The Problem with Perfect Dogs: They're all taken.

Although Bindi’s previous life is mostly unknown, I do know this: I know, without a doubt, that she was unsocialized, untrained and unfairly stripped of her potential to be adopted.  When a person goes to the shelter looking for a dog, they are looking for an easy dog, an obedient dog – basically put, an adoptable dog.  Bindi was not this. She was not even close.  Yes, she could pass a temperament test by not eating the fake hand put in her food and not biting the face off the pretend child that is in the same room, but as far as home life goes, Bindi would have been deemed as unadoptable.  She would have been returned to the shelter time and time again. Failed, time and time again.  Not only had this poor dog been abandoned and then forced to live in a shelter with concrete walls, but now she’s expected to be perfect the second she walks in to a home, expected to magically know and abide by all of the rules and expectations. 

When a person rescues a dog, they have to realize that their background is not all sunshine and flowers.  There is going to be a learning curve for the dog, for you and for your relationship together.  There’s a communication level that is going to take a few days, weeks, months to get right.  Unfortunately, today’s world wants immediate gratification and waiting is unacceptable.  So, that leaves sweet Bindi.  Due to the humans that raised her, or the lack thereof, it now gives her a slim to none chance of being successful in a home life.  Thankfully, there are foster programs full of people that understand that a dog needs some time to unwind, gauge the people around them, and learn to trust and respect the boundaries and limitations placed before them.

  

One big happy, family. None of this would have
happened in the first month of foster care.

Bindi was definitely way too curious and focused about cats when she came to me.This picture was taken 7 weeks after I started fostering her.
Although Bindi used to give my cat reason to distrust her, my kitty
no longer has any fear of her and frequently rubs up on her and doesn't move away when Bindi comes near her. 

Bindi is very, very trainable and can understand what you
want her to do quickly.  She's waiting for the 'ok' to begin
eating dinner here.

Bindi is one of the lucky ones.  She would have never, ever made it out of the shelter alive and lived to see old age.  Because, you see, Bindi couldn’t do anything in an acceptable fashion.  She had no control over her body, her mind, or her energy level.  This created chaos for every single moment of the day. That’s a stressful way to live, no matter how happy she looked on the outside.  She was sleep deprived because for weeks she was unable to actually relax enough to sleep. She was so over excited and stimulated that she would scratch me daily from not being able to control herself.  It took two weeks for her to be able to walk through the house in a somewhat normal fashion (and I say ‘normal’ very, very loosely).  It took over a month for us to go outside and even attempt to take a walk. But regardless, the amount of work I put into Bindi doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is that I had to fix someone else’s doing.  I had to undo two years of unacceptable behavior that she has learned because somebody refused to give her the time of day. Or night. Or ever. 
Bindi can now walk on a leash, knows an insane amount of commands, listens like a dream, gets along with my kitties, knows our routine, does awesome in a car and as I type this, is snoring on my lap, which she will do ALL DAY LONG if given the opportunity.  All of the previous things took 2 months of hard work to get to.  I hope people realize that at the shelter, there is no “house trained, crate trained, mellow, great with dogs, cats, kids, cars, doesn’t shed, etc, etc, etc” because if there was, that dog wouldn’t be there. They’d be at home with the owner that taught them all of those things and put the time and effort in to make sure their dog was a wonderful, confident part of the family.  The dogs in the shelter are broken, defeated and most times, on their last strand of hope.  So if you choose to go to the shelter, which I hope you all do, please don’t turn away from the dog that’s jumping up and down incessantly or barking or spinning in circles.  In each of those cages is a dog that has the potential to be anything you want them to be, they just need to be given the chance to succeed.

Rescues in every state for every breed have many, many dogs available for adoption and a countless number of dogs needing a foster home.  If you have space in your heart and home for a dog, please consider fostering or adopting one of the dogs on their waiting list. If you can’t adopt or foster for whatever reason, please volunteer, advocate and educate. 

For a list of rescues or adoptable dogs in your area, visit PetFinder.com.

Hurts So Good

I am a Craigslist troller.  I scroll up and down, city after city, for free things I don’t need and ‘for sale’ things I do, but still can’t afford to buy.  However, I almost ALWAYS end up in the “lost and found” or pets section.  Not because it’s fun. It’s not.  Not because it makes me feel good. It doesn’t. My boyfriend, Trey, has walked in and caught me countless times, depressed and saddened from something I’m reading or watching, and always says, “Why do you do this to yourself?” My answer is always this - because it reminds me of the atrocities that are out there in Charlotte, Houston, Sacramento, the world.  Because it makes me feel the hurt that is necessary if I want to make it in the animal rescue world.   Folks, keep this in mind: It is necessary for your heart to hurt in this business.  It’s what drives the passion.

Generic picture of a chained pitbull - the sadness and misery
in their face and body language speak volumes.

