Tucker: The Day I Let You Go

Dear Tucker,

I let you go today. 

I hope you wake up tomorrow and look forward to all the good days ahead in your new life, and think fondly of the ones I gave you in the past.

I want you to know that it’s because I love you so very much that I found you a wonderful home to live out the rest of your life. You see, just like you did, another dog needs me now.

We spent our time making sure to love you, guide you, support you and in doing all that, allowed you to truly blossom. And guess what, buddy? You’re whole now. You’re no longer broken, scared, confused, untrusting or lonely. You have grown into a wonderfully goofy, playful, sock-stealer. You learned how to cuddle like a champ and even though your zoomies scared our kitties, they miss you already, too. We all do.

Tucker reflecting (or maybe scoping out
some ducks) during our last walk together.

You were justified in your feelings
As you walked into our house
Tail between your legs
Silently huddled by the couch

Your life had been chaotic
Scary and unsettling at best
There was no light in your eyes
As I tucked you in to rest

But hours turned into days
You began to open up your shell
Your tail wagged, your tongue hung out
With each kiss and hug you felt

Your misbehavior charmed me
I knew then that you were healing
The only thing you didn’t know
 Was how your absence would have me reeling

As my tear drop landed on your big, brown head
You turned to me, quiet and steady
Your eyes were bright, your heart was whole
I knew that you were ready

It’s time for you to go now
I’d have it no other way
Here’s your new collar and tag
Maybe I’ll see you again someday

To hold you briefly, love from afar
The greatest gift I can bestow,
For now I have more dogs to save
After the day I let you go.

We love you Tucker.
Good luck in your new life!!
((Try not to steal too many socks!))

Dear Mama

I’m not sure where you went,
or why he took you away.
But I need you here to hug me
and tell me it's okay.

This place grows cold and dark at night,

I’m always so alone.

I can’ t block out the whimpers

of dogs dreaming of a home.

They give me food and water here;

It’s better than the street.

But sitting here in this jail,

I can’t bring myself to eat.

Across the way, I see a pup,

no bigger than myself.

His eyes have already given up

and so has everyone else.

When humans come to see me,

I show I’m playful, loyal, smart.

But after the umpteenth time,

it’s hard to play the part.

I’ve been here a few days now,

my pup friend is long gone.

Soon he’ll come to get me too,

though I’m scared, I won’t let on.

Last night I dreamt of simple things;

a bed, a toy, a treat.

But the man is coming to get me now,

So here goes my final greet.

Mama, I’ll hold my head high

as he opens up my door.

My tail is slightly wagging 

‘cause I’m shaking to the core.

We walk the hallway and I can smell

the putrid scent of fear.

I start to struggle; I thought I was ready;

Please get me out of here!

They strap my snout and hold me down

and Mama, this isn’t love.

I’d rather sleep here my whole life

than meet with God above.

Please, someone, send a savior.

I have so much more to do.

As they get the poison ready,

I realize I hadn’t had a clue.

This isn’t about crowding,

it’s all about my breed.

They say I’ll do bad things

and judge by another’s deed.

These people think we’re different,

are trying to make us obsolete.

But in a world of rainbows,

can’t discrimination be beat?

I’m in my last few seconds now,

my two months of life were great.

A hard life is all I knew,

but it must’ve been my fate.

I close my eyes, but soon I feel

The murder come to a stop.

The phone says I have a “foster”

and I hear the needle drop.

They reluctantly release my muzzle;

I wiggle my body free.

Was my prayer really heard?

Did someone finally come for me?

A lady exuding confidence

plows through the doors of steel.

She scoops me up, kisses my head

and all my pain is healed.

We  walk the same long hallway

and I see my kennel friends,

I hope the man doesn’t come for them;

that they meet a different end.

My tongue hangs out as we drive away,

her gentle hand on my head.

I think about you, Mama, 

And my heart sinks like lead.

You see, my Mama wasn’t like me -

she didn’t get a foster.

And after a few days at the shelter,

her life is what it cost her.

So thank you, Mama, from above.

