Wow, it's been a long time since I've been here. Since the last time I was here, I've pulled and found a home for one foster dog (probably I'll do a post about her, because she is AWESOME), adopted and returned a tripod pittie mix (which was devastating for me), adopted a snack dog (aka: a CHIHUAHUA, of all things...), and I've attempted to start a rehoming program through the rescue.
Writing is a pretty sporadic thing for me. Lately I've come up with a couple of things to say, so I'll be working on those and then I'll go dark again until the next wave of inspiration hits me.
Stay tuned...
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Brandy
I've owned a few dogs in my life. Each one was unique. Each had their own personality and quirks. Some have been easy, a couple have been hard, but one thing that was the same about all of them was that I accepted the dogs I had, and didn't try to turn them into dogs they weren't. All, except one.
Brandy was a rottie that was purchased from a breeder (before I was heavy into rescue) at three months old. She was the runt of her litter. She was super cute and we adored her, but she was riddled with problems. She was born without hip sockets, so she was constantly in pain. We didn't realize this until she was about seven months old. At that young age she had a total hip replacement. She needed them both replaced, but the surgeon would only do one at a time.
After she healed from her first surgery, she tore her ACL in the opposite leg. So, instead of having her second hip surgery, she had a TPLO. By the time she was a year old, she had spent about a quarter of her life confined to a crate, because the nature of her surgeries required it.
Before she was able to have her second total hip replacement, it was evident that her temperament was going downhill. She started fighting with Jezebel. Serious fights that landed me in the hospital twice for stitches, and Jezzy at the vet more than once to treat pucntures, and once to sew up a nasty gash in her flank. She was fine with the male dogs, but she wanted nothing but death for Jezzy. We lived a crate and rotate lifestyle for months. I was determined to figure out how to "fix" this problem. And then she started biting people.
I believe that it's never acceptable for a dog to bite a person, unless that dog is fighting for its life, or defending a member of his family. This dog was biting strangers with no warning. One second she'd be sitting or standing next to them, the next she was sinking her teeth into an arm. I knew this was bad. Really, really bad, and I was ready to have her put to sleep after the last 10 day quarentine was up. Unfortunately, the man I lived with at the time, didn't believe in euthanizing dogs for any reason except terminal illness, and even then, he didn't always think it was our job to do it. So, instead of euthanizing her, I hired a trainer.
I loved the trainer. I had interviewd three, and she and I clicked the moment we sat down to talk about Brandy. She said to me "There are very few dogs that can't be fixed." (I now consider those words to be a red flag, because there are many behaviors that can't be trained away, only managed.) She met Brandy, we decided on a training schedule, and got started right away.
Brandy LOVED training. She was smart as a whip and was eager to please me. But, no matter how obedient she was when we were working, she would often flip on a dime and go from happy working puppy to snarling killer if a strange person or animal caught her eye. She lost her damn mind, and there was no getting her attention when she was in this state. Still, we continued working.
One day, when the weather was beautiful, instead of crate and rotate, I did inside/outside rotation. Jezzy was outside, Brandy was inside with me. Everything was fine until Brandy caught sight of Jezzy playing with our lab, Brutus, out in the yard. She immediately became her ferocious self, and then she did something I never thought she'd do. She redirected from Jezebel to me. She sunk all of her teeth, her entire mouthful, into my leg, and did damage so severe that my tendons were exposed.
I spent 6 hours in the ER with the on call doctor, an orthopedic surgeon, a plastic surgeon, and two techs. Ironically, it was the plastic surgeon who agreed to treat me without surgery. There was some concern that I had a nicked artery, since the bleeding wouldn't stop. Once it finally did, as I signed my discharge papers and stood up to leave, it started up again. The techs and I looked down at the table to see that I had soaked through four inches of bandage material and left a pool of blood on the table. They took away my papers and we had to start over.
It was bad. It was so bad that it took six months to heal completely.