November 23, 2011 - Greensboro, NC (but could be Anywhere, USA): Female Pit Bull: 14 years old , has had 11 litters , she produces well. most likely has a few more litters in her . a real money maker . she still looks good overall , has one eye and a sagging stomach . you could get her a tummy tuck and she will be good to go .her fee is 500.00 . Thanks

One eye? Tummy tuck? This baby belongs cuddled up in a warm house on a Temperpedic dog bed to alleviate the pressure on her sore and arthritic joints, offered regular warm meals for her deteriorating teeth and even some yummy table scraps from the kids that use her as a pillow for their living room sleepovers.  

 I’m not sadistic, but I force myself to read, look at, and watch things like this frequently.  If I don’t know the things that occur and are happening right here in my backyard, how can I be any help?  No one got anywhere in life by keeping their head in the sand.  Does ignorance lead to change? No.  I am not stupid enough to believe that stricter laws will bring dog fighting or backyard breeding to an end.  Criminals fight dogs. Criminals also break laws. They don’t give a shit about statute 3950042, section 2929405.  No.  Regular, law-abiding citizens like myself will bring change. Maybe not in my lifetime, but dammit, I will be a part of it.  I will help to end this abuse and prejudice.  I will foster, I will advocate, I will stand at rallies at town hall to support the banning of gas chambers in animal shelters, I will call the dog fighting tip line when I see shady activity, I will educate people that I come across that have preconceived notions about the dog on the end of my leash before even meeting them for 2 minutes, I will tell people that I have a PIT BULL, not a lab mix and I will not shy away from the negativity. I will stand up, embrace it and intelligently prove them wrong.  Things won’t change unless the outcry is loud enough to drown out everyone else.  Stand with us.  If you’d like to help in any way, please email me at shana@carebullies.org.  We need each and every one of you.

To quote a fantastic article I read earlier, “In a hundred years, the pit bull has gone from national hero to unpredictable monster, and the dogs are still the same. We’re the ones who have changed.”  There will always be bad people, cruel individuals and terrifying stories of abuse at the hands of humans.  With the tenacity and passion that we dog owners love and embrace, we can turn this thing around.  Good outlasts evil; slow and steady wins the race.

Who Lives In A Pineapple Under the Sea?

When I think of Sponge Bob, I can't help but think of Little Fievel (you know, that 80's cartoon movie with the cute little mouse with the big ears?) singing his song to the moon and stars looking for his family.  

“Somewhere out there,

beneath the pale moonlight,

someone's thinking of me 

and loving me tonight.

Somewhere out there,

someone's saying a prayer,

that we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there.

And even though I know how very far apart we are,

it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star.

And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby,

it helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky…”

Sponge Bob has been in boarding since May. Let me repeat that – since May. In the last 6+ months, we’ve had a large handful of dogs that have been in need of foster homes, and the public has rose to the challenge for every dog … except Spongey.  Let’s talk for a minute here – Sponge Bob is deaf. But please, don’t let that four letter word turn you away.  Deaf dogs are a rare treat. They have no thunderstorm anxieties. They don’t react to the neighborhood barking dog at 6am in the morning.  They give you awesome eye contact.  They feel your emotions and read you better than any dog or person in your life.  They have a happy go-lucky existence to them, because they live in a blissfully happy world.  Dogs that are deaf since birth, like Spongey, know no different.  They are incredibly adept at picking up visual cues such as body language, light changes, shadows or peripheral vision changes. They feel changes in their environment much more easily than hearing dogs, picking up on different vibrations in the floor when a guest walks in as opposed to a family member, a slight change in the air pressure when a window is cracked in another room or just knowing when a car pulls in the driveway.  

Being deaf is not a downfall.  It is an amazing attribute to an already awesome canine.  The problem with Spongey is not his hearing.  His hearing is just another quirk for an adoptive family to love, much like families love family pets that chew shoes, lick their faces incessantly or give their best "puppy dog" look for just one more treat.  The problem with Spongey isn’t really his problem at all.  It’s every person that has looked at his pictures, read his bio and said, “Oh, I hope somebody falls in love with him” or “I know someone will adopt him soon”.  Well, that someone hasn’t stepped up yet.  Could that someone be you?

Living in boarding can be stressful, consuming and even traumatic for some dogs.  Luckily, Sponge Bob is resilient and is still his happy-go-lucky self, but he needs our help. He deserves a comfy bed at the foot of his Mom and Dad’s bed.  He deserves a house to call his own.  He deserves his own food bowl, his own toys, his own family.

Please don’t let Sponge Bob’s deafness deter you from fostering or adopting him. He would never let your needs deter him from joining your family.  For more resources on how to welcome a deaf dog into your home, check out the sites below.  

**A great FAQ site as well as training tips: http://catatonic.freeservers.com/penny/deafdogs.html

 **A great training site for hearing-impaired dogs: http://www.positivedogtraining.org/article/training-a-deaf-dog/

“Somewhere out there,

if love can see us through,

then we'll be together, somewhere out there,

out where dreams come true.”