You must have had some pull,

to send an angel in the last hour,

For me, 

your little pit bull.

Written by: Shana Markwis 2012

Passion is a Double-Edged Sword

I am a very open and honest person.  I have learned not to lie, partly because I am freaking terrible at it, but mostly because one lie turns into 19 lies and the slippery slope continues as people talk to one another and you now have to stress out trying to remember the different things that you told different people and at what time. Screw. That.

I have also learned that I was born with no filter on my mouth.  The only trouble I ever got into involved me and my big, fat mouth because things just spew out of them as fast as my brain thinks of them.  I have put my foot in my mouth more times than I care to remember.  In the past few years since college (and moving down South where I was forced to listen to people talk slower, move slower and driiiiive slower), I have become more conscious of the effects my words can have on people – good and bad. And, as God intended, this not-so-great characteristic of me created a quality that I am thankful each day that I acquired (with a lot of help from my mama): the ability to accept my actions and take responsibility for them. 

I am reminded of how far I’ve come by one small slip backwards…

********************************************

Trey and I are considering moving out of our townhome.  We love the place and location but we hate, H. A. T. E., our laminate floors with a passion that burns so deep we lash out at one another while cleaning up every stray drop of drool, water, condensation, you name it.  The floors are so fragile that the smallest drop of liquid seeps in and soaks into the flooring, creating ridges where it should be smooth.  Maybe it is just not sealed properly, but by golly, this flooring is horrendous.  Looks nice, but stresses us the hell out.  So I started looking for rental places. Except, that’s not so easy when not only do you have two cats and a dog, but your dog is a pit bull. And not even just one pitbull, but a revolving door of foster pit bulls every month or two.  As I look on Craigslist and find mostly scam, but some real ads, I send a routine, not-much-detail message to get a feel for what type of person owns the property.  If a person responds in a normal manner, then I go ahead and send them my customized letter and put the ball in their court.

Here is my original email to a potential rental property:

Hello!

I am very interested in your posting on Craigslist for the rental property.  When is it available? It sounds like just what my boyfriend and I are looking for.  Also, do you have any type of pet restrictions? We look forward to hearing back from you!

Shana and Trey 

Receiving 4 spam emails from West Africa and Nigeria for every 5 emails I send out, the following answer came with a bit of relief. I thought, There ARE real people on Craigslist! 

Hello,

This home will be available approximately 3 weeks from the day we receive an approved application and deposit to hold. Pets are allowed, the only restrictions are dogs that are considered biters, i.e., Pitt Bulls, Rottweiler, German Sheppard, Chow, Doberman and a few others. Please call me for the complete list. If you would like to apply for this location please visit our website, print off an application and fax it over to me.

Thanks,

(Name omitted)
Asset Property Management Team

Now, it could very well have been the NC Amendment that I rallied against and voted against that, to my dismay, was passed yesterday, but I was in a bad mood when it came to prejudices.  I read that email, and my heart burst out of my chest. Hot blood rose up my neck and I could feel my cheeks flush. My eyes squinted with adrenaline-filled resentment. Biters? Biters?! Not even the typical “restricted aggressive breeds” which I can attribute to a prey drive of small animals, but you just deemed my dog, my sweet Tucker, a senseless man-eater?! Oh, no you didn’t.

I needed to right this wrong.   I needed to take a stand for myself and anyone else that she has emailed in her time at this company.  I needed to write this woman and tell her in my favorite professional F.U. way that not only was I NOT renting from her, but I was going to tell my friends and family not to either.  Maybe the thought of having a bad reputation would make her think twice about not only pinpointing specific type dogs in her email, but implying that they are “biters”.   By perpetuating the stereotype for every single email that comes in her inbox, people that have no experience with those dogs, may choose to believe the words on their screen, simply because they are written there.  The Mama Bear unfair bias that I felt for my previously neglected, starved, bred and abused, sweet dogs – Mama Kris, Cagney, Bindi, Cooper and Tucker – needed an outlet. 

