Rescue that isn't

I've been seeing a disturbing trend in animal rescue lately. Private parties, unaffiliated with any particular rescue group, are attempting to rescue animals but failing to fulfill their responsibilities to those animals.


Animal rescue is not easy. I think the reason rescue groups form is so that people can pool their resources and support one another in a time-consuming, emotionally taxing, and often expensive process. Any individual who attempts to rescue an animal without the support and structure of a responsible, reputable group needs to be very knowledgeable, organized, wealthy, cool-headed, energetic, and have a fair amount of free time in order to do it well. Rehabilitating and rehoming at-risk animals can be extremely rewarding, but it can also be utterly heartbreaking, and well-meaning novices are rarely prepared for the challenges it can present.


I am constantly fielding e-mails and phone calls from people who say, "I rescued this dog a few months ago but I can't find him a home, and I just don't have time for him, and I can't afford to get him fixed or vaccinated or wormed, and he's tearing up my back yard, so I can't keep him anymore." It makes me cringe. If you're abandoning an animal, you don't get to claim you rescued it, especially if now you're asking ME to rescue it. My rescue group saves animals that are in kill shelters and are about to be euthanized; we rarely take them from the public. And yet, at least a dozen people per month want me to rescue THEM from the guilt of failing an animal, or the pain of simply not being able to help. I'm not involved in animal rescue to save people from hard choices and feelings. Please, if you're not prepared to take care of a stray, abandoned, or injured animal until you can find it a good permanent home, take the animal to a shelter. That's what they're there for. Yes, that cat or dog may not make it out alive, but that's simply the reality of our world. Many of us are trying to change that reality, but it hasn't happened yet. There are far more animals than there are loving, responsible homes. If the animal really is a stray, its breeder or original owner is to blame for letting it end up in a shelter. You can certainly feel sad for that animal, but you need not feel guilty. However, if you are the breeder or owner of that animal, I hope you do feel guilty, and I have even less interest in relieving your pain and your guilt.


Benign neglect and ending up in a shelter are not the worst things that happen to animals that are "rescued" by inexperienced, unprepared, and irresponsible people. Sometimes, animals are "rescued" from humane euthanasia only to have their suffering prolonged. Some of these animals are rescued again, and their suffering is finally relieved by veterinary care, but not all are so lucky. I just heard a story about a young woman who took in a small dog that had been abandoned in the desert, and found him a home. Her friend decided the home was not safe, since there was a pit bull in the home, so she took the dog to her own home on a temporary basis, and put him in the back yard with her two German Shepherds. 48 hours later, one of the shepherds attacked the smaller dog. For some reason, she did not take the injured dog to the vet. Instead, she called a rescue group for help, who gave her the number of another rescue group, whose representative agreed to take the dog on a temporary basis. The young woman picked up the injured dog and drove for an hour to meet the rescue representative, who was horrified when she saw the condition of the dog: deep puncture wounds to the throat, white gums, signs of shock and blood loss. She took him home and fifteen minutes later, the dog died of its injuries.


I will never understand how this severely injured dog passed through the hands of three supposed animal rescuers and then died without ever seeing a vet. After being dumped in the desert, this dog was shuffled between four different homes before it died a violent and painful death as the direct result of mismanagement and improper care. That is not rescue, and it was not a better fate than being taken to a shelter.

Tidbit's progress

This is a picture of Tidbit. He fell asleep with his foot in his ear. Notice the testicles? (How could you not?) I'm happy to report that he will soon be relieved of them. Tidbit has been struggling with a nasty case of Tick Fever (ehrlichiosis), which took to 4 courses of antibiotics to get under control. His blood work finally looks good, and he can discontinue the antibiotics and get neutered.


Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean he'll be adoptable at that point; we're still working on getting his allergies under control. He hasn't had any skin infections in a while, but his eyes have been watering and itching so much, he's lost some hair all around them and the skin is irritated and even scabby in spots. Benadryl wasn't doing the trick, so now we're trying Claritin, and some eye ointment the vet prescribed.

And once the allergies are under control, there's the issue of his extreme shyness. Quick movements still cause him to startle and bolt like a wild horse. I'm afraid the bustle and busyness of PetSmart will completely overwhelm him. We have a lot of socializing to do! At least the sweet guy has started to solicit affection here at home. For months he was only interested in the other dogs and the cats, but in the past few weeks he has begun to approach me for pets and kisses.