If you are interested in fostering or adopting Sponge Bob, have questions, or if you would just like some more information before making a final decision, please email Shana@carebullies.com.  If you can't adopt or foster, please help by posting this on your wall or the wall of an organization you affiliate with.  New eyes mean new homes ... and if Fievel can find his family, I think it's about time Sponge finds his. <3



UPDATE: Sponge Bob was foster-adopted in January 2012 and is excelling in his new home and learning how to live a happy and fulfilled life full of love.  We wish him and his family all the best!! Thanks so much Sheri - you mean the world to CCB and Sponge Bob!

Let us imagine.

Adoptable: Lacey

Let us imagine. 

Let us imagine being a small child in which your home has always been temporary; maybe a neighbor’s house, maybe a car, maybe a shelter.  Whichever way, you have had no permanent home, no consistent rules or boundaries, and certainly no people around long enough to even attempt learning respect of others.  You have been let down by everyone and everything in life, so your outlook is bleak. You know no different though, you just know that such is life.  You learn what you can from your surroundings - you learn how to get food when you’re hungry, even if that means acting immorally, which you may or may not know is wrong. You learn how to manipulate people to get your way, because, let’s face it, chances are you’ll never see them again.  To a stable and responsible person, this is deeply saddening; but for the child who lives it, they just learn to live the only way they know how … surviving each day as they come.

Now imagine: this child walks into your house tomorrow. They don’t know that this is a good home.  They don’t know that their meals will come on a regular basis.  They don’t know that they will feel warmth, love and affection here.  They only know what the world has taught them – to live each day in survival mode.  How long do you think it would take them to relax? To release the tension and anxiety in their muscles? To overcome their struggles and begin to open up their hearts? 

A foster dog comes to you in this exact situation.  The dog you get on Day 1 is only a rough, outer shell of the dog you will have on Day 14, Day 28, and Day 100.  Maybe this is why fostering is so rewarding – because you see the rock bottom of a dog and you get to help them, you get to rise them up to become the dog they were always meant to be.  

That’s pretty powerful.  It’s also pretty inspiring.  

This thing called the two week shutdown is a fancy way of saying “adjustment period”.   It is an acclimation to a new life that is so absurdly different from the one that they’ve known all their life, one in which the learning curve is not the bunny slope, it’s the Black Diamond’s steep, treacherous hill.  Essentially, they are learning how to do everything in their life in a completely different way, all at the same time.  Not only do they need to learn who the hell you are and what language you’re speaking, but they need to figure out what you want from them, figure out how to navigate the house, the boundaries of the yard, what’s acceptable of the new pets, kids, furniture, and then to top it all off, suddenly there are rules and a thing around their neck stopping them from doing what they want. 

The first two weeks is in no way an acceptable form of judgment of a dog’s temperament and personality.  It would not be expected of a person, so it should never be expected of another species that can’t even understand our language.  Their initial behavior may be reserved and depressed. Their initial behavior may be bordering unmanageable from their acting out.  Either way, giving a dog a few weeks to acclimate to their new house, smells, routines, humans and pets will allow them to slowly become the dog they actually are.  As humans, we are quick to rush into things and we want to show everyone our new dog and take them everywhere and do everything with them, but that will only overwhelm and stress out your new friend in a way that could be very detrimental to him, your bond or others around him.  

If you are committed to the well-being of your new dog, family and existing pets, please consider following the structure of the Two Week Shut Down.  It is not written in stone and can be modified for your dog’s individual needs.  It is a guide in order to help your new dog experience his surroundings and learn to trust the people around him.  

If it were you, you’d wish the same.

Adoptable: Winnie

Please consider becoming a foster parent today.  You have the tools to do it; now you just need the final part – the courage.  Take a deep breath and jump in with both feet.  

The rescue world will be waiting with open arms.

1 Dog, 2 Dog, Red Dog, Blue Dog

Everyone knows that puppies are quite possibly the most sunshiny, wonderful thing on the planet.  Puppy breath in your face and a squirmy ball of fur in your lap should be a regular form of therapy.  I love puppies. I love to look at puppies and hold them, squish them and play with them.
And then I gladly give them back.

Puppies are pint-sized troublemakers.  They need to explore everything, and the way they do that is by sniffing and chewing with their razor sharp teeth.  Unless you are okay with a puppy chewing on anything near or on the floor, constant supervision is a must. Also, puppies don’t sleep through the night. They are vocal and high-pitched when they wake up, and Lord help you if you need to wake up early for work.  Puppies need very, very frequent potty breaks, and then they will inevitably piddle on the floor a few minutes after coming back in anyway.  Puppies demand an enormous amount of time, especially if you want them to be properly socialized.  They need to go everywhere, do everything and experience it all.  Puppy classes are a must and they don’t come cheap.  Puppies are balls of energy that wear out quickly and are easily removed from situations, but then they grow and become stronger and still don’t have the maturity to consistently follow directions.  Nipping, jumping, house training accidents and chewing are all very common in puppies under a year.  So yes, I will gladly get my fill of puppy love but then I hand them right back to where they came from. 