Alicia (name changed),  

I am going to vehemently decline any listing of units that you have, as I would rather not rent from you and I will have my friends and colleagues steer clear from any company you associate with, as well.  It is obvious that you have some unfair judgments made about specific types of dogs, as Chihuahuas and Dalmatians can be "biters" too, but I don't see them on your list. Please rephrase your pet policy to be a case-by-case basis, and meet each dog personally to decide if it is suitable to live in your unit, regardless of size or breed. I can only conclude that your bias against animals in this blatant way can be directly related to your prejudices among people, as well.  I will be sure to save your name, and not for the reason you'd hoped for.

I didn’t feel any better about it (hello, red flag!) but smiled to myself as I pressed the Send button.  Take that!  This obviously and completely ignorant, bias, uneducated woman was getting a piece of my mind and I loved it.  People like this need to have a little piece of reality once in a while, I told myself. I copy and pasted it immediately in the rescue foster parent board and got great responses:

“Great job!”

“Good response!”

“You rock, Shana!”

I've had some really great emails along these lines and some really great responses from the receiving end as well as virtual pats on the back from my foster friends.  But this one was different.

Because then I got the response that dropped my stomach through my feet.  I am not doctoring this for the sake of myself, because what she wrote is honest and true.  Just like the way I’ve always been and sometimes,

the people that are
the most brutally honest
need a dose of it themselves.

Shana, I understand your concern for animals, however this is not a rule nor policy that I have personally implemented. It is a requirement of our Insurance provider. If you feel you must rant your concerns and stereotype someone as being prejudice, please make sure that you are certain of ALL THE FACTS before you begin your judgment against anyone. 

As I sit there, staring at my phone screen and rereading the email for a second, and then third time, my phone alerts me to another message.

 On a further note, my house recently burnt down… I lost everything I owned, including a dog and two cats that I loved as if they were my very own children. I hope that you do not present yourself to people this way in the future because you have upset me and caused extreme pain that I have been trying to cope with, only to be revealed again.

I only hope for that in the future, you will be careful of what you say to people, until you have walked in their shoes, you have no idea what they have been through. Thanks again for allowing me to re-visit the most painful time of my life.

Ouch.

Like really-truly-I’ll-remember-this-forever ouch.

I didn’t even know where to begin, but I knew that I had broken the one rule that I made to myself a few years ago that has made me a better person: No matter what I’m going through, the battles that the other person is facing are probably a hell of a lot worse than mine.  So always give kind words and a smile, because you never know whose day you’ll turn around with a little compassion and understanding.

I prepared myself for the email response, debating on the direction I wanted to take.  Did I want to apologize and then still bring it back to the pet policy issue?  Did I want to stand my ground and just give a little, “I’m sorry that happened to you but…” I figured I’d just see where my writing took me.

I ended up doing neither.

Alicia, 

I sincerely apologize for my assumption that your original email was your own thoughts and perspective. I admit that I didn't even think twice that your management company may have policies and restrictions that you are bound to. The use of the word and implications behind your statement about "biters" made my blood boil, and I have silently deleted emails time and time again that have prejudices against my babies. The word "biters" created an image in my head that I felt was so unjust for my smooshy, lover boy at home that I needed to set something right, and at the very least, make this woman think twice about her dang pet policy. I have personally seen a family survive through an ordeal similar to yours and I admit that it must be an extremely hard journey to come back from. I pray that your road will be short and that you will find solace along your way.  Alicia, I try to live by the thought that everyone is fighting their own battle in some way and to give people a smile instead of a dirty look for the rude comment or exasperation in their voice, and I lapsed for a moment in my thinking. Thank you for reminding me how important it is to stay true to those thoughts.

