Let it Rain! Let it Snow!

After a month without a raindrop, it looked like history would repeat itself prolonging the drought. Instead, we are graced with another pounding of rain and snow. Thankfully, in our area, the rain and winds are not as torrential as late December/early January…just a cold, heavy soak in the valley. But for the first time that I can remember, the Sutter Buttes to the west are covered in snow.

Not technically a butte or mountain range, the volcanic lava domes climb only 2,122 feet at their highest point. But snow – visible from our rescue – is very rare. This circular complex rises above the flat plains of the Sacramento Valley. Before levees and dams were built to contain the rivers and spring run-off, the Valley would become a flooded inland sea. The Buttes became an island refuge for California tribes, settlers, and wildlife.

Happily, the freezing temperatures have remained at higher levels (good for holding the record snowpack in place!). Down in the valley, the fruit trees are in bloom. And the daffodils signal spring. Just one freezing night ahead. Paws crossed.

Taking advantage of a couple days of sunshine, I started the miserable process of removing the Bermuda grass from the garden beds. It is the bane of my existence. There is no eradicating it without chemicals (which I will not do)…so the war begins early and continues all season long despite crowding the plants and heavily mulching the beds. Two beds down. Weeded. Compost added. Mulched. Only twenty more to go. Sigh.

With the storm cutting my work short…the rest will wait.

The guys built handsome, sturdy arbors to replace the leaning towers of aluminum. It meant a heavy cutting back of the climbing roses, but they will be back – and these stunning beauties are made to last.

Snickerdoodle’s puppies are growing quickly. All 11 will be adopted to their new families next weekend. Mom is already away at foster. She put up with them for about seven weeks and then let us know she was done. She is resting, being spoiled, and learning the ways of a house dog.

We’ll be sad to see them go, but litters are a lot of work over almost ten weeks. We’re all grateful to the extra large puppy team that stepped up to help!

Since late December, we have now welcomed 17 adult dogs from the Ohio puppy mills – and we are only one of a wide rescue group. Here area a few of our puppy mill survivors.

Our doors remain open. They are all welcome here.

Contributing to the Delinquency of Minors

Our dogs are experts when it comes to fostering puppies. They welcome them with open paws and are happy to show them the ropes. Our fosters learn lots of helpful things by following their example like potty training; crate training; how to sit, wait, and come; how to share; and most importantly – how to sleep through the night! But there are a few tricks our boys might keep to themselves.

Jackson is the OG. At nearly 15, he quietly administers his private lessons of “don’t mess with the old dog.” There are no growls or snarls involved. He just stares at them, and they get the message. All our foster puppies adore him but know better than to mess with him. Good lesson…well delivered.

Yogi is now eight…I can’t believe it. For many years, he was the foster puppy playmate and self-appointed supervisor. He is very patient and extremely tolerant to a point, issuing kind but firm corrections when needed. He is the first to comfort sick or recovering pups and they all look up to him.

All good…except Yogi is a world-class counter surfer. And puppy see; puppy do. Pretty much any puppy that can reach counters has to unlearn this when they go home. With apologies to their adopters.

Yogi on counter
Giant Puppy Milo on counter

Skye – now three – has taken over as the primary puppy playmate. He’s happy to meet everyone and immediately engages the new arrivals in play. It’s great for their socialization and confidence, but Skye sometimes regrets the monsters he unleashes. Skye seriously miscalculates by forgetting three things: 1) puppies have dagger teeth; 2) puppies grow bigger and stronger; and 3) puppies have four times his stamina.

While Yogi is bigger and better able to correct with authority – the puppies just won’t take Skye seriously. They figure turnaround is fair play and he is their play toy. Our four- to five-month-olds are almost as big as Skye who comes screaming for mom when the roughhousing gets too ruff!

Every single puppy in our home learns to get on the furniture. That’s my fault and I proudly own it. These kids have been bounced around. They need comfort, security, and love. Yes…I too contribute to the delinquency of our minors.

Yesterday was our Milo’s going home day. This giant puppy arrived at 15 weeks with ear infections and double entropion – a condition that causes the eyelids to grow inward causing the eyelashes to poke the eye. He goes home following surgery with his eyes now wide open and a clean bill of health

– FINALLY (hopefully) potty trained and ready for adventures.

Of course, on my way home from Milo’s adoption, I got the call that another puppy needed our home for a bit. I turned around and picked him up. Yes…he’s already on the couch. That’s just how we roll around here.

Carla: Warrior Rescue Princess

Heaven got a little brighter, and our world, a little dimmer, today. Our beloved Carla McCreary – warrior princess – lost her long battle with cancer. She was part of the fabric of Homeward Bound from the start, rescuing, connecting dogs to humans, and connecting humans to humans to humans to save animal lives.

Fearless, she would go anywhere and to any length to help an animal in need. Respected and trusted by animal advocates in shelters and law enforcement, she ferried dogs from horrible circumstances to us as part of our witness protection program. She wanted to personally provide their freedom rides while reassuring them about better days ahead.

She was the voice of the dogs for as long as I can remember, and probably long before that. Thousands of them. She spoke as them without sugar coating because she knew that there was a match for everyone but the best path to “forever” was through honesty. Her empathy always resonated, and she helped others see into the dogs’ souls, however damaged.

We worked together weekly to get her dog profiles to the website. She would write the bios, then go to chemo. I don’t know how she had the strength to carry on. A couple of months ago, she started asking for assistance. Until then, I knew better than to adjust her words or veer out of my lane. And then, in December, she shared a grim prognosis. She insisted that she wanted to keep writing – and rejoiced in spending the afternoon with her new great grandson. But she could not keep writing. And she did not object when I stepped in.

It looks like it falls to me to channel Carla for the dogs. I will hear her voice as I write, do my best to do her and the dogs justice, and likely steal from her huge volume of tales.

I’m glad that there is no more pain for her. But she leaves behind many broken hearts. I believe she was greeted at the bridge by her beloved husband and a very long line of animals whose lives she made better.

Fly free, dear friend. You will be remembered always.