The reason is this: With adult dogs, you know what you’re getting.  There are no hidden secrets behind their looks, shedding level, personality, temperament, likes/dislikes or energy level.  Foster homes are the best thing ever invented because when you are ready to adopt, the parent can tell you everything you need to know about that particular dog to minimize any mismatches.  Adult dogs commonly will be referred to as “used” by people unfamiliar with the animal rescue world.  The animal world is working hard to change this perception.  We are extremely proud of our adult dogs and excited about the potential they each have.  Adult dogs, especially ones in foster care, are house trained, crate trained, know basic commands, and are working toward individualized goals of polite leash walking or appropriate behavior with guests in the home.     

We have wonderful (and I say wonderful not because I want them to be adopted, but because they really will melt your hearts, heal your soul, and care for your kids and family) adult dogs that are waiting for you. Or your brother. Or mother. Or sister, cousin, stepdad, friend, coworker or boss, etc, etc, etc.... 
Consider helping Izzy - she needs you!
 

It's raining, it's pouring .. and then Bindi started snoring.

Bindi
(Adopt me today!!)

Being a foster mom is awesome. Helping the voiceless is even more awesome.  But what rocks the most … is the people within the rescue.  They are the glue that holds the whole thing together.   There’s so much camaraderie within a group in which there is a common goal.   Most of us have never met, but yet we all know each other’s stories.  The support system is immense and if you’ve never known the love of a stranger, try joining a rescue.  You fall in love with people every day.  Sure, there are spats and disagreements and every now and again, someone takes us all to Drama Town, but it’s an irresistible feeling to have someone that you have never once seen in person help you, support you, empower you or inspire you. 

This support from CCBers comes through the form of a forum for foster parents and volunteers.   Any question, comment or ranting post is immediately responded to by people who love rescue and want to see me and my dogs succeed.   They help in all the ways they know how and then offer more when you think they have nothing left to give.  I guess that’s the nature of this contagion that takes on a life of its own incredibly quickly.  Everyone wants to feel needed, everyone wants to feel supported, and more than anything, everyone wants to feel normal.  CCB not only has gathered together people that believe in the same things I believe in, but they make me feel like a stronger, more competent individual that has a new and more meaningful purpose in life.  Carolina Care Bullies has changed hundreds and thousands of lives – canine and human.  This point was made loud and clear today, allowing me that awesome perspective, by one simple, every day, doggie behavior…

When Kris came to me, she was a sweet, tender and sensitive soul that was afraid of her own shadow, yet loved to the fullest.  However, she would turn into a different dog when left alone or in a crate by herself.  Separation anxiety is one thing that I will gladly bow out on because it not only frustrates me, but it is a very labor intensive process to desensitize a dog to every single activity that you do before you go somewhere.  The awkwardness you feel as your neighbors watch you lock your door, get in your car, start it, back halfway out of the driveway and then promptly pull back in, turn the car off and go back inside a hundred times, all because your dog is now frothing at the mouth because you left for less than a minute.  She had her issues, but she was an adorable dog that trained well, wanted to please and loved love.  When she was adopted, everyone was so excited for me and for her that it fueled my fire to do more, be more.

Cagney came to me from another foster home and needed a LOT of direction.  He growled at my cats, couldn’t walk on a leash, wouldn’t do anything for you without having a treat in your hand and jumped on everything.  As frustrating as he may have been the first week or two because he hadn’t quite gotten that he was not allowed to chase the kitties, or that he couldn’t  pull me around town to smell everything and needed to be let out every hour or else he’d have an accident in the house, he was also a quick learner that made me feel like we were actually making progress each day. 

Enter Bindi.  Today marks the 7^th day that she has been at our house.  It has been a hard 7 days.  Please don’t believe that being a foster is all about happiness and love, because it can be filled with a lot of frustration and anger at the baggage that comes along with a dog.  The first day with Bindi consisted of constant whining, trying to weight pull my entire body towards any direction, overstimulated to the point that we couldn’t even pet her, and was totally uninterested in food or toys.  Each day of this past week, I have struggled with giving her a true 2 week shutdown.  I felt like I was letting her walk all over me and the house rules.  I would then start to try to train but would ultimately get angry because of the constant spinning, moving, wiggling, jumping, straining, whining, inattention and choking at the end of the leash.

Bindi doesn’t sit still ever.  She doesn’t even lay down unless she’s chewing a bone.  No matter how much you ignore her, she is a constant moving ball of energy that demands your time and effort.  The effort this week was there; the results were not.  With my patience wearing thin, I reached out to the CCB forum and was met with not only an amazing outpouring of love and support but tips, suggestions and at it’s simplest, just good thoughts sent my way. 

