The garden is increasingly grey and brown – beginning its descent into winter slumber.
The lens finds little of the magnificence of our spring, summer, and fall. We were spoiled this year with temperate weather while most of the country suffered through heat waves, hurricanes, floods, and more.
The garden bears the telltale signs of a glorious season now gone. Every gardener knows to accept the decay and leave it until spring…
to find beauty in its unsightliness. For underneath, awaits a rebirth and a spectacular first bloom.
Lou came to us by way of San Francisco Animal Control Services. He had been found wandering the beach alone. It was hard to see the photo they shared, but we could not look away. We also could not turn him away.
His face was covered with old war wounds; his ear partially torn off. Whatever happened to Lou occurred some time ago. These wounds were long healed. And, as we would soon discover, so was the dog inside.
Affectionate and friendly, a confirmed ball dog who loves a good game of fetch – Lou is the epitome of a Lab with a loyal heart and love of people.
He surprised all with his acceptance of other nice dogs and even his indifference to cats. He soaks up attention and kindness and shares it back. This boy was loved by someone once.
Lou has no idea and doesn’t care that his appearance is different from other dogs. Neither did the people who saw straight through to his heart and took him home last weekend.
“Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.” ~ Kahlil Gibran
Lou’s heart could not be more beautiful or filled with golden light.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees them. A man walking down the middle of the street holding a dog. Moments later, she looks again. The man is gone; the dog stands in the street – alone. She goes to investigate. There is no sign of the man. The dog stays in place – unsteady, but unmoving. The dog is blind.
He could have safely left her at our door. Our rescue is only a few miles away. Perhaps he had no way to know or to get her to us. The Good Samaritan does. Her gait is wobbly. Within a couple of days, the reason becomes clear: seizures.
How frightening the world must be for Betsy. Unable to see, her body and brain wracked with quaking.
We have to try. And we do, despite experience telling us that this will not end well.
On a good day, Betsy enjoys the safety of our company, immersed in the scents and sounds of the garden. She runs zoomies in the wide-open park. On a good day…she can almost see what forever looks like.
But it is not to be.
Betsy’s forever is at the Bridge. Perhaps someday reunited with the man who knew not what else to do. Or perhaps with all those whose hearts she stole when the goodbye came.
In 2019, I wrote of a very special rescue – 19 Labrador Retrievers living in squalor who found new lives and hope through Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue. Our founder, Jody Jones, and her transport companion went to Oregon expecting to bring back a few dogs from a breeder neglect situation. What she found so shocked and saddened her that she rented a trailer to bring all 19 back at once – unwilling to leave one behind for even a day. We called it the Lab Lift.
One dog’s story was especially touching. Minnie was an older girl with worn down teeth and mammary cancer from too many litters. We removed the cancer, but it had already metastasized. The prognosis was six months. Shut down and untrusting of humans, she did not present well to potential fosters much less adopters. We assumed she would be sanctuaried with us. But one couple saw something in Minnie that others missed. She touched their hearts, and they took her home – perhaps initially out of charity but she would come to mean so much more to them than that. “Minnie gave me a renewed sense of purpose in this life. I am forever thankful for finding her,” wrote her new human dad.
This week, her people wrote to tell us of Minnie’s passing. Six months had turned into four and a half years. The power of love.
In January of 2020, we saw Minnie on Homeward Bound’s Facebook page. She was the very last of the so-called “Oregon Labs,” a large group of Labs rescued by Homeward Bound from a very tough situation. Everyone else had been adopted, but Minnie was still waiting for her forever home. Something about Minnie’s eyes drew us in.
The Homeward Bound team told us that Minnie had metastasized cancer. She was not expected to live more than six months. We decided to visit her at the Homeward Bound ranch and see if there was a connection. Minnie was aloof and detached, scared and confused. She had pretty much given up on humans. She basically ignored us as we tried to get to know her. There was no spark. There was no meaningful look from her eyes. There wasn’t even one wag of her tail. I (Elaine) felt we ought to leave her at Homeward Bound because she seemed too far gone and because the whole situation seemed like a lot for us to take on. Jay felt very, very strongly she was ours. We took her home that same day as a medical foster, and we began our journey together.