At that point I made an executive decision. Brandy was going to be put to sleep. I was extremely lucky my daughters were outside playing when this happened. I was thankful that it was me who suffered the damage and not one of them. It was an easy decision to make and follow through with after all I had been through, but I still stayed with her during the process, and I still cried buckets, even though I hobbled in there on crutches, on a ton of pain meds because of the injuries she inflicted on me. It wasn't her fault she was like this. She had some serious wiring issues in her brain.
When I told the trainer what had happened she said "I know I told you there are very few dogs that can't be fixed. I'm sorry that she's one of them."
I learned a very important lesson from that dog: Temperament trumps training. Always. You cannot train away aggressive behavior. You can attempt to manage it, which I did successfully with Chuck (another rottie), but you can never trust a dog not to revert back to aggressive behavior no matter how much training you put into them.
It's because of Brandy that I have very strict criteria that I use to judge a dog before I allow it into my house, whether it be a foster or one I'm choosing to adopt. I read a lot into their body language and behaviors I observe when they interact with people and other dogs. I'm a harsh judge of character and I will pass up dogs that many rescue people would choose to pull out of a shelter and work with. And I go with my gut. Even if I don't observe any alarming behavior, if I get a weird vibe from a dog, I won't work with it.
The reason I'm telling this story is because, now that Jezzy is gone, I'm searching for a foster dog. I'm not ready to adopt another dog yet, but I feel a need to have another dog in the house. Admiral needs a companion, and I feel like giving a homeless dog a temporary place to live until he or she finds a new family is a wonderful way to honor Jezebel.
I'm not looking forward to the picking process though. In a shelter environment, it's hard to see what a dog's true temperament is. Many hyper dogs in the shelter go into a home and become nice, mellow dogs. Sometimes dogs who are shut down in a shelter turn out to be much higher energy with personality quirks that aren't known until they get into a home. I don't want to pick the wrong dog. I don't want to make a mistake that leaves me with a dog I didn't mean to choose, while a perfectly even tempered dog has to stay in the shelter and probably won't make it out. The shelter we're going to can't adopt pit bulls to the public because they're illegal.
It's a lot of pressure to be under, even if that pressure comes from my own standards. Dogs like Brandy aren't all that common, but they're out there. All I can do is meet some dogs, and if I find one I think fits the bill, hope for the best.
Brandy was a rottie that was purchased from a breeder (before I was heavy into rescue) at three months old. She was the runt of her litter. She was super cute and we adored her, but she was riddled with problems. She was born without hip sockets, so she was constantly in pain. We didn't realize this until she was about seven months old. At that young age she had a total hip replacement. She needed them both replaced, but the surgeon would only do one at a time.
After she healed from her first surgery, she tore her ACL in the opposite leg. So, instead of having her second hip surgery, she had a TPLO. By the time she was a year old, she had spent about a quarter of her life confined to a crate, because the nature of her surgeries required it.
Before she was able to have her second total hip replacement, it was evident that her temperament was going downhill. She started fighting with Jezebel. Serious fights that landed me in the hospital twice for stitches, and Jezzy at the vet more than once to treat pucntures, and once to sew up a nasty gash in her flank. She was fine with the male dogs, but she wanted nothing but death for Jezzy. We lived a crate and rotate lifestyle for months. I was determined to figure out how to "fix" this problem. And then she started biting people.
I believe that it's never acceptable for a dog to bite a person, unless that dog is fighting for its life, or defending a member of his family. This dog was biting strangers with no warning. One second she'd be sitting or standing next to them, the next she was sinking her teeth into an arm. I knew this was bad. Really, really bad, and I was ready to have her put to sleep after the last 10 day quarentine was up. Unfortunately, the man I lived with at the time, didn't believe in euthanizing dogs for any reason except terminal illness, and even then, he didn't always think it was our job to do it. So, instead of euthanizing her, I hired a trainer.