This dog has spent a full 7 days in and out of her crate, outside for short play periods and eating or chewing on bones.  No visitors, no car rides, no walks, no anything.  I hoped that she was just being a psycho lunatic because of the transfer from the shelter to temp fosters then to me.  The last couple days have been a slim, slim improvement, but not enough for me to be happy about it. 

The dog I came home to today was a different dog than 7 days ago.  This dog was giving me eye contact. Like serious, unwavering eye contact.  She sat when I said “sit”. She waited when I said “wait”. She left it when I said “leave it”. She took it when I said “take it”.  She came when I said “come”.  She waited at open doors for me to go through first. She recognized when she had reached the end of her leash and would trot back to me before our walk through the living room continued.  Next up in our routine, I began to feed Bindi her dinner by hand.  The minute I was done, Bindi did the most incredible thing.  She laid down on me and began snoring.  Snoring.  A simple behavior that most dogs do, but the implications of that snore were undeniable; she was calm, comfortable and at ease.  I’d never been so happy to hear snoring.  She began rolling over for belly rubs.  She was calmly accepting affection instead of being a 100% wiggly, whippy mess.  She became a different dog before my eyes.   The dog of 7 days ago is gone, and in 7 more days - where will she be then?  All the hesitation and doubt in my abilities from the last week flew out the window.  The turnaround of this dog was unreal.  It’s not easy being a foster parent, but I knew that when I signed up.  It takes time, effort, and self discipline, but the reward is massive and so worth it.

Please consider fostering.  Whether it’s a Kris, Cagney or Bindi, someone needs you in the world.  You have what it takes; everyone does. Just summon up your courage and and take a leap of faith. You’ll be pleasantly surprised at where life takes you. 

**We have two CCB babies that are now in need of foster homes: Sponge Bob (deaf, white pitbull) and Winnie (blue pittie). If you or someone you know is considering fostering, please send them our way. We need your help.


www.carebullies.org
www.facebook.com/carebullies

Cagney - Part II

I received an email from a certain dark colored dog last night, and although there were multiple typos (you know, from the whole no thumbs thing), the message was clear.  I paraphrased it below:

                “Dear Old Mom, I am divorcing you.  I don’t know what that word means, but I think I heard it on tv one time.  My New Mom showed me your letter thing about me and you told it all wrong.  I am appalled to hear you say that I fell off the greenway.  I did not fall. I gracefully landed in the water, and I did it by purpose. Not by accident.  It’s not my fault that I can air dry and you can’t! Anyway, if I was still at your house, I would probably poop on the floor just to show you that I don’t use horrible cuss words like you said. Maybe I’d even rip a hole in your sock, or work pants … oh wait, I’ve already done both of those things. Okay, well, I told my New Mom to let me know if the internet is spreading any more lies about me, and if it does, I won’t be ashamed to lick myself on your pillow. Be warned Old Mom. Be warned.”

My mouth dropped. Does he think I’m fooled? He’s already licked himself on my pillow! So I guess when he sees this post, he’ll just have to come visit and follow through with his lame threat.  And then I’ll get to see his wrinkly face and love him up.  Win/win.

So here are a few more Cagney shananigans for your entertainment:

It was a Friday. I took Cagney for our usual training/walk and realized as I walked out of the house that there was a giant party taking place next door at the community park.  We went over to check it out and there was a band, people sitting in the grass with beers, kids playing, just a whole bunch of awesomeness.  So although I had abandoned my phone in the house and only had a bag of treats and a house key on me, we decided to sit and watch some of the show.  We picked a wonderful spot up on a small hill above the sidewalk, out of the way of passersby but still close to the musical event.  C sat like a gentleman next to me for about 9 and a half seconds and then got distracted and started sniffing around.  I was jamming out to some Bruce Springsteen covers when I realized that C was inhaling. Hard. Like really hard. Hard enough to actually be getting moisture out of the ground.  Grossed out, I glanced over and was about to pull him back over to me, when he started digging and in turn, began throwing dirt and sand all over the people walking on the sidewalk. Horrified, I said his name and pulled him over to me, but not before I saw an OUTPOURING of small red insects in the freshly dug hole.  Yes, Cagney had been sniffing and digging in a red ant hill.  As I stand up to apologize to the people in front of me that have sand and dirt all over them, (who were simultaneously brushing dirt/sand/red ants off their clothes and giving me double stink eyes), I see that Cagney is inhaling these red ants like a WetVac. It took him about three good sucks to realize that live red ants in your nose aren’t all that pleasant.  As we stood up and began walking home, I managed to have the following conversation:

“Cagney! I can’t –“ Sneeze. “God bless you, I can’t take—“ Sneeze. “Goodness, bless you! Seriously though. Cagney. I—“ Sneeze. Sneeze. Sneeze. Rub with paw. Sneeze. Rub face on ground. Rub with paw. Sneeze. Pause. Sneeze.