Gypsy the Maggoty Aussie

Gypsy was brought to the vet by her owners with a horrific infection on her back that was infested with maggots. She had been bitten by some of the owners' other dogs in a fight some time earlier, and because the wounds were deep and never treated, infection set in and spread. They told the vet, "She musta gotten the maggots from eating that dead pigeon." I'm not sure what they thought the dead pigeon had to do with it. This was an elderly couple with 6 dogs and very little money; when they discovered how much it would cost to treat Gypsy, they told the vet to euthanize her. The vet asked them to sign her over to him instead, and called rescue to help him out. She was much too sweet and beautiful to let the maggots have her.


The pictures above are after three weeks at the vet hospital and two surgical procedures to clean and close the wounds. The pink skin is all new skin that has grown back where the maggots had eaten it away. The open wounds are much smaller than when I first saw her a week earlier; then, they were oozing pus and surrounded by dead tissue, which is why she needed a second round under anesthesia.

In a few more days she will go to a foster home where the gentleman has 3 other Aussies, all of whom are his pride and joy. He doesn't go on vacation unless they can go with him. As long as she gets along with his other dogs, he will adopt her once she is spayed. Hopefully she will never suffer from neglect and poverty again.

Diamond and Tidbit

When Diamond first came to live at my house, I noticed that she had diarrhea. As the days passed, the diarrhea did not clear up, and she began to show signs of an upper respiratory infection. Her appetite waned, and she began to lose weight. One morning she was lethargic and cold to the touch. I prepared a hot pack to nestle her against and took her to the vet, fearing she might not survive the day.

Her blood sugar was low and she was dehydrated, but after 24 hours at the vet she had perked up and was ready to come home. With antibiotics and a probiotic supplement, her eyes cleared up and her stool became firm within a few days. Her appetite and energy level returned to normal. Thank goodness!

Tidbit was originally rescued by a local pure-breed rescue group when they went to a home to rescue a dog of their breed. The volunteer saw Tidbit, a mutt with no sign of the rescue's breed in his mix, and felt she couldn't leave without him. He was emaciated, covered in ticks, pus was oozing from his ears, and his nose was crusted with snot. His owner said he had allergies; the volunteer knew it was more than that, and that he would die if he stayed in that home. She called the breed rescue's director and received permission to take the dog out of the home and bring him directly to the vet hospital for diagnosis and treatment, even though they had no foster home for him.

The director of this pure-breed rescue group called other rescue groups asking for help with Tidbit. At first, my group offered to assist with his medical bills, but told her that our foster homes were full. The breed rescue rep supposedly found him a foster after about a week, but the foster brought him back to the vet hospital after 24 hours, saying, "He tried to climb my fence, he chewed my furniture, and he peed on my floor." Two weeks later, my group received a call from the vet hospital: the rescue group who had saved his life had given up on finding him a foster home, and no longer wished to pay for his boarding, so they had asked the vet hospital to euthanize him.

The vet who had been treating Tidbit was very unhappy with this turn of events. When he first came to the vet hospital, Tidbit was so frightened and sick, he wouldn't eat for several days; but with kindness and medication for his advanced case of tick fever (erlichiosis) and severe ear infection, he slowly began to gain weight and return to health. He became a favorite of the vet techs. One of my rescue group's volunteers visited him there, and melted when she saw his sad, haunted eyes; she described him as a "broken soul". There was no way we could let him die. So, I brought him home.

Sure enough, he tried to climb my fence at first; he lifted his leg in my house; he pulled the bottom of my bedroom curtains and the strap of a carrying case into his crate and chewed them. So, we don't let him outside without supervision; he quickly stopped trying to climb the fence. After a couple of days and a few gentle corrections, he quit lifting his leg in my house. OK, so he chewed on my sandals yesterday, but he is learning to go into his crate and he loves to play with my dog Darby, when he's not snoozing on the couch. So in my book, he's a very good boy.

Tidbit's biggest challenge will be overcoming his fear of being hit. I have had dozens of foster parents and adopters of shy, cringy dogs tell me, "I think this dog was abused", and I have always told them, "Not necessarily. It's possible the dog was just poorly socialized, and/or it's part of the dog's inborn temperament." However, I'm pretty sure Tidbit was abused. He doesn't just cringe, he braces himself for the blow. It's heartbreaking. But in spite of his fear and his past full of neglect and abuse, he has never growled or snapped. I think the chances are good that his broken soul will heal.

Update on the "Cutest Puppy in the World": Wendell, A.K.A. Duke, is officially NOT a Chihuahua mix! At 4 months old he weighed a whopping 20 pounds, which means he may top out at close to 40 pounds when he's all grown up. Gone is the big round head and bulging eyes; they were artifacts of developmental delay, not breed type, and developmentally he is all caught up. He is full of mischief, and likes to chase the cats; when he catches them, he sits on them. He's in the first picture above. The other pictures are 4 of my 5 current foster kittens.

Update on Mr. Big: The gorgeous German Shepherd I pulled from the pound and sent up to German Shepherd Rescue completed his heartworm treatment successfully, and is doing extremely well. He is now full of energy and very active. He will soon be finished with his medication for tick fever as well. Last I heard, he was heading for a foster-to-adopt home for a two week trial period. Let's hope he's in his forever home now!

Update on Courage the Stumpy Rump kitten: she will be altered this week and will go up for adoption next weekend. Her tail stump is completely healed. She is the terror of her litter, always pouncing on her mother and her 7 brothers and sisters.

Update on Andie the semi-feral Chihuahua: Andie is still at my house and has made a lot of progress. It took three months and suddenly she no longer cringed away from our hands; suddenly, we could pet her on top of her head or on her back and she wouldn't run away. A week later, we discovered we could bend over and pick her up with no fuss. A few days ago, she climbed into my lap of her own accord for the very first time. She has discovered the joys of being scratched behind the ears! She has learned to walk on a leash, and has made a few visits to the dog park; she visited PetSmart once but it was too much for her, so we are still working up to that final test before she becomes adoptable.

My current crop of kitten fosters is too adorable for words. I took three tiny 4-week old babies from the pound, thinking they were old enough to "mush" (eat a mush of canned kitten food and kitten formula from a bowl), but they were completely unable to grasp the concept. They would climb into the bowl and frantically try to suckle on the edge. No matter how many times I gently pushed their noses into the mush or tried to get them to lick it off my finger, they just couldn't figure it out! I ended up feeding them with a large syringe for two weeks before I could finally wean them. For the first week, I fed them 4 times a day, which was pretty exhausting. But they are fat and healthy and happy little kittens, and I'm proud of them! Chickie is a gorgeous torti-tabby with white, and has the biggest purr; she loves to visit with my dogs and has no fear of them. Chili Bean is black and white, and the most independent and adventurous; unlike her sister, she likes to arch her back and puff out her tail at the dogs and won't go near them. Chief is a gray tabby with white, and he is a chunky little monkey who loves to cuddle.

Then, last weekend, a woman came into PetSmart with a tiny little kitten named Sweet Pea that she had found the previous day on the side of the road, moments from becoming road kill. She is a torti tabby, like Chickie, but very different-looking; she is mostly a very dark tabby with fine striping, with one large patch of orange on her head. She is a little hellion; she likes to run around and play-fight a lot more than her big foster brothers and sisters did when they were her age. At only 5 weeks old, she is already mushing happily.

Yesterday, I took in yet another 4 week old kitten, named Diamond. She was an orphan brought to the spay/neuter clinic we use when she was just 3 weeks old. Her foster mama decided she was too lonely on her own, so we put her with Sweet Pea so they cold both have company. She is even more active and outgoing than Sweet Pea, and at 4 weeks old actually prefers to eat from a bowl. She is a tortoise shell, very dark with one large orange diamond-shaped spot right in the middle of her forehead, and white feet.

Stumpy Rump

Courage the kitten's broken tail fell off. We were very lucky that the wound was already well scabbed over with no bone exposed, so she will probably not need surgery. She will just look like a little Manx once the wound heals.

The puppy is Wookie, who is being fostered in the same home as Courage. Foster mom Rita has a soft spot for "special" animals, and it doesn't get much more special than Wookie! I think he has the strangest face I've ever seen on a puppy. He is blind in one eye and has toes that sometimes curl under on the front foot on the same side as the eye; Rita says she fostered a kitten once with the exact same issues, and the vet said it was a developmental deformity. Wookie is also special because he is a cool dude. He has an easy-going, laid back, happy temperament, and lets Rita's little granddaughters hug him like a teddy bear.

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.