Minnie didn’t know a thing about living in a home, basic commands, or love and trust. We didn’t know a thing about raising large dogs, but as empty nesters, we sure had love and trust and time in spades to pour into her. So, we spoiled her rotten, fed her all of the cookies, and checked off her bucket list. Three months in, we called Homeward Bound and asked to sign paperwork to officially adopt her. No more fostering for our girl.
We went to the ocean, and she ran in the waves. We went to the snow, and she jumped for joy. We swam in the river and in the lake. She celebrated holidays. She had more sweaters than most teenage girls. She slept deeply in her beds (one upstairs and one downstairs, both beside fireplaces). She enjoyed warm baths. She knew exactly when whatever we were baking (which would somehow end up as one of her many treats for the day) would be ready in the oven, alerting us to the one-minute warning beep. She suddenly had a human brother, sister, Grammy, aunts, an uncle, and cousins. She had a dog cousin and cat siblings. She had human and dog neighbors. She blossomed right before our eyes.
Along our journey together, we found that we needed her just as much (or more) than she needed us. She was a special needs dog who loved especially well.
Minnie conned us all in terms of her expected time on this earth and was still with us until just last week (4 1/2 years!), when we made the very hard decision to help send her to heaven.
Minnie is the sweetest soul, and we know her soul is still with us.
We wanted to extend a profound thank you to Homeward Bound for not only changing Minnie’s life, but ours as well. Bless you all for the work you do.
In Honor and Memory of Minnie Joy Andersen, Loved Forever and Always 5/19/11 – 6/11/24
With Thanks and Joy,Elaine and Jay A.
The next time you go searching for a new companion, allow your eyes and heart to see that shy, timid one who does not come forward. You may just find a dog like Minnie – filled with gratitude for an unimagined life who loves exceptionally well.
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.
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.
Today, I ordered Dahlias for the 2023 garden. I had about given up on these old-fashioned beauties; not native or usual in our typically drought-tolerant Memorial Garden – but they had always been a special blooming gem in the early years of the garden. Between increasing temperatures and the blazing sun of our Sacramento Valley, the army of snails that quickly gobble up tasty first cotyledon leaves, and failed attempts to overwinter the tubers in our climate, I was sure it was time to throw in the trowel. Then I came across a series of articles about starting Dahlias in pots.
In our region, Dahlias ship in late February. By mid-March last year, I had 20 potted in my backyard where I could keep a close watch out for snails, moisture and drainage needs. By the first week of April, all had sprouted. I began succession planting in mid-April after they grew mature leaves less appealing to the voracious snails. Their new home is in the filtered shade of a tree where they receive full sun from sunrise until midday but are well protected from the blazing afternoon sky. I fed them monthly with 10/10/10 organic fertilizer and they get admitted special treatment with an extra drink when the weather turns too hot. The result: they bloomed all summer and into November except for ungodly heat waves in August and September.
A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.
May Sarton
This week, we celebrated the move of our last three Parvo litter puppies to foster. It is the next-to-last step on their journey to forever homes.
Volunteer Pam B fostering the three recovered pups.
It’s the kind of victory that will sustain us for a long time. Hopefully, we will see them all again in a year for a happy reunion.
While we cared for them, we also welcomed a litter of five Golden pups from a Midwest puppy mill supposedly going out of business. Thankfully, they were all relatively healthy and able to be adopted within a couple of weeks. Another triumph.
Sadly, efforts to secure the breeding pair failed. A great loss. With the economy suffering, we are seeing puppy mills and backyard breeders shedding their puppies at rates not seen since the 2008 recession. Unfortunately, these operations are too easily restarted when the breeding dogs are held.
