Courage and friends

Courage is one of seven kittens rescued from the pound two days ago. Her foster immediately noticed that her tail was "crunchy" and there was a red lump at the base on the underside. Foster mom was unable to take the kitten to the vet, so as the driver of my rescue group's van, I provided transportation.

Rather than take her into the vet's office in her carrier, I decided to hold her against my chest to give her some comfort, as she had been crawling around the carrier looking for her mama and littermates, mewing pitifully. She quieted immediately once I picked her up, and the staff in the vet clinic enjoyed seeing her. I took her picture with the camera in my outstretched hand while we waited for the vet in the examination room. A minute after the picture was taken, she looked up into my face, then leaned backward until she was laying on her back in my hand and started batting at me with her tiny paws. She wanted to play! I tickled her with one finger, and she grabbed it and licked it. I've never seen anything more cute.

The vet says that Courage's tail was broken approximately a week ago (when she was only about 3 days old) and now the tail is dead. It will have to be removed, but she is too tiny for anesthesia right now; she only weighs half a pound. She's on antibiotics and will have surgery when she's big enough.

The second picture is Mr. Big, the German Shepherd I wrote about in my last entry. Today I transported him to his new foster with GSD Rescue, and handing him over was extremely hard. I wish I was in a position to keep him, but the timing just isn't right. Some day I hope to own a GSD very much like him. He's an amazing boy.

The third picture is Andie the semi-feral Chihuahua from a few entries back in the crate with my dog Darby. If we crate Andie by herself, she will wake us up at the crack of dawn crying; if we crate her with Darby, she'll happily sleep late. Darby is the kindest, gentlest dog you'd ever like to meet, and happily shares her crate with the occasional small foster dog.

German Shepherd

This handsome boy is the only survivor of 22 dogs impounded from one home. There were two dog corpses in the yard, and most of the living dogs were heavily infested with ticks, emaciated, and sick. They all tested positive for either tick fever (erlichiosis) or heartworm, or both. 21 of the dogs were euthanized; I was told that this one was spared because one of the officers fell in love with him. In any case, the county vet wrote "call rescue groups" on his kennel card, and so the kennel staff called me.

My rescue group is full right now, but I often contact breed rescues about purebred dogs. The representative of a German Shepherd rescue up in Phoenix said her rescue group was short on funds, and she was hesitant to take on a dog with a lot of health issues. I told her that our group would assist her with vet costs, if she had room for him. She asked me to find out if he was good with other dogs, and if so, help transport him to a third party, "D", in another city who would transport him to Phoenix this weekend. I agreed, and today I took him out of his tiny, dirty kennel and walked him past numerous dogs; he did not react. When a runaway Fox Terrier came nose-to-nose with him, he sniffed politely and wagged his tail. It was a go!

He was skin and bones and his coat was dull and brittle, and despite 4 tubes of Protical and gobs of Adams tick spray, he still had dozens of live ticks attached to him. But he pulled on the leash to get at interesting smells; he trotted happily a time or two as we walked around the shelter; he greeted every person who passed. He was alert, bright-eyed, and very interested in food. His teeth had only moderate tartar and not much wear; I'm no expert, but I didn't think he could be more than 3 or 4 years old. I felt confident that despite his medical issues, he was remarkably strong and full of life, and would flourish with good nutrition and veterinary care.

I filled out his rescue paperwork, and just as I was going out the door, a kennel tech came running from the clinic and said, "The vet says she spoke to German Shepherd Rescue and they've decided to pass on the dog because it has heartworms and tick fever." That made no sense, since I had already told the rescue rep what his issues were. I checked my cell phone, wondering why no one had called me, and discovered that it had turned itself off; it has been doing that lately. Sure enough, I had several messages. I called my contact at German Shepherd Rescue and she said, "The vet told D that he's 8 years old, and has heartworm and tick fever, and he probably has valley fever as well, and it might be best if he didn't have to go through all that treatment, which he might not survive. We think it might be best if they just put him to sleep so he can die with dignity."