          Good prayers coming your way,
          Shana

My apology didn’t make me feel any better, so I’m certain it didn’t do much for the other end either.  I had hurt this woman, forced her to remember a traumatic and life-altering experience that she was trying so hard to squash down in her heart.  Looking back at my email, I realized that I accomplished my goal of sounding educated, but unknowingly came across as vindictive and cold-hearted, reopening her fresh wound.  Always an advocate for the underdog, always, I just took a broken and hurting one and kicked her when she was down. And then stomped on her heart with the click of a mouse.  The rawness of my words rattled around my head as I tried to wrap my mind around how this woman probably sat at her desk, across from her colleagues, trying desperately to swallow the hard lump in her throat, eyes brimming with hot tears, as she excuses herself from the computer and takes an early lunch to release the tears in privacy.  When she woke up this morning, she no doubt told herself, Today will be a better day. Except it wasn't. Because of me.

Written words can slice through a person like a burning knife, but a written apology? Hardly meaningful. Maybe this woman had a pit bull, or a Rottweiler, or a German Shepherd that was killed in the fire. Maybe she had a foster dog and 2 cats of her own, just like me. I was so blinded by my own tenacity to stand up for my animals, that I forgot that we’re all in the same boat.  Maybe she's fighting prejudice and BSL, just like me.

Some people will jump ship when things get hard, some hunker down and weather the storm and some stand up and take charge.  I’m the “take charge” type, but the one next to me weathering the storm is just as important in this battle.  Just because she happens to be following a policy that she may or may not believe in, doesn't mean she is the proper spot to outlet my anger at the plight of pit bulls.  Anger can blind a person from educating or sharing their opinion in a professional manner, and it happens frequently, especially with controversial issues, such as pit bulls.  Raising pure hell and screaming obscenities never gets anyone anywhere, but either does politely-put cut-downs.

It’s been a while since I put my foot in my mouth, until today that is.  It serves as a painful reminder that everyone is struggling, in one way or another.

Passion is a double-edged sword.
Use it wisely and you'll do great things.
Use it poorly and even the best qualities will be destroyed.  

Team Triumph

Some people have revelations about themselves.  Some people have revelations about their jobs.  Some people have revelations about neuroscience.  I always knew I was different … 

I just had a revelation about dogs.

 

Follow me here:

Dogs pulling on their leashes during walks is a ridiculously annoying and common problem that almost all dog owners have.  It’s frustrating, embarrassing and causes stress during what should be a fun, calm daily routine.  In fact, even the best owners have trouble with this: 

“No matter how many times I give a correction, no matter what leash, collar or harness combination I use, he still pulls.  I’ve begun to think that he likes being choked! It’s no fun to walk him, and I hate to admit it, but our daily walks have turned into bi-weekly walks and his behavior has taken a turn for the worse.  I have used everything from gentle leaders to prong collars and I just don’t know what to do. He’s stronger than me and he knows it. Help, please.”

I have even fallen prey to the leash woes. I would do the corrections when the dog would pass my knee, enforcing that there was an invisible line there that the dog was not allowed to cross.  I had done the stop walking and turn in the other direction when the dog walks in front of you, thereby increasing the amount of time the dog follows you as opposed to the other way around.  I had walked backwards when the dog pulled, then rewarded for eye contact and walking back towards me.  They all worked or didn't work to their own degree. But today, I had an epiphany.

I was driving home from work and thinking about a dog that I had seen posted on FaceBook that is living chained to a doghouse in Gastonia, NC.  This dog is not spayed, has already had puppies and the owner is giving it away, first-come-first-served style.  (Fingers crossed that no backyard breeder or pitbull fighter sees her picture!)  I thought to myself, “I bet she doesn’t put her head down and drive her shoulders forward, trying to pull the doghouse like she would a person if she were on a leash”.  And the so-called light bulb went off.  

What if, during walks, the leash was tied to an immovable object (or the dog thought was immovable)? What if, during walks, the leash was tied to me, as opposed to in my hand?  What if, during walks, we walked together, as opposed to me walking them? 

LET’S DO IT!

Using my regular 5 foot leash and one carabineer hook, I created a loop to go around my waist, then clipped the dog’s regular collar to the end of the leash. No harness, no special collar here, folks.  I wanted to see how this works from square 1.  