I loved the trainer. I had interviewd three, and she and I clicked the moment we sat down to talk about Brandy. She said to me "There are very few dogs that can't be fixed." (I now consider those words to be a red flag, because there are many behaviors that can't be trained away, only managed.) She met Brandy, we decided on a training schedule, and got started right away.
Brandy LOVED training. She was smart as a whip and was eager to please me. But, no matter how obedient she was when we were working, she would often flip on a dime and go from happy working puppy to snarling killer if a strange person or animal caught her eye. She lost her damn mind, and there was no getting her attention when she was in this state. Still, we continued working.
One day, when the weather was beautiful, instead of crate and rotate, I did inside/outside rotation. Jezzy was outside, Brandy was inside with me. Everything was fine until Brandy caught sight of Jezzy playing with our lab, Brutus, out in the yard. She immediately became her ferocious self, and then she did something I never thought she'd do. She redirected from Jezebel to me. She sunk all of her teeth, her entire mouthful, into my leg, and did damage so severe that my tendons were exposed.
I spent 6 hours in the ER with the on call doctor, an orthopedic surgeon, a plastic surgeon, and two techs. Ironically, it was the plastic surgeon who agreed to treat me without surgery. There was some concern that I had a nicked artery, since the bleeding wouldn't stop. Once it finally did, as I signed my discharge papers and stood up to leave, it started up again. The techs and I looked down at the table to see that I had soaked through four inches of bandage material and left a pool of blood on the table. They took away my papers and we had to start over.
It was bad. It was so bad that it took six months to heal completely.
At that point I made an executive decision. Brandy was going to be put to sleep. I was extremely lucky my daughters were outside playing when this happened. I was thankful that it was me who suffered the damage and not one of them. It was an easy decision to make and follow through with after all I had been through, but I still stayed with her during the process, and I still cried buckets, even though I hobbled in there on crutches, on a ton of pain meds because of the injuries she inflicted on me. It wasn't her fault she was like this. She had some serious wiring issues in her brain.
When I told the trainer what had happened she said "I know I told you there are very few dogs that can't be fixed. I'm sorry that she's one of them."
I learned a very important lesson from that dog: Temperament trumps training. Always. You cannot train away aggressive behavior. You can attempt to manage it, which I did successfully with Chuck (another rottie), but you can never trust a dog not to revert back to aggressive behavior no matter how much training you put into them.
It's because of Brandy that I have very strict criteria that I use to judge a dog before I allow it into my house, whether it be a foster or one I'm choosing to adopt. I read a lot into their body language and behaviors I observe when they interact with people and other dogs. I'm a harsh judge of character and I will pass up dogs that many rescue people would choose to pull out of a shelter and work with. And I go with my gut. Even if I don't observe any alarming behavior, if I get a weird vibe from a dog, I won't work with it.
The reason I'm telling this story is because, now that Jezzy is gone, I'm searching for a foster dog. I'm not ready to adopt another dog yet, but I feel a need to have another dog in the house. Admiral needs a companion, and I feel like giving a homeless dog a temporary place to live until he or she finds a new family is a wonderful way to honor Jezebel.
I'm not looking forward to the picking process though. In a shelter environment, it's hard to see what a dog's true temperament is. Many hyper dogs in the shelter go into a home and become nice, mellow dogs. Sometimes dogs who are shut down in a shelter turn out to be much higher energy with personality quirks that aren't known until they get into a home. I don't want to pick the wrong dog. I don't want to make a mistake that leaves me with a dog I didn't mean to choose, while a perfectly even tempered dog has to stay in the shelter and probably won't make it out. The shelter we're going to can't adopt pit bulls to the public because they're illegal.
It's a lot of pressure to be under, even if that pressure comes from my own standards. Dogs like Brandy aren't all that common, but they're out there. All I can do is meet some dogs, and if I find one I think fits the bill, hope for the best.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
My Letter to the Prince George's County Board of Supervisors
On August 23 there is going to be a town hall meeting to discuss the possible repeal of the pit bull ban in PG County, MD. This is the letter I wrote to the Board of Supervisors:
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Prince George’s County Board of Supervisors,
My name is Kristie Wood, and I volunteer with an advocacy group called Ambassador Pit Bull Alliance. I am writing to you today to ask that you repeal the ban on pit bulls, and rely on already existing legislation to keep the residents of this county safe from dangerous dogs.