I was completely flabbergasted. There is absolutely no dignity in dying at the county pound, covered in filth and ticks. I didn't think he could possibly be 8 years old, and she was speaking as if he was a frail, fragile, decrepit old husk who was better off dead. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Why on earth would the vet mark this dog for rescue, keep him alive for 3 days in an atrociously overcrowded shelter, then try to talk his rescuers out of rescuing him? It makes no sense. I told her she could back out if she wanted to, but there was no way I was taking that dog back through that door into the pound. When she realized I had already filled out the paperwork and was out the door, she agreed to take him after all.

He jumped up into the van and into the crate like he'd been doing it all his life. I drove him to my rescue group's office, where I scrubbed him with tick shampoo. I opened a big can of dog food; he ate it in 3 bites. I gave him a bowl of dry food, and he snarfed that down in 30 seconds. I put him in a large crate with a second bowl of dry food; when I came back 3 or 4 hours later to take him out for a potty break, I gave him another bowl of kibble. I spent an hour brushing him, picking ticks, feeding him biscuits, and applying Ovitrol spray. We trotted around outside for a while, and then I put him back in his cage with yet another bowl of kibble.

I think this handsome gentleman is a survivor. I could be wrong; the heartworm treatment might take his life. But even if it does, I will not regret taking him out of the pound. He is getting the care he deserves. If he dies, he will die well-fed and well-loved, not stinking of his own waste, his body hauled to the county dump with dozens of others. If he dies, he will die with dignity.

Feral Chihuahua

This 5 pound Chihuahua puppy lived in an industrial park by the railroad tracks for approximately six months. The employees at a warehouse spotted her in the parking lot one winter day, skinny and limping. They called her and tried to lure her indoors, but she wouldn't come close to them. They put out food and water for her, and saw her nearly every day. They spotted her squeezing through a small gap into their truck bay for shelter now and then, but mostly she lived outdoors, vulnerable to coyotes, larger stray dogs, owls, cars, and the elements.

Eventually some of the men enticed her close to them with tasty treats; she seemed to enjoy their company, and would take food from their hands, but they couldn't pet her or catch her. One man, Andy, won her heart by feeding her canned food and turkey slices; he tamed her enough that she would shyly lick his fingers and let him scratch her chin before skittering off. One day, he spotted a tick clinging to her skin, and managed to catch her when she came close for a treat. He put her on his lap and removed the tick. She stayed in his lap for five minutes, letting him pet her, before he put her down and she scampered off again.

Andy's wife finally convinced him that an industrial park is no place for a tiny Chihuahua, and to contact rescue groups about finding a home for her. When I heard her story, I had to help. I asked Andy if he thought he could catch her again; he said he thought he could. We set a time to meet, and he brought her to me in a pet carrier. When I transferred her from his carrier to mine, she panicked and struggled and threatened to nip me, but she didn't. I named her Andie.

I have a small yard with a covered patio off my kitchen, and this became her temporary new home. At first, Andie was terrified of my three dogs, but she quickly realized they meant her no harm, and within a couple of days she was nose-kissing and wagging her tail at them shyly but playfully. She was fascinated with my cats, and would flirt with them through the sliding glass door. When my partner or I would step outside, she would run away, then quickly trot back to sniff our legs and lick our fingertips, wagging her tail happily. We decided she was only semi-feral.

By the third day, Andie spent most of her time laying by the sliding glass door, gazing in at us longingly. We began to try to coax her inside; for two days, she would put her head in the door, then her front feet, but run away at the slightest movement or sound. On the fourth day, it started to rain, and we were determined to get her inside. The rain probably convinced her it was worth the risk. She explored the house, sniffed the cats, and soon learned that she could go outside again whenever she wanted. Luring her inside got easier each time. That night, we caught her and carried her into the bedroom, where we put her in a crate with our dog Darby. She slept quietly all night.

We've had her for about 2 weeks now, and she hasn't gone potty in the house once. She trots right into the crate whenever we ask. Since she is both house trained and crate trained, we figure she's only 1/4 feral. Today she let my partner reach out and pet her body without skittering away for the first time. She still doesn't enjoy sitting on my lap very much, but I keep trying!

Terrible news

The picture is puppy Wanda, second smallest of a litter of 11, next to her big brother Wags, a.k.a. "Gordo", the biggest of the litter. Their brother Walter had a serious upper respiratory infection that wasn't improving. He stayed at the vet for several days so that he could receive supportive care. They also ran some tests, and on Friday we learned that my worst fear had come true: Walter had distemper.