Now, Tucker is not a super-duper handful from the start, but he does pull when he wants to go greet or smell something. However, it was so much easier for him to understand what I wanted by having him attached to me.  I also absolutely loved having both hands free to give commands, get the mail, treat for good behavior, etc., as well as not have to constantly be fixing, looping and stepping over the leash.  I could feel the difference in the connection between us almost instantaneously.

So my new rules for walks are this:

You, canine, are now a part of me. We go together, we do together.  Our walks will now be an adventure where nothing will slow us down or cause us to veer off course. If I stop to tie my shoe, you stop as well.  If I get a sip from the water fountain, you stand next to me waiting your turn. You mimic me in all ways possible.  We are a team.  Where you used to get a few steps out of pulling before, all movement now ceases to exist and you will receive silent patience until you are back in position.  We will conquer the streets together, turn every head we see with the confidence we exude, and then I will bring you to super fun places and let you off-leash to run free.  K? Ready, set, BREAK.

My teammate is ready to go conquer the world with me!!

Now, I totally know that this is not rocket science and there are probably a bajillion articles written on this topic already; like this great one that gives you step by step instructions - http://www.alop.org/2011/10/dog-walking-tips/, but I'm stoked that I have come to a new place in my dog training.

I no longer walk my dogs, my dogs and I walk together!
We walk together to find new adventures, new friends and most of all,
to show the world that pitbulls ROCK!

The Flirt Pole: a dog's new best friend..

Understandably, most people have never heard the term "flirt pole" before.  Flirt poles actually started with the felines. Yes, cats.  You know those skinny poles that have a dancing toy on the bottom that entices prey-driven kitties to chase, jump, attack, lunge and stalk? All those things that are so important for a cat to be able to engage in, even though they may live inside?

Well, all of those things are important in a dog's world, too! Humans like to be in control of these things (with good reason), so instead of letting a dog go free to chase, jump, attack, lunge and stalk everything that moves, we give a proper outlet.  This will work for ANY dog owner, big or small, plump or skinny, fast or slow.  Follow the ridiculously dummy-proof instructions below for a 5 minute, beyond priceless tool for you and your dogs.

**AWESOME ALERT: This flirt pole, if bought NEW, will cost you max $4 at the dollar store.  You can fancy it up of course, but there's no need. Dogs don't care. :) **


YOU WILL NEED:

Your dog's favorite toy; the bone toy was from the dollar store, the sock is out of my drawer and the fox is out of  the dog toy bin. Any will work, but use something your dog loves!

A skinny leash from the dollar store - this one is a small dog 3 foot leash which seems to work pretty well and be the right length for control.

Dollar store broom - preferably the one with the hole in the top of the handle as shown below: 

***********************





STEP ONE: Take broom head off of the broom.

STEP TWO: Feed loop end of leash through broom handle hole.

STEP THREE: Pull leash all the way through until the metal clasp is near the broom handle.

STEP FOUR: Feed metal clasp through the loop handle of the leash. 

STEP FIVE: Pull metal clasp completely through until it looks like this:

STEP SIX: Use clasp end to wrap around your dog's favorite toy.

STEP SEVEN: Clip metal clasp to itself.

STEP EIGHT: Tighten against the dog toy until it's secure.

 STEP NINE: GO OUTSIDE! To increase your dog's excitement and suspension, do command work before you allow him to play with his new awesome toy!  Tucker demonstrates a down-stay for the camera.

STEP TEN: Tired pup.





There you have it, folks.  An exercise tool that exhausts your dog while you stay in the same spot.  You don't have to take your border collie on a 5 mile hike to exercise him anymore ... just think like a rabbit and your toy on the end of the leash will be more than happy to oblige.


Want to see it in action? Click the link below to see Reggie (and Ninja Gracie!) with the flirt pole:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=720926735604&l=5367047223550048008
Happy Flirtpoling!!

