Month: January 2023

Counting Our Blessings

I thought by leaving before daylight, that I would miss the worst of the wind and rain. I was mistaken. California’s latest deluge – round five – poured down on me as I hurried past wind battered trees and leaning power poles. Weekends bring early morning puppy duty and Mama Snickerdoodle and her rapidly growing brood were waiting. Adorable, right?

Unless you are the mom they constantly seek out!

Eyes and ears are open now and the kids are cruising everywhere. It will be at least two weeks before the yard drains enough to allow them outside. Right now, they would be swimming. Just imagine the poop show we’re in for!

Mother Nature has thrown everything at us…water, wind, hail, and snow in the mountains. We have been incredibly fortunate here compared to the rest of the state. At the low-lying rescue, there is water everywhere, but our buildings have stayed mostly dry. Our pond has become a lake. The chair in this photo is actually attached to a dock. It’s under there somewhere.

We have lost a number of trees, the saddest of which is this huge pine.

And the dogs return a muddy mess every time they go out. They much prefer the puddles and mud to being cooped up all day, but the laundry and baths…oh my!

South of our home, a levee failed in numerous places flooding out three small towns. But most of our region has been spared – especially compared to those on the coast. Receiving three times our rainfall, they are underwater and losing homes and roads to mudslides. We wished for rain. We got it.

The historic park near us has taken a pounding. William Land Park was established more than one hundred years ago. The 238 acre parcel was originally used as “flood spill” – a polite name for sewage overflow. Maybe that’s why the trees grew so well there. These storms have taken a toll. More than 50 trees have been toppled in the park – many of them a century old. Across the city, the estimate is more than 1,000 – dropped to the ground in high winds and saturated soil that is simply too much for the roots to hold on after three years of drought.

It will take months to clear all, leaving a changed landscape.

The good news for our region is that Folsom Lake – our reservoir – has quickly refilled. Our system of improved levees, weirs, and the Yolo Bypass have held…and thanks to the dedicated crews that walk and inspect them every day. The mountains are snow-capped – potentially signaling a decent snow melt this year. The agricultural land around our rescue will absorb this standing water, sending it back to the aquifer…which means hope for the Memorial Garden this summer. And the local egrets are happy! Take your blessings where you can find them.

New Hope for a New Year

Hope rises from tragedy.

The unexpected strength and resolve of a country attacked by its hostile neighbor. The awakening of some that they have been had and used – and that the man behind the curtain is no wizard at all but a propped-up clown. Torrential rains and flooding gives rise to the possible retreat of three-year drought.

And an Ohio puppy mill shuttered by family misfortune means freedom and new lives for 45 dogs. If you follow us on social media, you’ve read the story. But here it is for the rest of you.

In December, Homeward Bound was part of a coordinated rescue of 30 dogs – 12 of them pregnant – and 15 puppies. Their freedom rides were courtesy of Golden and Labrador rescues across the country. The request to accommodate a very expectant girl came from our rescue partner in Oregon who took a pregnant mom themselves. Her litter of nine is being hand-fed around the clock as the mother required emergency surgery.

Traveling cross country just before a record cold snap, the trip was harrowing for our mom. A beautiful Goldendoodle, she spent her entire four years of life producing puppies in an Ohio puppy mill.

She arrived at dawn on December 22nd, stressed and terrified – unsure what to make of her indoor accommodations. Warmth, heaping bowls of food, clean water, and soft blankets…these were all new to her. She didn’t have a name, so we chose something appropriate for her breed and the season. We named her Snickerdoodle.

Her labor began the next afternoon. Six hours in, we felt sure the babies’ arrival would not be until morning. But as soon as she had a moment’s privacy, the process began. Snickerdoodle was obviously accustomed to giving birth alone. Life in a puppy mill is a lonely existence.

Monitoring her on a remote camera, our president and birthing mom turned right around and returned to be by her side. By 1AM, she had delivered seven beautiful puppies. Waiting another hour, she felt safe that mom was done. However, when I arrived early the next morning, I found nine puppies. I cleaned and fed her and left her room for about an hour. Upon my return, I counted again: 12! Then I literally caught the last, number 13.  

An experienced mom, only the last little one needed some assistance – if only because it was so hard for mom to reach over the other 12. Exhausted, she ate, drank, and slept while the newborn babies created a constant chorus maneuvering for a suckling turn. They were born into a thick blanket of fog.

Two very tiny ones struggled and came home with me for every two-hour feedings. Heartbreakingly, I could not save them. Adversity still followed the others when record rain and hurricane force winds knocked out power forcing their overnight evacuation to our vet clinic that runs, with the kennel, on generator. But mom and the 11 thrive.

A few days later, two more of the breeder girls also came our way. There will be no more litters for these three moms. Each will be carefully placed in loving homes to live long, spoiled lives.

New hope for a New Year.