Distemper is a terrible disease. It is fairly rare in the general pet dog population, since most pet owners vaccinate their puppies; however, it can flourish in economically depressed areas where dogs are rarely vaccinated. Many of the dogs that end up in our county pound come from just such an area, so it is not uncommon there. Puppies are especially vulnerable, and we lose entire litters. One or two may survive, but sometimes puppies that appear to have recovered will suddenly succumb to neurological damage, including seizures and blindness. And while you wait to see if any puppies survive, chances are high that all or most of them will suffer terribly. We have seen entire litters die horrible deaths one by one. This is why it's our policy to euthanize all of the puppies in a litter when one has been diagnosed with distemper.

The foster mom was completely devastated. She has nurtured and loved these babies for over a month. But she could see that at least 3 of the puppies were already deteriorating quickly, and the rest were strangely lethargic. I feel sure that every one of them had contracted the disease and was already beginning to suffer, and euthanasia was the most merciful option. The foster kissed each puppy goodbye, and thanked them for bringing her so much joy. I told them I was sorry we couldn't save their lives. We both cried.

Wendell a.k.a. Duke, the tiniest of the litter, was separated from his brothers and sisters and sent to a different foster home on the day they were rescued from the pound. We are hoping that he was not exposed to the disease. It's possible that he has already had it, and recovered; or, he could develop symptoms at any time. Because of his early separation from his littermates, and because his foster family intends to adopt him, and because he has been thriving for several weeks, he will not be euthanized. His foster mom is enjoying every moment she has with him, and feels he is a gift from God. She says he gets stronger and develops more personality every day. He visited the vet today, where he got two tiny stitches in his eyelid to lift the lashes off of his eyeball; the vet hopes that full entropian surgery will not be necessary. They took a scraping of his skin problem; hopefully we'll know soon what it is and how to treat it. He weighed in at a whopping 3.2 pounds!

Please pray for Duke, and for all of his brothers and sisters. I know they will be waiting at the Rainbow Bridge for the foster mom who gave them so much love in the time they had together. doGspeed Walter, Wags, Waffles, Weeble, Wasabi, Waverly, Wellesley, Wesley, Wanda, and Webster.

Cutest puppy ever?

Mama Wendy is a Shar-Pei mix, and fairly big; she weighed about 50 lbs. when I rescued her, and was at least 15 lbs. underweight. As I picked up her 11 puppies one by one to carry them to the car, we noticed a wide range of sizes, and when I came to the last puppy I exclaimed at how tiny and thin he was. He was wriggling and full of life, but it was obvious he hadn't been getting much milk and couldn't compete with his much larger siblings. The volunteer who was helping me impulsively offered to take the puppy home and give him the extra care he needed. I knew the foster of the emaciated mom and the other 10 puppies would have her hands full, so I accepted her offer.

Wendell, a.k.a. Duke, had a lot of obstacles to overcome. Besides being skinny, he battled with kennel cough, coccidia (an intestinal parasite that causes diarrhea), corneal scarring due to entropian (a condition where the eyelashes touch the eyeball and cause irritation), a large lump on the side of the neck that may have been "puppy strangles" and a scabby-looking skin condition that may or may not be ringworm. He also hasn't grown much; he's about 7 weeks old now, and only weighs about 2.5 lbs. Could his daddy have been a Chihuahua?? One of his littermates is so big, I have to wonder if HIS daddy was a mastiff!

Wendell's foster mom has done a great job caring for him, and now I get to puppy-sit while she's out of town. He is mostly over the coccidia, the kennel cough is gone, the lump on his neck disappeared, and he's getting eye drops for the entropian until it can be corrected surgically; the only problem that isn't under control yet is the unknown skin condition, but we'll figure it out. He's eating like a little piggy, and loves to play with soft tuggy toys, other dogs, and my foster kitten Ivory. Just watching him toddle around makes me laugh.