Sec. 3-136. of the Prince George’s County Code states:
“Vicious animals.
(a) Any dog or other animal which without provocation has attacked, bitten, or injured any human being, other animal or livestock, or which has a known propensity to attack or bite human beings or animals is defined to be a vicious animal for the purpose of this Subtitle.”
This code, in and of itself, is more than sufficient to keep the public safe from vicious dogs. Why does there need to be a separate ban for one type of dog?
All dogs are individuals. Pit bull type dogs are living, breathing beings with the capacity to love, serve, and obey. They are extremely intelligent and loyal. They serve people in a variety of ways, including, but not limited to:
· service animals for physically impaired individuals
· allergen and seizure alert
· service animals for autism
· therapy dogs for hospitalized and hospice patients
· therapy dogs for senior assisted living communities
· therapy dogs for reading programs geared to young children
· therapy dogs deployed during times of crisis to serve as comfort to citizens
Not only do pit bull type dogs serve individual people; they serve our cities, counties, and our country. They are:
· drug detection dogs
· bomb sniffing dogs
· search and rescue dogs
· police dogs
· military dogs
These dogs, as a rule, are kind hearted and people friendly. Millions of them live peacefully with their families without ever causing so much as a blip on the radar. In contrast, the few that do cause harm to people are over-reported hundreds of times on different news and social media platforms so it seems that the “problem” with pit bulls is bigger than it actually is. They are no more dangerous than any other breed of dog. There isn’t a single breed of dog out there that has never caused harm to a person or other animal. Anything that has teeth can bite/maul/maim, and the PG County Code provides language to protect the public from all of them without the need for singling out any specific breed/type of dog.
Part of what is distressing about the pit bull ban is that there is no way to visually identify whether a dog is a pit bull, or another type of dog entirely. How many dogs, who are innocent of any wrong doing, AND innocent of actually being a pit bull, have lost their lives because someone guessed wrong when trying to identify their breed? There is a game online called “Find the Pit Bull” On it are pictures of many different dogs, all resembling each other, but only one is an American Pit Bull Terrier. I have personally failed that test, and I live and breathe pit bulls. Play it yourself and see how you score.
In 2010, Science Daily reported that:
"We've found that only six or seven locations in the dog genome are necessary to explain about 80 percent of the differences in height and weight among dog breeds," said Carlos Bustamante, PhD, professor of genetics at Stanford. "In humans these are controlled by hundreds if not thousands of variants."
What does this mean? It means that physical traits are not enough to determine the breed of ANY individual dog. When shelter staff and animal rescue workers attempt to identify a dog’s breed, they are wrong over 80% of the time!
I know you have been bombarded with facts and statistics from other people and groups explaining why the Pit Bull Ban should be lifted. I have not mentioned them in this letter to you. What I’m doing instead is asking that you meet some Pit Bulls. See some of the wonderful dogs in the shelter that have done nothing wrong, but are sentenced to die anyway, just because they were unlucky enough to be born looking like a pit bull. I’m inviting you to meet my dog, who despite having been hit by a car, forced to live for months with a broken leg, survived a raging bone infection, spent time in a municipal shelter of another Maryland county, and ultimately lost his leg six months after the fact, is a gentle, loving soul. He does not hold what people have done to him against anyone. We can all learn a thing or two from him. If he is still accepting of people after what he’s been through at their hands, why can't we, as a higher species, do the same for his kind?
In closing I’d like to leave you with this thought:
“It is much more likely that a pit bull will be harmed by a human than the other way around.”
It’s the truth, and I hope these words strike a chord for you. I hope they inspire you to do the right thing.