This continued the entire way home, him sneezing about 15 times and having to stop every few steps to rub his nose with his paw.  I felt bad, but lesson learned little buddy … don’t mess with anything that has a stinger. 


Hey, you know what? C has a problem.   He doesn’t really prepare to poop; he’s more of a poop procrastinator.  A poopcrastinator, if you will.  So when he has to go, he doesn’t sniff, find a good spot, squat, finish and be done. It’s more like this: “Ohmygosh, I love grass and I love smelling and I smell people and dogs and cats and squirrels and I want to find them and oh wait, there’s my human and she doesn’t want me to dig in the ground. Ok new plan, I love grass and I love smelling and I smell people and woahhhh, somethin’s happening. Not sure what it is, so I’m gonna keep walking while this weird thing happens and make a giant poop trail that’s really humiliating in public to clean up.” I cannot tell you how many times we would be walking for 10, 20, 30 minutes in grass and the minute we’d walk down the street, he’d squat right in the middle.  I mean, directly in the middle of the road.  Poopcrastinators.  I’m sure everyone knows at least one.


On Cagney’s last morning at my house, I let him get in bed with Trey and I.  He was normally not allowed in the bed, although for the full month he was at my house, he would try every night, multiple times.  Just in case I changed my mind, I presume.  So I call him up and he was beside himself.  He alternated sitting on my head to rolling on his back on top of me and lying horizontally across our necks with his lanky legs splayed out in all directions.  I was able to appreciate what our rescue does at that moment and I looked at his upside-down bully grin and knew that chances are, without CCB, Cagney would have had a needle stuck into his forearm at 6 weeks old and would not currently be tumbling, frolicking, being a giant dope and making people laugh each day.  He deserved to be saved and so do the rest of the babies that are waiting in the world.  Go check out https://www.facebook.com/petpardons if you want to make an immediate difference. Google and donate to any rescue - no, not the Humane Society or ASPCA - no, I mean a real, non-profit rescue run by people that are probably poor and will stretch your dollars as far as possible because every dollar is gold to them. 

Without our rescue, Cagney wouldn’t be here.  Don’t you want to be a part of something bigger than yourself?

Cagney, the Other Dwarf

For those of you who don’t know,  there was a show that aired for almost all of the 1980’s titled Cagney and Lacey.  Starring two women, Chris Cagney and Mary Beth Lacey were New York City police detectives even though they were very different individuals (like modern day Law and Order).   By the cancellation of the show in 1988, both characters had been nominated for Golden Globes and Emmy’s and starred in made-for-TV movies as a follow up to the show.  Cagney’s character was deemed as “tough, abrasive and no-nonsense”, which I find to be extremely amusing because the Cagney I know is none of those things and my Cagney also has an extra appendage.. 

My Cagney came from a shelter in which he, his two puppy sisters, and mom were not only dumped at the shelter, but also covered in motor oil.  Yes, you heard right.  Motor oil.  Apparently, motor oil is a common backwoods mange treatment and their previous owner certainly lathered it on.  At time of intake, CCB only knew that Mama had mange, but it soon emerged after closer inspection that the pups all had it too.  They quickly lost all their hair and were naked, trembling 6 week old babies.  [[In case you are not familiar with mange, there are two types: demodectic (non-contagious) and sarcoptic (contagious).  They are caused by mites that burrow into the hair follicles and cause intense itching as well as baldness.  Super uncool stuff.]]    

Mama Val as she was later named, due to the VALvaline Oil dripping from her ears, and her three babies made it out of the shelter alive; a hard task to do when you look pretty ghastly with no hair and covered in black, sticky substances.  After splitting the dogs up to their foster homes, Pup2 and Pup3 were paired together and someone must have been a giant fan of the show Cagney and Lacey, because that’s what they were named, even though Cagney is a boy.  Bless his heart - he had some gender issues from the start.  After proper vet treatment and a lot of TLC, Mama Val, and all the pups got their wonderful shiny coats back. Yayyy!

So, here's the man of the hour -- Dopey! Err, I mean, Cagney … but I called him Dopey a hell of a lot more than I called him Cagney.  Dopey would not appreciate me airing his dirty laundry, but frankly, I have thumbs to press a spacebar and he doesn’t. Sorry Charlie.

What shall we start with? How can I describe a normal day with one of the seven dwarfs? Did you hear about the time C forgot that you don’t get traction on hardwood floors and ran full speed into the front door? Ok, so he had an excuse that time, but to “misjudge” the next 6 times and go sliding into the door head first every.single.time with a THUNK? Buddy, what are you trying to do? Dent the damn thing? 