The End of the Past, the Start of a New Beginning

Meet Tucker - formerly Mr. Wiggles.  This boy (and his sister) were taken in a cruelty/abuse case in North Carolina.  I have not fully found out the details of the case, but regardless, him and his sister are now in Carolina Care Bullies foster program and learning how to live the good life.  Tucker was a fantastic passenger during transport and wanted to just lay/sit/collapse every second that he could once out of the car.  When you open the bedroom door, he doesn't even try to get out, he's just so ecstatic that you are in his presence that he couldn't care less about what's outside.  His love has no boundaries and his complete and unwavering eye contact 6 inches from yours says, "Please, please, please don't ever stop loving me".

It's an amazing feeling to literally be a dog's world.  How easily a person can shatter that, especially when a dog is young..

Last night, Tucker saw himself in the storm door.  Like most dogs, a dog staring back at them from 10 feet away means, "Hey, you wanna piece of me?!"  Hackles raised, Tucker uttered a few short barks, "Hey dog with a staring problem, get away from my people and my door!".  Like we do with all of our fosters, I get up to walk to the door with him to show him all is okay.  He didn't follow me (flag #1 since he's my shadow) and while I stood at the door, I made a "come here" motion with my hand as I said, "Come see buddy!"  He immediately tightly tucked his tail between his legs, flattened his body to the ground and slinked to the corner where he quickly pushed his face into the corner of the wall.  When we went to get him, he just needed a few pats and he was back to his lovey self.  Earlier this morning, I tried to show Tucker the window where all my dogs get to watch the world go by outside and when I patted the windowsill next to me, he flattened his body and ducked his head under the bed to hide.

We'll never know exactly what Tucker grew up around, but we do know that he's in a good place and will get all the love, support and boundaries that he should have had from the start.  Here's to new beginnings Tucker!!! And don't worry, we won't ever stop loving you :)

DNE #550

Do Not Euthanize #550.

This is #550.


Terrified, tense, and resigned to his fate, the only buddies he’d ever known – his mother and sister that were dumped there with him – were already in a back bin somewhere waiting to be taken to wherever they take the euthanized dogs.  The dead ones.  The destroyed ones.  Somehow, an angel had been looking over #550 and he was spared the needle and brought into the Vet Tech program, only to be placed back on the Euth List a few days later.  A worker at the shelter, Jenn Arias, had been desperately networking #550, but with only the below information to go on, a picture of a fearful dog, and the label of animal aggression, it became an arduous task:

2-17 returned from vet tech

Euthanasia Date 2/20/2012

46 lb intact male, HW negative, DHPP, animal aggressive(?)
resource guarder
editor's note: came in with other dogs that he got along fine with

2-9 had been scheduled for euth, but was held back 

Remarks: 
Shy

Trey and I had just experienced a tearful goodbye to Bindi earlier that Sunday morning, February 19^th,  and as I lay in bed listening to the soft noises from the TV, I was carefully monitoring the FB comments about this dog.  An adopter gets a 10 day adoption trial to decide if they truly want to make one of our foster dogs a part of their family.  If they decide it’s not a good fit, they are able to give them back in that 10 day period.  But Bindi was in Vermont. 15 hours away in Vermont. Surely, there’s no way that she’s coming back and there were tons of other dogs that were pouring into my inbox that I had the ability to save. Morally, how do you play God and decide who gets to live and who must die? My inbox had a cute brown pup with a hurt lip, a brown and white happy-looking dog that was going kennel crazy from being at the shelter so long, and scared #550.  Although he didn’t win the handsome award, the thoughts of #550 meeting death before he had even experienced life kept creeping into my mind.  The fact that #550 was brought in with other dogs, yet displayed animal aggression got under my skin. The idea that he may not be saved at all because he was deemed a resource guarder made me angry.  But most of all, the fact that #550 was unbelievably dirty in his intake picture hurt my heart.  That was the final straw.  This boy needed a calming, warm bath from a person that wanted to give him nothing but love, comfy bedding and a regular meal each morning and night. This boy needed me.

I emailed Jenn at 11:00pm, only single-digit hours until #550 received the fatal dose into his leg.

 “Ok, I’ll take him.”