Sincerely,
Pit Bull Mom
Saturday, August 15, 2015
A Hard Week
It's been exactly one week since I lost Jezebel. It's been pretty miserable. I was completely non-functional for the first four days. I couldn't bring myself to go back to work on Monday, so I didn't go. I woke up with a headache anyway, so I was not in any shape to try. Tuesday-Thursday I was just barely functioning. I got some work done, but had a hard time concentrating. I've had a hard time sleeping, dreaming weird things, tossing and turning, not able to do it without her. Sleep usually comes easy for me, so that is a frustration all its own. Today was a decent day. Someone told me I was actually perky (which I don't think I am on most days, so I'd say that was a pretty big improvement), but once I got home, my mood came crashing down.
The house is way too quiet. Admiral doesn't make hardly any noise. He has also been spending a lot of time by himself, laying on my bed, like she used to. He misses her, even though they weren't bff's. I don't think he knows what to do now that he doesn't have to compete for attention. The two of them used to always try to be the one sitting beside me on the couch. I got trampled lots of times while the two of them jockied for position. They both always got equal quality time, it was just a matter of who got theirs first.
I've been throwing myself into my volunteer stuff. I came up with a rehoming program for the pit bull group I volunteer with. Writing web copy, answering emails, creating brochures...all that has kept me busy. And for a little while my heart doesn't hurt because it's busy figuring out how to help other people and other dogs. But it always comes back to the aching emptiness at the end of the day.
I spoke to the volunteer coordinator at the shelter today and told her I'd like to come back and walk some dogs. She said I could and that she'll send me an email. I'm happy that I'm welcome back after being gone for so long. And I'm glad I'll be able to interact with the animals, take classes, and talk with people who want to adopt. It's what I love to do, and it'll help me get past this.
I don't know how long it's going to take before I'm back to my normal self (if I can ever be considered normal). I've always known that when the time came when she was no longer with me it would be hard. I've lost pets before, and it always hurts, but being without her...well, that was something I couldn't even comprehend, though I knew it would happen some day. I expected it would be bad, and in some ways I think I'm doing better than I thought I would. In other ways, it's worse than I could have ever anticipated.
I'm on the lookout now for a foster dog. I think a foster will be a good distraction, one that doesn't stop when I shut down my computer or pack up event equipment. I think it'll be good for Admiral too. Luckily, he gets along with every dog he meets, so picking one won't be difficult like it was when I was scoping out fosters after Chuck died. What makes it hard is that I can only pick one, and I've seen a handful that I'd like to take in.
I'm going to bed now, and I'm hoping sleep will find me quickly. Restful sleep, not the fitful kind I've had to make do with since last Friday. When I wake up, it will be a good day, because Admiral and I have an event to attend and Sunday there's a fund raiser to look forward to. I'm taking it one day at a time, but also planning ahead with things to enjoy. Like milestones. I'll keep moving from one thing to the next until I get my rhythm back.
The house is way too quiet. Admiral doesn't make hardly any noise. He has also been spending a lot of time by himself, laying on my bed, like she used to. He misses her, even though they weren't bff's. I don't think he knows what to do now that he doesn't have to compete for attention. The two of them used to always try to be the one sitting beside me on the couch. I got trampled lots of times while the two of them jockied for position. They both always got equal quality time, it was just a matter of who got theirs first.
I've been throwing myself into my volunteer stuff. I came up with a rehoming program for the pit bull group I volunteer with. Writing web copy, answering emails, creating brochures...all that has kept me busy. And for a little while my heart doesn't hurt because it's busy figuring out how to help other people and other dogs. But it always comes back to the aching emptiness at the end of the day.
I spoke to the volunteer coordinator at the shelter today and told her I'd like to come back and walk some dogs. She said I could and that she'll send me an email. I'm happy that I'm welcome back after being gone for so long. And I'm glad I'll be able to interact with the animals, take classes, and talk with people who want to adopt. It's what I love to do, and it'll help me get past this.
I don't know how long it's going to take before I'm back to my normal self (if I can ever be considered normal). I've always known that when the time came when she was no longer with me it would be hard. I've lost pets before, and it always hurts, but being without her...well, that was something I couldn't even comprehend, though I knew it would happen some day. I expected it would be bad, and in some ways I think I'm doing better than I thought I would. In other ways, it's worse than I could have ever anticipated.
I'm on the lookout now for a foster dog. I think a foster will be a good distraction, one that doesn't stop when I shut down my computer or pack up event equipment. I think it'll be good for Admiral too. Luckily, he gets along with every dog he meets, so picking one won't be difficult like it was when I was scoping out fosters after Chuck died. What makes it hard is that I can only pick one, and I've seen a handful that I'd like to take in.
I'm going to bed now, and I'm hoping sleep will find me quickly. Restful sleep, not the fitful kind I've had to make do with since last Friday. When I wake up, it will be a good day, because Admiral and I have an event to attend and Sunday there's a fund raiser to look forward to. I'm taking it one day at a time, but also planning ahead with things to enjoy. Like milestones. I'll keep moving from one thing to the next until I get my rhythm back.
Friday, August 7, 2015
The Loss of My Soul Dog
I knew the moment I first saw her that we were meant to belong to each other. We were both at the right place, at the right time, with the right people to make it happen. I will be forever grateful to Lost Dog and Cat Rescue Foundation for accepting her as an owner surrender, something they rarely did, and for letting me be her foster mom until I ultimately adopted her.
She was the most loyal companion I have ever known. She saw me through breakups and a year of life with a crazy roommate. If I didn't feel well, she stayed by my side, whether I was fighting the sniffles or a multi-day migraine. She kept vigil while I recovered from surgery. She licked my tears on the rare occasion that I cried, including today, when I broke down and sobbed for hours before we went to the vet. She slept with me every night, curled up against the small of my back. Our routine was that she would jump on the bed before I got in, and would wait for me to lay down before she settled down herself. Over the last couple of weeks, though, she didn't jump on the bed first. She started the night down on the floor. I guess making the jump was hard for her. At some point in the night, though, she managed to take her place, and I would wake up with her next to me, even though I had to fall asleep on my own.
I owe a lot to Jezebel. Because of her, I found my life's purpose. She is the reason I went from volunteering with an all breed rescue to a pit bull specific one. She is the reason I've done so much research and advocate for pit bull type dogs. She is the reason that I took pit bull fosters when we lost Chuck, though she demanded a high level of respect from them, and was not easy on them at all. Most importantly, she's the reason that Admiral is here. She chose him for us. He was the one foster dog that she tolerated in a way she never did any of the others. And because she did, I will get through this, because Admiral will step up and fill the hole she left behind.
I would give anything to have her here with me right now, but not at her expense. I could have pursued chemo and radiation in an attempt to fight her cancer, but I know that would have only bought us a couple more months. I probably could have talked to the vet about amputating the leg that her cancer was living in, but putting her through that procedure would have been selfish of me. The surgery to remove her first tumor was really hard on her. After experiencing the pain Admiral went through, I couldn't justify making her go through that just so she could continue to be here for me. I had to do what was best for her, even though it was the worst thing for me.
I know Jezebel will guide me in my mission to help pit bulls in need of help finding new families. She will send me the ones that need me the most, and I will do my best to make sure they find the people they're meant to be with.
Jezzy changed my life. I don't know who I would be today if I hadn't adopted her 10 years ago. She is, and will forever be, my original soul dog.
I love you, puppy girl. I miss you tons and you will be the first one I look for when it's my turn to cross the bridge into Heaven.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
My Puppy Girl
Jezebel's cancer is back.
My heart wrenches every time I say or write that sentence. I literally feel a tug of sorrow every time I think about it. I'm already grieving her and she's not even gone yet.