Or what about the time Trey and C were playing Keep Away around the island? Dopey decides that since he is obviously not able to take tight turns with his slippery paws, he should go about this a bit differently.  He suddenly stopped, paused, and LEAPED ONTO THE FREAKING ISLAND.  I looked up from the computer to see a 50 pound dog standing over top of my carefully made Crock Pot dinner.  "Oh, am I not supposed to be up here Mom?"

Let's continue -- I have never wanted a camera more than I wanted one the day that C and I decided to annihilate the Greenway.  Training had been going great; he was non-reactive to other dogs and creatures, easily distracted by treats on my hip, the whole nine yards. So, I’m feeling good.  I have a sweet little, “I’m a confident female with a well behaved pitbull. Oh yeah, look at me. I’m awesome” trot going on. You feelin’ where I was at yet? Ok. So, we start cruising, doing well; head up, dog in hand, beautiful weather, we ROCK. We get to the part where it’s a little walkway over a foresty swampland and since it’s really curvy, we decide to kick it up a notch. BAM! We’re off. We’re zigging and we’re zagging and feeling like we’re flying.. 

Soon, we come upon a straightaway, and I see moms with strollers stopped in the path talking to one another.   My morals say, “Slow down, we don’t want to run into them”, Cagney’s puppy morals say, “Trample those bitches!” (I imagine his voice being similar to the Kool Aid voice after he destroys the wall).  As I slow down, Cagney jump kicks in the air to grab and pull the leash and proceeds to fall off the walkway, 4 feet down into the swampland water.  Embarrassment doesn’t even cover it – I refused to make eye contact with the gawkers all around.  He just stared up at me with big eyes, like "Um, hello?! What are you going to do for me?" He was too far down to jump back up, so I sighed, bent down and hopped in to join him in the swamp.  In front of everyone, I had to pick him up, place him back on the walkway, pull myself out of the swamp and without even looking at anyone, turned and trudged home, shoes squishing and squirting all the way. DOPEY.

Now don’t you go on thinking that C was a big doof, because he was a very clever little dog sometimes, too.  For example, after approximately 18-20 attempts to get on the couch, and me pushing him down and saying, “Off”, he trotted away. 1 for Shana.  I then look up and he’s standing at the end of the hall way with my shoe in his mouth.   I sigh, get off the couch and as I walk over, he drops it and walks away, obviously full of shame and regret, right? Nope. I turn around, shoe in hand, and guess who is all cuddled up in my spot on the couch, with his head already resting on his paws with his, “Look how cute I am” face on. Touché, little man, touché.

As many good memories that I have of Cagney, he was not all sunshine and rainbows though, and I doubt any foster I get will be.  He growled at my kitty, had no leash manners, had issues with house training and couldn’t be left alone for more than a few seconds.  But in no way did those issues deter me from using every single day, every single car ride, every single errand as a learning opportunity for him.  Cagney was adopted this past Saturday, October 22, 2011 and after doing a proper dog intro with his forever mom and forever doggie sister, they all drove home in the same car and are living the life in Durham, NC.  His forever mom is awesome and I have no doubt that he will live the life he always deserved, motor oil free.

ADOPTED OCTOBER 2011

Sage

Mama Kris

Meet Mama Kris. 

Kris holds a special place in my heart because she was my first foster.  She was taken in as a stray with her four tiny puppies.  With a 72 hour stray hold looming over her head, "White pit mix" did what she could on a cold, hard concrete floor to care for her babies.  Although just a pup herself, she knew that their future was bleak.  She tried not to panic when workers came around, but everything was just so loud and scary and she could only cuddle her puppies and close her eyes...

One worker, who probably doesn't even know it, saved four small babies and a mama pup that day because she took the time to take a picture and post it on the "Please rescue these dogs before they are killed" databases that get shot around FaceBook at supersonic speed everyday.  Someone from Carolina Care Bullies saw the picture, fell in love with them and did some mass networking amongst one other, pulling all 5 of them that day from the shelter. Still without names,  CCB likes to dub litters with a theme, i.e. the 7 Dwarves, 101 Dalmatians, etc.  This litter was no different, and quickly became the Kardashians.  Mama Kris, Kendall, Kylie, Khloe and Kimmy had been rescued.

Without the help of that one worker, everyone at Carolina Care Bullies who networked in order to get a temporary foster home, transport from the shelter, then on to get spays, medications, then to separate them and get individual foster homes, these little lives would have been snuffed out.  Probably thrown in a metal barrel somewhere on top of other dogs just like themselves, dogs that didn't have a chance from the beginning because they were dealt the wrong color fur, or a boxy head, or muscular legs.

This is why people like me - everyday, normal people that work normal jobs and do normal things - are so incredibly needed.  All I provided Mama Kris was a place to sleep, get love and learn how to live in a house.  But really, what Mama Kris as well as the other 4 Kardashian pups were provided was a chance to live.  Think about that. They would be dead if Carolina Care Bullies had not seen their picture and decided to rescue them.  And Carolina Care Bullies wouldn't be a rescue at all without fosters like myself. So please consider fostering today.  I'm not any more talented or special than you are - yes, you can do it.