A few triumphs…set against a series of losses thanks to a network of fellow rescuers who persevere.
Stop the purchase of puppies from puppy mills, the retail stores they sell to, and disreputable breeders, and we can put them all out of business for good. It’s as simple as that.Spread the word.
Before I disappeared for nearly a year, I wrote about our foster Ahsoka. The darling Golden Retriever/Great Pyrenees pup is now the giant Lucy who lives a spoiled and happy life with her mom, Susan. Lucy comes back to visit occasionally and has regular play dates with our foster puppies and their shared companion – Skye, our two-year-old boy.
Susan joined our puppy foster team last February by volunteering to foster an entire litter of German Shepherd puppies and their momma, Annie. She is an excellent puppy mama.
In my absence, I did not chronicle this year’s foster puppies. That weighs on me. I love remembering them here. So let’s catch up.
Roxy’s backyard breeder has decided to take advantage of our location. A posted sign offering Golden Retriever puppies has been permanently affixed near our rescue and he routinely sells puppies out of the back of his truck. The man that purchased her made an impulse buy and then surrendered her to us a couple of weeks later. It seems the family was not on board. His English was limited; all he wrote on the surrender contract was “I love her.” It was easy to understand why.
This incredibly gentle girl, now named Indy, found her home with a great family and four young children.
Hank was purchased from a backyard breeder and surrendered shortly after. This giant puppy, nicknamed Hank the Tank, was overwhelming the family cats and small dog with his puppy exuberance and strength.
He found the perfect home with an active couple living at the lake and in the snow. His giant head and drooping eyes have finally grown into his massive body but along with his rapid growth came a devastating diagnosis of cancer – rare at such a young age.
Thankfully, his devoted parents are seeing him through. After surgery and radiation, he is on the home stretch of chemo treatment with a positive prognosis. Paws crossed. He is in my prayers daily.
Mickey was found stray at three months of age traveling with an unrelated Golden. The shelter sent a photo and said he was a Doodle. Note to self: always ask for a photo to scale. Not that I regret the masquerade for one minute!
Affectionate and starved for people attention, this little Terrier mix was not our typical foster, but the golden heart of his traveling companion definitely wore off on him. He fit right in with our pack until he found his forever home with a mom who is always by his side.
Comet came to stay with us to recover from desperately needed FHO (femoral head ostectomy) surgery – something we had been through with our own boy, Skye.
He was in a very big hurry to run, jump and play but first he needed to rebuild muscle through swimming, gradual exercise, and, eventually, controlled play with our dogs. When he started doing zoomie circles in his pen at 5:30 in the morning, we knew he was ready for home.
He is living his best life with his new family at the lake where he puts all those swimming exercises to regular use.
“No one wants that puppy. Give me a hundred bucks and get her out of here.” Found sitting in a crate in her own filth at a puppy mill in the Midwest, Willow was five months old and not destined for good things. The Good Samaritan that found her drove her across the country to California. Willow was completely shut down – frozen at human touch. The woman, realizing she was in over her head, surrendered her to us. I carried her off the transport, into my car, and into our home where she was greeted by our three Goldens. It was exactly what she needed. Within a couple of days, all that fear vanished.
We quickly learned why “no one wants that puppy.” Willow has epilepsy. A low dose of medication has kept the seizures at bay, and she found the perfect home with a woman whose own mother also had seizures. She could not be more loved.
Harley arrived with a heart condition: SAS (subvalvular aortic stenosis) with a serious grade. But you would never know it by the way he runs and plays.
Clinical studies show that the invasive surgery some recommend has no impact on a dog’s long-term outcome. Instead, he will be on a beta-blocker for life. How long will his life be? No one knows. Like those athletes you hear about, his heart may just stop someday. Or – like some dogs we have known – he could live to be 10 with good quality care. The most important thing is a life well-lived, full of fun, adventures, and love. We found that for him.