A few months ago, the cancer that was removed from her was one large mass. It was about the size of a tangerine. The anchors of that tumor wrapped themselves tight around whatever it was they were attached to, and they took a while to scrape out of her. The body of it was tightly encapsulated, but those tentacles...those evil, vile, disgusting finger-like projections that weave between muscle, tendons, and nerves...they hung on for dear life. They regrouped, worked fast and hard, and they're fighting back with a vengeance. They're determined to win. They're laughing at me and my feeble attempt at ridding my dog of their existence, and they ARE winning.
She went from having empty space that kept filling up with liquid right after her surgery to this. They're spreading wider and they're growing more rapidly. I can actually see a difference in size between what they look like today and what I saw a little less than two weeks ago. Jezzy is acting fine, but when I look at her face, I see something so subtle that I probably wouldn't see it if I wasn't so in-tune with her. I'd miss it because that's how animals are. They don't act sick until it's either nearly, or already, too late. I don't know if she doesn't feel well, or if she's hurting, or if it's something else entirely, but there appears to be a sadness that shows through when she's not actively seeking or giving attention. She masks it well when we're engaging, but I see it when she's laying on her bed, or on the other end of the couch. Or like right now, when she's laying between my feet on the floor.
Her birthday is on September 5. She'll be 11 years old. My goal is for her to make it to her birthday. I'm not one who does the whole doggy birthday celebration (shockingly), but when that day comes and she's still with me, I will feed her hamburgers for both meals, let her eat real cake and ice cream, and I'll let her hang out in the sun all day long.
She got her pictures taken last week by Jeanne Taylor Photography. Jeanne's soul dog, Bandit, passed away last year. In his honor, she now offers photo sessions for free to families who have terminally ill pets. I'm anxious to see the images Jeanne was able to capture of Jezebel. Jeanne shared one on her Facebook page, and it took my breath away. Anyone looking at that picture can see the bond Jezzy and I share.
Thank God I have Admiral. I love him every bit as much as I love Jezebel, but as every parent knows, the love you have for each of your children is different. It's the same way with pets. He's the one I nursed back to health and bonded with during that process. She's the one who has seen me through some dark times and gave me confort the only way a soul dog could. I'm sure Admiral would have too, but we hadn't met yet. I'm equally sure that when Jezebel leaves me, he will see me through the loss. He will fill her paw prints and take care of his mom.
This is hard. Really hard. It's so hard that I know people who refuse to get a dog because they lost one in the past and can't take pain like that again. To me, the pain is worth it. It proves that what I have with her is special. It validates the time and the love we share. There will never be another Jezebel. There will never be another Admiral. But there will be more dogs who are equally special in their own way.
My heart wrenches every time I say or write that sentence. I literally feel a tug of sorrow every time I think about it. I'm already grieving her and she's not even gone yet.
A few months ago, the cancer that was removed from her was one large mass. It was about the size of a tangerine. The anchors of that tumor wrapped themselves tight around whatever it was they were attached to, and they took a while to scrape out of her. The body of it was tightly encapsulated, but those tentacles...those evil, vile, disgusting finger-like projections that weave between muscle, tendons, and nerves...they hung on for dear life. They regrouped, worked fast and hard, and they're fighting back with a vengeance. They're determined to win. They're laughing at me and my feeble attempt at ridding my dog of their existence, and they ARE winning.
 |
| The original. 2/12/15 |
She went from having empty space that kept filling up with liquid right after her surgery to this. They're spreading wider and they're growing more rapidly. I can actually see a difference in size between what they look like today and what I saw a little less than two weeks ago. Jezzy is acting fine, but when I look at her face, I see something so subtle that I probably wouldn't see it if I wasn't so in-tune with her. I'd miss it because that's how animals are. They don't act sick until it's either nearly, or already, too late. I don't know if she doesn't feel well, or if she's hurting, or if it's something else entirely, but there appears to be a sadness that shows through when she's not actively seeking or giving attention. She masks it well when we're engaging, but I see it when she's laying on her bed, or on the other end of the couch. Or like right now, when she's laying between my feet on the floor.
