted. I wish we had a sanctuary for dogs like her, but we don't. She should have been euthanized last night." She agreed, and said they'd just have to put the poor thing down tomorrow.

I could just throttle the owners who relinquished this sweet, ancient, badly neglected dog. I would also like to slap the tech who didn't bother to LOOK at the dog before he put her up for adoption. If anyone had wanted her, the vet would have taken one look at her and cancelled the adoption. She was doomed, and putting her on the adoption line only prolonged her suffering.

My dream is to someday open a sanctuary just for dogs like this: old, sick, neglected, unadoptable, but still full of love and hope and life. I had to walk past her kennel twice more before my evening was over, and both times she rushed to the front, wagging at me eagerly, as though she'd made a new friend. I felt like I had failed her, betrayed her, even though I had done the best I could. I told her I loved her, and I was sorry.

Itty Bitty Pitties and a Poodle

I got a call from the pound today about two tiny pitbull puppies that came in skinny and dehydrated. They are old enough to be weaned, but just barely. Coincidentally, one of our fosters took two little pitbull puppies about a month ago, and just this past weekend they both got adopted. I called and asked her if she wanted two more, and she was eager to take them.

As I was sitting in the receiving area doing the paperwork on the puppies, a man and his three children came in with their dog, which looked like a miniature poodle that had never been groomed. Underneath the dirt, it was white. He said he used to live in a house with a big yard, but since he moved into a townhome with a small yard and neigbors all around, he had gotten complaints about the dog's barking. I asked, "Is he an outside only dog?" and the man said yes. The children weren't even a little bit sad to see their pet go.

The dog was shy, but allowed the kennel techs to pet him, so they put him on the adoption line. He'll probably get adopted quickly, and that's a good thing, since I'll bet he's never been vaccinated and will catch kennel cough, if not parvo, both of which are raging through the kennel right now. (I learned yesterday that my foster Snuffy, the ugliest dog in the world, was exposed to parvo; two puppies he shared his kennel with died of it over the weekend.) I just pray this poodle goes to a home where he will be groomed regularly, and will get to come in the house and sleep on soft beds and couches and laps instead of dirt.

Is he uglier coming or going?

1/6/07

It’s been a busy week for me. The madness began on Wednesday, when I got a call from the pound asking if we could take a mother dog and her 9 tiny puppies. Jennifer (another rescue volunteer) and I put our heads together, and came up with a plan: Cathy could foster another mom and pups if the mom of her previous litter, Elaine, was moved to another foster home. We remembered that Rob and Rachel only had one foster dog, and they soon agreed to take Elaine so Cathy could have the new litter. Thank you, Rob and Rachel!

After a meeting with the manager of the county pound to discuss some changes to rescue procedures, Jennifer and I met Cathy in the kennels. Mom dog was supposedly an “Aussie mix”, but turned out to be a big-headed, long-legged, deep-chested dog with a short brindle coat. We’re guessing Great Dane mix. She was desperately skinny. Her puppies looked fat and healthy, in every shade of brindle, with a few solid browns and two spotted ones. We know they’ll be well cared for at Cathy’s house. Thank you, Cathy!

On Thursday, Jennifer got a call from the pound about a sweet little boxer with kennel cough that needed to be rescued. Jennifer decided she could foster the dog, but she had to be bailed out by Friday morning and Jennifer had to work, so I agreed to pick up the dog and take her to the rescue group's headquarters, where Jennifer would pick her up that afternoon. At the pound, I brought the little boxer out of her kennel in sickbay and started her paperwork. She had been impounded on Christmas Eve, so I named her Eve. Little Eve thought she was a lap dog, and took turns climbing into anyone’s lap who sat down close enough. She would lean into my chest and soak up the hugs. Before I left, I saw an adorable, fluffy little terrier or shih-tzu mix whose release date was that day. She had a small but deep wound on her side, so she would not be able to go up for public adoption. I thought she would be the perfect foster for me.

Later that day, I got a message from the pound that there were numerous dogs in need of rescue, could we take any? I returned that evening and found about eight kennel cards in the rescue basket. I evaluated the animals, eliminating a couple that showed aggression, and recorded the rest of them in my notebook. I sat down and called Jennifer, and we wracked our brains for foster homes for six dogs. One was a Jack Russell that would be particularly hard to place: she had been exposed to canine parvovirus, and although she showed no signs of it, she still might develop the illness, which is highly contagious. Finding a foster home where other dogs would not be put at risk would be a challenge.

Another dog that needed to be rescued was the ugliest little dog I had ever seen: he had the beginning of cataracts in his prominent eyes, a wicked under-bite, crooked, misshapen legs, and bald spots on his hind end, probably calluses from sitting on a hard surface for long periods of time. He shivered and wagged his tail and gave me kisses through the chain link. He had too many imperfections to go up for public adoption. How could I give this little wreck to an unsuspecting foster? I certainly couldn’t leave him behind. I would have to take him myself. I named him Snuffy, and he came home with me that night. The others would have to wait until the next day.

We had no idea where to place several of the dogs, but that night, Jennifer got a call from a woman named Keri who wanted to foster for us; she said she could take two dogs. There were two small dogs that had been at the pound on a bond hold since December 19. Their owner had failed to pay their bond, and now they had kennel cough. The older dog had become very depressed and withdrawn. There was also my small, fluffy dog to place, so on Saturday morning I called Keri and asked if she could take all three dogs, since they were so small. She wasn’t sure she could, so I told her we would keep looking for another foster. Later that morning Jennifer remembered another foster, Lori, who had taken a puppy earlier in the week, but might be able to take a second foster. I gave her a call, and sure enough, she was game.