As a foster parent, I made a personal goal to tell three new people a day about my foster dog.  I feel that word of mouth is the most powerful tool that a dog has at getting adopted and I want to increase that possibility as much as possible. PetCo, Starbucks, Trader Joe's, Home Depot, anywhere that allows dogs or has high traffic areas that we can walk by and get some people to see us.  While sitting at Jason's Deli outside with Kris, I had a woman walk up to Kris and I and 'love at first sight' isn't even accurate.  She wanted to take Kris in her car and adopt her right then, forever and ever.  After a few days and all the required necessities had been taken care of, it was settled, Kris was being adopted.


Yes, I cried.  Yes, it broke my heart in two when she strained and yelped on the end of the leash because she didn't understand why I was leaving her with strange people.  But as I drove home with tear-blurred vision, I was so happy.  Kris was home.  She will be able to feel loved, wanted and taken care of for the rest of her days.   So I walked in my now dog-less house feeling renewed; I can handle a few days of sadness in exchange for a lifetime of happy.

ADOPTED SEPTEMBER 2011

Pearl



Rescue Me.

rescue [res-kyoo]: to free or deliver from confinement, violence, danger or evil

We've all been rescued. At some point, in all of our lives, we have had something free us from the evils that surround us.  Those evils may be addiction, an abusive partner, suicidal thoughts, financial strain, or self-destruction through mutilation, eating disorders, or isolation. No matter your gender, color, beliefs, economic status or personality, rescue is a tangible force that touches everyone.  You don't have to have someone pull you from the path of a speeding train to feel the freedom of rescue.  Rescue comes in all shapes and sizes and honestly, the word 'rescue' is way too big for it's britches.

I was rescued once.  Actually, I was rescued and then I was saved. You can take a dog from a shelter, but if you don't then focus on the 'saving' part, the whole rescue thing kind of becomes pointless, huh? But that's for later. Back to me.

Beyond any stretch of the imagination, I know with my whole heart that my best friend, Toby, was put into my life at a very specific time and was given an extremely difficult task that even she was unaware of.  Her job was to rescue me.  Her job was to pull me out from under the mushroom cloud of an abusive boyfriend.  The evils that manipulated me into what a "normal" relationship looked like and acted like dissipated when Toby was around.  For almost two years, she kept me grounded, never pushing or prodding, even laughing at stories that weren't really supposed to be funny, keeping my spirit alive and well.  Because of her constant companionship, strength and sanity when I had little, I woke up one day and came out of the fog.  There was no "last straw", there was no warning of what was coming, I had just been doing it for too long and knowing I had her to fall back on, I was fearless.  I wouldn't even know where to begin to thank her, because she doesn't see it like this.  She sees me as the strong one. When you rescue, you see it as an everyday task; heroes never think of themselves as heroes.   And I guess that's why they continue to save.  Because they never second guess themselves.

After she rescued me, I needed time to heal.  God must have known that her job had been completed because her life suddenly took her in another direction and she transferred to another university shortly thereafter.  Cleaning up the mess of an almost two year abusive, abnormal, manipulative relationship should have been daunting.   With the support I had from Toby, (plus my sister who I had finally enlightened on the whole thing), I felt strong, capable and complete as an individual.  Something that would be hard for most women put through that sort of situation.  However, I have never looked back.  Not once.  Not a single ounce of me was ever put towards that relationship again.  As most dog rescuers know, you just have to move on. The dogs do it, and we need to do it as well.  Maybe I was always destined to be a dog rescuer but I never once even peeked over my shoulder to see what could have been.  I looked forward every single day, until one day, I looked right into the sweet blue eyes of the man that saved me.  Taking every part of me in stride and never missing a beat, God must have made him with me in mind.  Thank you Toby for rescuing me; it has created the life I have now and I wouldn't have it any other way.  Trey - I love you. Thanks for saving me and being the man I needed you to be.

Rescue is as pure as the very sun shining down.  Everything it touches creates life, love and happiness. Those rainy days will inevitably come, but no plant would ever grow without rain.  In order for us to grow, we need to overcome some resistance to help remind us how beautiful the sun really is.

If you've been rescued, if you'd like to pass this on and pay it forward, or if you'd like to reap the benefits of trusting in something that fulfills you in a way you've never felt before, then please, contact your local church, Samaritan's purse, homeless shelters, battered women agencies, orphanages, or animal shelter and donate your time, donate used items and every now and then, donate some dollas too!   

Follow my blog to see future posts about my foster pups through Carolina Care Bullies or volunteer work with local outreach partners around Charlotte through Elevation Church.  I'm changing the world .. one rescue at a time.