So Ugly They're Cute

I got to visit the bottle babies today, although they're not bottle babies anymore. They're very young, only about 5 weeks, and if they had a dog-mama they'd surely still be nursing, but they never liked the bottle much and were more than happy to wean. They gave me lots of kisses, but no one tried to suckle on my chin or nose today. They are fat and happy babies, and as much as I love them, I have to say that little Chex is one of the ugliest puppies I've ever seen! So ugly, she's cute, thank goodness. Chunky Chuck is still the biggest, and it looks like Chip is going to have blue eyes.

Skinny Ted

Ted was listed as a "cruelty impound", which means he was removed from his owner due to the poor treatment he received there. He went up for rescue at the county pound almost two weeks ago. He was too skinny and sick to go up for adoption. He has been on medication for over a week, but has not gained weight and still doesn't feel well. I'm worried he may have tick fever, or maybe valley fever. We'll be bringing him back to the vet soon.

What infuriates me about poor Ted is that the county pound neutered him before putting him up for rescue. They have recently begun "pre-altering" not just healthy, adoptable dogs but even the sick ones that are unadoptable. One of the primary reasons the county pound partnered with rescue groups originally was to give the unadoptable animals a safe place to recover BEFORE they underwent major surgery for sterilization. No ethical veterinarian would consider putting a sick, emaciated animal through elective surgery. Rescue groups provided the animal's foster home for the county, until the animal was healthy enough to undergo surgery. Once the animal was sterilized, it became the property of the rescue group. A few careless rescuers have neglected to keep good records and/or ensure that all of their county rescue animals have been altered before going to permanent homes, and as a result, the county has made this decision to "pre-alter" even the sick rescue animals. It's wrong to make animals suffer because of the failures of a few irresponsible people. Controlling pet overpopulation is extremely important, but not important enough to justify such inhumanity.

Just because an animal is on the rescue list does not mean that a rescue will be able to take it. Some of these animals will undergo sterlization surgery while sick, and then a day or two later, be put to death. It turns my stomach. I am dedicated to getting this horrible practice abolished.

The bottle babies sleep over

Tired... so, so tired... Suzanne went out of town for a week, so Helen and I each took three of her bottle feeder pups. Did I mention I'm TIRED? It's gotten a little bit easier with time, but I have to remember never to take bottle babies for more than 2 or 3 days ever again. The amount of laundry I have to do is unreal, and when they're screaming for the bottle, I want to cry. Now I know why I never had human babies!

Bottle Babies

A stray, possibly feral dog left two newborn puppies on a man's front porch. Later that day he found six more in various locations around his yard, and the mother dog didn't appear to be caring for them. Several of his neighbors came forward to help bottle feed the tiny pups, and they split them up between them, but very soon he and one of the neighbors became overwhelmed by the job, and called my rescue group for help.

Convincing puppies (and kittens) to take the bottle is not always easy; sometimes, even if they're desperately hungry, they squirm and cry and spit out the nipple. They also need to be fed every two or three hours around the clock when they're brand new. Finding volunteers with the time and energy for bottle babies is not easy. I love to bottle feed, but don't have the stamina to keep it up for weeks on end, so I get my fix by helping other fosters. Today my friend Lisa and I went to Suzanne's house to help her feed the six puppies turned over to rescue by the overwhelmed gentleman and his neigbor. My bottle leaked, and I probably soaked up as much milk as the puppies did, but it was still a treat for me. I even let one suckle on my nose for a few seconds, but not long enough to get a nose-hickey.

I think most puppies who still have their eyes closed look a lot more like woodchucks than dogs, and the fat little brown guy in the picture above is a great example. Apparently Suzanne agrees with me, as she named him Chuck today.

Tidbit is no longer suffering

Tidbit's troubles were not caused by a relapse of Tick Fever. He was admitted to the vet hospital yesterday, where the vet who examined him suspected a foreign body in his sinuses. They anesthetized him this morning and using a scope and x-rays, were able to see a large mass in his sinus cavity. Cancer. They didn't wake him up, just put him out of his misery.

Tidbit was 7 years old. Much of his life was spent in neglect, suffering, illness, and abuse. About a year ago, Dr. Stofft and his staff worked very hard to bring him back from the edge of death; when he was stable enough to come home, my partner Liz and I worked hard to help him complete his journey to health. We fed him good food and watched his gaunt frame fill in with muscle. We gave him medication to keep his allergy symptoms minimal. Our dog Darby did a wonderful job befriending him, putting him at ease, playing with him for hours every day, and showing him that humans give good ear scritches. It took many months, but eventually he learned to enjoy human touch. He started coming to me many times per day to get his scritches and give me a kiss. He would dance with joy at dinner time. He would take naps cuddled up with our dog Andie. He would chew a Nylabone with great gusto. He would stalk and pounce foster-cat Mia, occasionally letting out a hound-like BAROO! He would howl his mournful baritone howl when the pack got going. He was part of the family. We loved him, and he loved us.

What I wished for Tidbit was that he could have at least as many years of love and good health as he had of suffering and neglect. At the very least, I wish he could have passed without suffering for as long as he did before we figured out what was wrong with him, and let him go. I wish that all of the precious lives that must end could do so suddenly and gently, that each one of us, animal and human, could pass quietly and painlessly in our sleep with no pain or fear before hand. Life is hard enough. Why does losing it have to be so cruel? Doing animal rescue has taught me that suffering almost always precedes death. I'm so tired of seeing so much suffering, and of death so often being the only way to end it. Tidbit's suffering is over now, but we who loved him suffer on.

Today's Rescue

It's been a long time since I've been able to go down to the county pound and rescue a large, adult male dog. We've been adopting out a lot of puppies and small dogs lately, and our large adult dog adoptions have really slowed down. A foster home came available this weekend, and for once, there were no returns pending, and no other foster homes that needed to move a dog out. So I went down to the pound to scout out the dogs that had been placed on the rescue list. Any animal on the list is euthanized after 5:00 if not rescued.

The only adult male on the day's list had a note on his kennel card that stated, "Aggressive to small dogs." That was a deal-breaker: the foster has a little Brussels Griffon. But in the kennel next door, I spotted another male dog with the big "R" for rescue marked on his card. He wasn't on the day's rescue list because he was from the previous day's list. Technically, he should have been euthanized last night. Why was he spared? Maybe in part because the kennels were not very full, so space was not an issue; and maybe in part because he was just so nice. He had the typical depressed demeanor of a dog with a slight case of kennel cough that has been languishing at the pound unclaimed for two weeks, but when greeted, he wagged and kissed. A note on his card read, "Placed in kennel with small dachs x and large pit, OK, no aggression." Perfect!

He seemed bewildered and surprised when I opened his kennel door and led him down the aisles to the office area to complete his paper work. When I sat down to wait for my copy, he came alive with excitement, wiggling and kissing everyone within reach. It was as if he realized this was really it, he was finally leaving the bad place! As we walked out the door, I asked the prancing pup beside me, "What's your name, doggie?" and it hit me immediately: Dougie. Today was Dougie's lucky day, and he knew it!