Puppy Love

My rescue group doesn't have a shelter; our animals stay in foster homes until they are adopted. We do have a storefront in a mini-mall where we have office space, storage space, and a few kennels. We used to have regular hours and do adoptions there, but traffic was too slow so it wasn't worth the volunteer hours. Now the kennels are used to house animals for short periods of time until they can go to their foster homes. Yesterday, I got a call about one of our cats that had been turned in to the Humane Society. The owners didn't mention that it was one of ours, but the staff there scanned for a microchip, and it came back registered to our rescue. I picked her up from the Humane Society and took her to our storefront, and after I set her up in a kennel, I returned to my van, only to be flagged down in the parking lot by a gentleman in a car... with a puppy. It was just chance that I happened to be there when he was, and we don't usually take animals from the public, but once I heard his story (and held the puppy) I couldn't turn him away. He said that two weeks ago, some people in a pick-up truck were giving away 6 week old puppies in his church parking lot. He took one home and named her Amber; he bought her toys and a blanket, took her to the vet and had her vaccinated, and tried to integrate her into his home, but one of his older dogs was not adjusting well. She reacted to little Amber with increasing aggression as the days passed, and he began to fear for her safety. He didn't want to take her to a shelter, where he knew she'd be exposed to disease and at risk of being euthanized. He knew we were a no-kill organization, and thought he'd take a chance. He had brought along her puppy chow, her blankie, her stuffed toys, and her vet records; he even gave us a generous cash donation. I didn't know where I was going to put her, but I figured one small, adorable puppy would find a place without too much trouble.

Amber spent the night in a crate at our storefront. I found her a foster home, but the foster "mom" couldn't pick her up until this afternoon, and I didn't want her staying at the storefront all alone for such a long time, so this morning I picked her up and brought her to my house for a play-date with my dog Darby. Darby was a foster dog that never left. She loves to play with other dogs, and she's very gentle even with the little ones. Amber proved to be a very good house-guest and did all her piddles outside; her worst habit was getting right between our feet whenever we tried to walk around the house. She and Darby enjoyed each other as much as I thought they would. I took the pictures while sitting in the armchair in the living room; Darby (a 45 lb. pit bull mix) was perched on the arm of the chair, and the puppy was next to me on the seat. I call the way they're playing "bitey face" or "face wrestling", for obvious reasons. When they were done playing, the puppy fell asleep on the back of the chair, like a cat; eventually she slid down on to the seat and snuggled up next to me for the rest of her nap. It was a fun 4 hours, but she wore us all out. I was happy to send her home with her foster.

"Lethal White"

Last weekend when I was picking up my mama cat and her babies from the pound, I saw this "lethal white" Australian Shepherd in the kennels.

The term "lethal white" originated in the horse world, where it was used to describe a genetic anomaly that caused some foals to be born pure white, and die shortly after birth. The term is a misnomer when applied to dogs because Aussies with this genetic disorder rarely die of it. Instead, they are usually deaf, and are either totally blind or suffer from a variety of eye defects. There is some anecdotal evidence that they are also more likely to suffer from immune system defects and other health problems, but this observation has not been proven. You can read more about Lethal Whites, and what causes this genetic disorder, in the link provided in the links section on the side bar of this blog.

His release date was already 3 days past, and notes scribbled on the card indicated that he was only to be released to rescue, if at all; the shelter vet was out of town, and hadn't had a chance to evaluate him yet. The notes said she would evaluate him "when she got back", but did not say when that would be. I also noticed that Border Collie rescue's name and phone number had been written on the card. This was Sunday evening. That night, I sent an e-mail with his picture to a rescue group that specializes in "lethal white" Aussies. This group is located in a city about two hours away, but I was fairly certain they had foster homes here. Sure enough, the next day I received a reply from the rescue group thanking me for alerting them to his presence at the pound. She called the kennel manager, who knew nothing about the dog; the call was passed on to the kennel supervisor, who acknowledged that the dog was there, and still needed to be evaluated by the vet. The lethal white rescue rep expressed her interest in the dog, and asked the kennel supervisor to please call her once the dog was released for rescue. She would then send a local foster to pick up the dog.

Tuesday I received a call from the foster. She told me that she called the pound that morning and was told the dog had been exposed to parvo, and had already been euthanized. She was very upset that the lethal white rescue rep had not been called first. I told her this was not the first time an animal at this pound had been euthanized despite the fact that a rescue group was ready and willing to take it.

That night I received an e-mail from the rescue rep: the dog was alive after all! The kennel tech who reported the dog was already dead was mistaken. The dog had been put on the E-list and moved to the euthanasia bay, but had not been put to death yet. Another kennel tech had called Border Collie rescue, whose name and number were on the kennel card. Border Collie rescue called the lethal white rescue rep, who called the foster, who ran down to the pound and got there just in time: the dog had just been sedated in preparation for euthanasia. The foster was able to bring the dog home and let him sleep off the sedative in safety and comfort.

Working with the county pound is incredibly frustrating. There are times when the staff show compassion to the animals and are very helpful to rescue, but there are far too many times when the staff is careless with the lives (and deaths) entrusted to them. However, it's too easy to blame the overworked and underpaid kennel staff, and fail to look for the underlying causes to all this needless death: the shelter is understaffed and underfunded because the people of this county do not consider homeless animals a high priority. I wish I had the political savvy to figure out a way to shame the county supervisors into funding more solutions to the problem of homeless animals. Sometimes I feel like animal rescue groups are trying to put bandaids on a gaping wound. We save lives and alleviate suffering one animal at a time, rather than finding ways to prevent the root causes of all of the suffering and death.

Babies Having Babies

Kitten season has begun already. Cats can have kittens at any time of the year, but the birthrate peaks in the spring and early summer. My rescue group has already taken in 3 mama cats with tiny babies that were dumped at the pound, and one pregnant cat that gave birth soon after her rescue. One of the mamas with babies came to my house.

My mama cat, Ivy, is only a baby herself. Judging by her teeth, she is barely six months old. Many people don't realize that a female cat can come into heat as young as 4 months. She is a tiny thing, just skin and bones. She is very tame and sweet, so she must have been raised with humans who handled her gently, but they apparently didn't keep her safe in the house, or spay her, or even feed her adequately to support her pregnancy. I suspect her kittens were a total surprise to whomever raised her, and apparently more trouble than they cared to cope with, so they abandoned her and her two-day-old babies at the pound.

Ivy is showing symptoms of an upper respiratory infection. There is a very high risk of her kittens catching it, and unfortunately, kittens this young frequently don't survive the infection. I'm terrified of losing all five of them. But meanwhile, I'm enjoying their sweet presence in my home, and hoping I will be able to watch them grow and find good homes.

This week I also made a trip to a foster's home in a small rural town about an hour's drive away, to deliver a chain-link kennel run to contain the litter of puppies that were born at her house. After we set up the kennel, I spent some time enjoying the puppies and the beautiful day.

This week I faced one of the worst situations a foster of rescued animals can face: a beloved foster dog ran out of second chances. He had some issues with resource guarding, and despite our efforts to rehabilitate him, he finally bit my partner hard enough to draw blood, over a tissue that had fallen on the ground. Most rescue groups, including the one I volunteer with, will not adopt out a dog that bites. My foster dog had become unadoptable. The only ethical, responsible course of action was to euthanize him. I kissed him goodbye, told him I was sorry, and handed him to the vet tech. It was an awful, awful day.

That evening I spent some time at the pound, where a mama cat and her tiny kittens were waiting for their new foster to pick them up. This mama cat is no more than 7 months old, and her babies were only about 2 days old, with little shriveled remnants of their umbilical cords still clinging to their bellies. They were only the size of my palm. I picked all 5 of them up, one at a time, amazed at their pussy-willow softness. Little Mama laid back and smiled and purred, kneading the air with her front paws (I call it "making air biscuits".)

Whenever the sadness over my lost foster dog washes over me, the sight and the feel of those tiny, warm, palm-sized kittens and their smiling mother comes back to me just as strongly.

Pupdate

Raven's 9 puppies are doing great. As they get older, it is apparent that they are not purebred labs. We suspect daddy may have had some chow in him, based on the small ears and purple splotches on tongues. Some of the puppies are also quite fluffy. There's an amazing variation in sizes amongst the pups, too; the 3 black females are all quite small, barely reaching 3 pounds at 6 weeks old, while a couple of the yellow and red pups are 6 pounds or more. One of the little black females, Racquel, broke her left front leg at 4 weeks of age. We have no idea how; the foster walked in one morning and found the pup with her elbow bent at an unnatural angle. The leg was kept in a soft cast for 2 weeks, and is healing well.