Before I left the house that morning, I checked my messages: a mama dog with 10 babies had been relinquished last night and needed to go to rescue, could we take them? The only foster I could think of who takes moms and babies, Joan, was currently fostering a batch of older puppies, but she and another foster, Jane, had split a large litter of older puppies between them. The two batches of puppies could be re-combined with no risk of contagion, since they were all from the same litter. I drove to the adoption center at PetSmart where Joan and Jane were working as adoption counselors to see how many of their puppies were left. Only one of the 8 had been adopted, but Joan agreed to take them all so Jane could take the mama dog and her tiny babies. Thank you, Joan and Jane!

From there I headed to the pound, where I did the paperwork for the three small dogs and the mama dog. I named two of them after the kennel techs who had been the most helpful to me in the past two days, Helen and Mindy. Little Mindy was the fluffy cutie I had passed over in favor of the ugliest dog in the world; I felt a little bit wistful as I loaded her in the van. Next I led the two dogs that had been held on bond, a wirehaired dachshund mix named Paloma and a cocker/poodle mix named Monica, out of their kennel. The older one didn’t want to get up at first; when she finally rose and stepped out of her bed, she only took a few steps before her front legs collapsed, and she stood there with her chin on the floor looking dazed. I was worried that her kennel cough was something more severe, and she was too sick to walk, but after some encouragement she gained her feet and came trotting after me. We were almost out of the kennels when she gave up again; she was too frightened and overwhelmed to take another step. I picked her up, and she shook in my arms. Before I made it out the door, a kennel tech asked if we could take a mastiff mix that had been on the adoption line for days, but had become very depressed, and was losing weight. I said we’d try to find a foster.

Before I could deliver the three small dogs to their fosters, I had to stop by the rescue headquarters and pick up a pregnant cat, which I would transport to her foster back on the far northwest side of town. Then I drove to the rendezvous point where I had arranged to meet the fosters of the small dogs, a Starbucks parking lot at a major intersection. As I was waiting for them to arrive, I got a call from the pound: a husky mix on the adoption line had come down with a snotty nose, could we take him? Jennifer told me she had received another call from a person who wanted to foster for us, but she needed a smaller, female dog. (We thought she might take the Jack Russell that had been exposed to parvo, but her own dog has valley fever, so we won’t risk exposing him when his immune system is compromised.) So I called another foster, Casey, who only had one foster dog at the moment and might take a second foster dog. She said she would. Thank you, Casey!

Little Mindy was transferred to new mama Lori’s care without a hitch, but Paloma and Monica were more of a challenge. Poor Paloma scared her new mama Kari half to death by collapsing onto her face again, apparently overcome by stress. She recovered nicely once she was safely stowed in the back of the SUV with her sister; but as we shut the hatch, the little devils squeezed out just before it closed, and ran in different directions. I stepped on Paloma’s leash almost immediately, but little Monica was quicker, and nearly ran under a moving car before poor Kari could step on her leash and scoop her up. Once safely stowed in the back of the car once more, both dogs scrambled out of the cargo area and began to explore. Naughty Monica managed to step on the door lock, and lock all of the doors; thankfully, mama Kari had the keys. We were very careful and quick when we loaded a bag of dog food in the front seat, and soon they were safely on their way home. Thank you, Lori and Kari!

I was on the final leg of the giant loop I had been making around the city, and could only hope the pregnant cat would not give birth in her carrier before I could deliver her into foster mama Rita’s care. She didn’t. I came home to the ugliest dog in the world, who greeted me with the same love and enthusiasm as my own dogs. I made a call to Jane to see how her mother dog and 10 tiny puppies had settled in; they were fine, and Jane happened to mention that one of her foster dogs had been adopted today, and her foster brother was all alone in his yard, and could use a companion. I asked if he might like a skinny, depressed mastiff mix for a new friend, and Jane thought he might. Tomorrow, I will pick up the mastiff from the pound and deliver him to Jane’s house, after Casey picks up the husky mix.

1/7/07

After a morning of transporting cats to Oro Valley, I headed over to the pound, where I discovered the mastiff had not been released for adoption after all. I called Jane and told her I might bring her a different dog, if there was one that needed rescue. Casey was on her way to pick up the husky mix, but I still hadn’t found a foster for the Jack Russell. Suddenly I realized that the only dog at Casey’s house was a fully vaccinated adult: the risk of him contracting parvo, if the Jack Russell had it, was minimal. When she arrived, I asked her if she was willing to risk it, and she was. So Millie the Jack Russell went home with Casey and her other foster dog, Leon, who seemed happy to have the company. Thank you, Casey!

Oddly enough, the husky mix also had the name “Millie” on her kennel card, but we couldn’t have two dogs with the same name, so I changed it to Tillie. I boosted her skinny frame into the van and trekked over the Tucson mountains to Jane’s house. It was a treat to tour her little private animal sanctuary, and meet her many rescued cats and dogs. I also helped name Helen’s 10 tiny puppies, and delivered a few bags of food for her 4 adult foster dogs. Tillie handled her many introductions graciously, and I know she’ll fatten up quickly in Jane’s care. Thank you, Jane!

In five days, I had signed out and coordinated foster care for 9 adult dogs and 19 puppies. Without the intervention of rescue volunteers, they all would have been put to death at the pound.