Her birthday is on September 5. She'll be 11 years old. My goal is for her to make it to her birthday. I'm not one who does the whole doggy birthday celebration (shockingly), but when that day comes and she's still with me, I will feed her hamburgers for both meals, let her eat real cake and ice cream, and I'll let her hang out in the sun all day long.
She got her pictures taken last week by Jeanne Taylor Photography. Jeanne's soul dog, Bandit, passed away last year. In his honor, she now offers photo sessions for free to families who have terminally ill pets. I'm anxious to see the images Jeanne was able to capture of Jezebel. Jeanne shared one on her Facebook page, and it took my breath away. Anyone looking at that picture can see the bond Jezzy and I share.
Thank God I have Admiral. I love him every bit as much as I love Jezebel, but as every parent knows, the love you have for each of your children is different. It's the same way with pets. He's the one I nursed back to health and bonded with during that process. She's the one who has seen me through some dark times and gave me confort the only way a soul dog could. I'm sure Admiral would have too, but we hadn't met yet. I'm equally sure that when Jezebel leaves me, he will see me through the loss. He will fill her paw prints and take care of his mom.
This is hard. Really hard. It's so hard that I know people who refuse to get a dog because they lost one in the past and can't take pain like that again. To me, the pain is worth it. It proves that what I have with her is special. It validates the time and the love we share. There will never be another Jezebel. There will never be another Admiral. But there will be more dogs who are equally special in their own way.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Big Dreams
I've been daydreaming a lot lately about different ways I can make a difference for troubled pit bull owners and their dogs. I see needs within my community, and I want to be able to offer help and support. I've been coming up with ideas and ways to execute them. Formulating the processes is pretty easy for me. I've been going over and over them in my head. I haven't put anything down on paper, yet. I guess that's the point of this post. Where I run into uncertainty is the business side of things. Legal issues, accounting responsibilities, and how to promote programs.
Promoting is hard. I'm learning that with Admiral's petition, his web page, and his Facebook page. Even this blog is seen by very few people. How do other people do it? How do they gain an audience? How do they find supporters? Where do they start? I can have the best intentions in the world, but if I don't have visibility in the rescue community, what's the point of trying?
Then there's 501 status. That's not an easy thing to get. Especially when you don't know your way around the IRS, or even remotely understand anything about nonprofit accounting. And really, I have no desire to delve into that jungle by myself.
And there's networking. I. Suck. At networking. I'm not a people person. I don't reach out and ask for help easily. Getting programs off the ground doesn't happen without input from experienced people. It doesn't happen without mentors. It won't happen if I work alone.
And finally, there's start up costs. I just do not have any disposable income to devote to a project like this. Websites cost money. Printed materials cost money. Getting a professional logo costs money. Trademarking costs money. And money is one thing I just do not have, nor will I in the foreseeable future. Maybe in about three years, but not right now.
Here are just a few of things I want to do:
- Rehoming assistance
- Provide emergency vet care funding
- Refer people to low cost spay/neuter and vaccination clinics
- Heartworm clinics
- Advocate for fair housing and insurance coverage for owners of all dogs
- Create a membership club of sorts made up of like minded people who have friendly, well behaved dogs that can spread the message that there are a lot of dogs out there who had rough starts in life, but never lost their good temperaments.
I've attempted to find an established group that offers these things in my area, but I don't think there are any. If there are, their visibility is very low. That means, if I can't find them, not many other people can either.
This area is saturated with rescues that pull from shelters and adopt out dogs. We really don't need another one. But we do need the things I listed above, and I just don't know how to go about making it happen.
Of course I'll continue to think about it. I'll figure out some of the logistics, but not all of them. Where do I go from here? I honestly do know. What I do know is that if it's meant to happen, it will. I just need to put my thinking cap on and problem solve, be patient, and have faith in myself.
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