Helen's litter of 10 has already been altered, and 8 of them have been adopted; Flo's litter of 10 will be altered soon. Reba's litter of 9 is about 5 weeks old and thriving.

Not all of our puppies have fared as well. I'm sorry to relate that the litter of puppies I wrote about in the post "Boxer Mix Bonanza" contracted distemper; all 12 puppies are gone. Those that did not die in their foster mom's arms were euthanized by the vet. Rest in peace and doGspeed to Vanna, Valkyrie, Van Morrison, Val Kilmer, Vaca, Valeria, Valencia, Vance, Valentine, Valiant, Vanya, and Vagabond. Our litter of 11 pit bull puppies has also tested positive for distemper, and 6 of them are gone. The chances of any of the remaining 5 surviving much longer are slim. Please say a little prayer for Santini, Schnapps, Sadie, Silky, Silver, Skippy, Smoochie, Snoopy, Snowy, Speedy, and Sugar Bunch. Their mothers, Vanessa and Sweetie Pie, are doing well.

More puppies

Raven's puppies have opened their eyes. They look like puppies, now, instead of little woodchucks. They are standing up and toddling around on all fours, and attempting to wrestle with each other. The puppies began to cry a lot, and lost a few ounces; it seems Raven couldn't produce enough milk to support them. Foster mom Melanie tried to bottle feed them, but they didn't take the bottle well, so she put the formula down in a shallow pan. They dove in like pigeons on popcorn and lapped it all up. With regular supplementation to mama's milk, they have stopped crying so much and are back to gaining weight.

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It's been a rough couple of weeks for my rescue group. Several fosters "dumped" their foster dogs, which ended up at a boarding kennel since we are so full; a couple of adopters abandoned their dogs at the pound, and they also ended up at the boarding kennel. We had one dog at the kennel, and suddenly we have 10. Dog adoptions have been dismally slow. With no room in foster care, we haven't been able to pull a single dog from the pound. We get calls from the pound saying they have 22 dogs that need to go to rescue by tomorrow, do we have room? Two days later, another call with 8 dogs needing rescue, do we have room? The answer is always no, and it breaks our hearts.

Puppies!

If I'm counting right, we have 6 mama dogs with a total of 58 puppies in foster care right now. The puppies range in age from 2 weeks to 7 weeks. I don't think my rescue group has ever had this many mamas and nursing puppies at once before. Two of the mother dogs came into foster care hugely pregnant, and had their puppies within a week. The other four were all dumped at the pound with their tiny newborn puppies. All of them would have been euthanized if they hadn't gone to rescue.


The beautiful black lab in the last entry is Raven. She was brought to the pound when her puppies were only one day old. I have no idea who brought her or why she was abandoned. She was thin, but not emaciated like some of the nursing mothers we've rescued, and she was wearing a collar. But I believe she was not well socialized in her previous life, and is very fearful. When I tried to lead her out of the cage at the pound, she was so frightened, she tried to run back in. She only made it four or five steps away from the kennel before she dropped to her belly in terror and refused to move. I had to pick her up and carry her, and she defecated all the way through the receiving area and out to the van. She continued to do so in the van on her way to her foster home; the cage was covered with feces by the time we arrived, and so was she. Thankfully, her 9 tiny puppies were contained in a small pet carrier, and only the bottom of the carrier was soiled.


My step-sister Melanie and her husband Jim, her foster parents, took this turn of events in stride. Their calm, sympathetic reaction to a stressful and smelly situation was a true blessing. We cleaned up the van and washed poor Raven off with the hose out in the driveway. Again, she was too frightened to walk on the leash, and Jim had to pick her up and carry her into the house; she pooped while he carried her, too. It says a lot about this dog's temperament that she never once growled, snapped, or even looked like she might snap throughout this whole ordeal.


I am very fortunate to live in close proximity to Melanie and Jim, and I have been making frequent visits and taking lots of pictures! Raven greets me with enthusiastic tail wags, but if I reach out to pet her too quickly, she cowers and drops to the ground. Despite her fears, she has let numerous friends, relatives, and small children handle her puppies without a grumble. She immediately learned to use the dog door, and only elimiates outside. Not surprisingly, Melanie and Jim are falling in love, and are considering adopting her.