11pm is the time that most people are tucked into their beds, ridding themselves of the day’s stress with clean sheets and a peaceful sleep.  But for shelter workers and animal lovers across the world, it is crunch time, networking like crazy to try to save dogs that don’t deserve to die.  Jenn’s email immediately came back with the scary reality: DNE #550. A subject line as pleading as Times New Roman from Gmail will allow - as if they may toss her email away by accident in the bustle of life, absent-mindedly and indirectly killing this dog before we could break him out.  But they didn’t.  They responded and the next morning set up his shots and neuter for the following day.  I was to pick him up after work on February 21, 2012.

The dog that Trey and I assumed he would be, even from being in the shelter and just going through surgery, was a totally incorrect assumption.  We thought we’d still see the light in his eyes, a wag in his tail, recognition that these people were here to help.

There was none of that.

Fearful dogs can become a hazard extremely easily, and as Trey opened the car door, I watched his body language. Stiff, rigid, terrified, helpless.  He wouldn’t even move his head to look at us, just watched with his eyes trained on us, judging us, trying to read us.  As I gently picked him up to ease him in the car, his legs stiff, his body unmoving, I retrieved my stash of extra dog food from the glove box and tried to lure him from the other side. After a few minutes of pleading and prodding, we were able to shut the car door, but not before noticing that he was missing his bottom canine and part of his tongue. What kind of past did this dog have to survive in order to finally make it here?

As we pulled away, I said, “Trey, he needs a name.” I looked at the spot we had picked him up, Hooper’s Tavern. 

“What about Cooper?”

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The dog that we had seen that night became a completely different dog over the course of the first day, first week and the total of 33 days.  This dog was happy. Like really happy.  Like makes-you-want-to-laugh-every-second happy.  From wagging his tail constantly and with so much force that it leaves red marks on your calves, or pinning your shoulders with his paws and lathering your face full of kisses or immediately rolling around in the grass every single potty break for at least the first week, Cooper was ecstatic to be alive.  I only wish that I could have bottled up his happiness and carried it around with me, taking frequent sniffs to remind me to stop and smell the roses more often and maybe even take part in a belly roll or two down a big, grassy hill. 

Cooper was a stellar foster from the get-go - never showed any aggression towards my cats, never chasing, and being extremely patient with both of them.  His only fault was trying to play every now and then when my lazy cat would do a half-ass attempt at a swat.  Cooper was slightly fearful of dogs bigger than himself but very gentle with dogs smaller, and boy, did Cooper LOVE tennis balls.  Forget the flirt pole, forget Frisbees, just get a tennis ball and he would be happy for an hour entertaining himself with it.  This silly boy was a heartbreaker with crowds at Home Depot and Lowe’s, leaning into people for love, leaving his trademark white hair with a touch of black on their shins.  When Cooper met my 11 month old niece, he sniffed her foot and hand delicately before taking an exploratory lick of her chubby hand, causing high-pitched squeals from her.  Everyone loves Cooper.  

And no one showed their love more than his newly adoptive parents, Matt and Jillian.  This engaged couple had a soft spot in their hearts for pitbulls, but wanted to wait until after their wedding in September to adopt.  That was before they saw Cooper and fell head over heels in love with our goofball.

They did everything in their power to make this dog an awesome part of their family, from following the suggestion for the Two Week Shut Down to buying the same crate and food to ease his transition.  As Matt and Jillian drove away with Cooper last Sunday, they also took with them the powerful happy-go-lucky air that Cooper emits. Like a drug that had run it’s course, Trey and I seemed drained of his happiness and drove the hour and a half home, mostly in silence, but content, because knowing that Cooper is going to have a full and wonderful life is the goal of this.  We were simply a stepping stone for him.  An important, no, life-or-death stepping stone that I hope every one of you will have the honor to feel someday.  And as much as we miss his kisses and knowing when he’s getting into something by the rhythmic banging of his tail, we can’t wait to do it again soon.

You made it #550.  We know angels were looking over you that day. And we know you’ll make those 2 look-alike angels from Doggie Heaven proud. Won’t ya buddy? 




Check out Cooper's (now known as Capo's) journey below: