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!