Mini-Murphy was part of an “unplanned litter” between a Goldendoodle (Golden Retriever/Poodle) and Labradoodle (Labrador Retriever/Poodle). People…there is nothing “unplanned” about an unspayed female dog and an unneutered male dog living together. He was purchased by an older couple (the husband was 81) who quickly realized their decision to bring home a puppy had been directed by their hearts, not their heads. They stated that Murphy is a smart puppy with a good temperament…does normal puppy things…and is delightful and deserves a family that can physically interact with him…”he is the epitome of a joyful, bright, and totally loveable puppy.” They were right about that.
He lives with two active children so they can all get their zoomies out together.
Milo, my foster shadow, was purchased as a gift for a family with six children ages toddler to 16…and another on the way. Needless to say, he spent most of his time in a crate and went outside only on a leash. They knew he deserved better. Despite this less-than-ideal beginning, he proved to be a very well-adjusted puppy who loves dogs, cats, and humans of all ages.
A cuddler who followed me everywhere I went, Milo was especially hard to say goodbye to. He went home with a family and their dog whose hearts needed mending from the loss of another companion. “Now I have two shadows” his new mom wrote. He is where he belongs.
It is always hard to say goodbye to our foster pups – but rewarding to see the joy they bring to others.
So, with apologies to all my 2022 foster kids, we are now caught up.
A couple of weeks ago, I felt encouraged that the collective “we” had finally awoken from a bad dream. For a minute, I thought that common sense and decency had finally prevailed over lies driven by greed, power, and ego. I had hope…something that has been in short supply these past two years and has made it impossible for me to write. It was short-lived.
If the message that was clearly sent was to eschew extremes on either side in favor of compromise and reason, it has gone unheard. The usual suspects are up to their usual tactics while war and climate change rage – threatening to upend our very existence.
Our battles here have seemed too small in comparison. But to those that we can help, I was recently reminded – they are not small at all.
Not to Jelly Bean, whose life was saved by a compassionate animal control officer and was transformed in our care from forgotten and discarded to health and joy.
Not to Dexter, finally freed from life on a chain only to demonstrate the unconditional love and forgiveness of a golden heart.
And not to Willow, the “damaged dog” rescued as a seizure puppy from certain death in a puppy mill to fulfill the years-long search of her new human.
“Where flowers bloom, so does hope.” ~ Lady Bird Johnson
I will look for my hope among the stories of our charges and the flowers that bloom in our Memorial Garden dedicated to them. I will try to write again.
Fall just seems to have melted into winter. A month ago, the garden was in stunning bloom.
Homeward Bound Memorial Garden November 2021
Now only a few cold hardy, fog-loving plants have found their bloom – refusing to surrender.
Maria’s garden art signals winter is upon us.
Soon, all will be quiet and grey – but spring bulbs are just a couple of months away. You can’t beat gardening in Northern California. Please pray for rain – it looks to be a long, brown summer.
Someone else bloomed today. Ahsoka was our latest foster. Someone thought they had purchased another of those pint-sized “English Cream” designer Golden Retrievers. After a few weeks of puppyhood, they surrendered with two comments:
“It’s harder than having a newborn baby.” And…”She’s growing REALLY fast.”
One: yes puppies are harder than newborn babies. Both wake in the night, but one will potty on the floor instead of diapers. And one is mobile with razor sharp puppy teeth. It will be a long time before the other is ready for its reign of terror.
As for growing REALLY fast…that might have something to do with the fact that she is mixed with Great Pyrenees! She’s a stunning beauty who will quickly grow to 70+ pounds!
She was much better off with us than in the crate they kept her in day and night. She came to stay for a couple of weeks and had her first taste of freedom. She and our Skye instantly bonded and he helped her with big dog socialization. They are BFFs.
But its best for puppies to learn from other puppies where the lessons are gentler. So newly adopted Ahsoka – now Lucy – attended her first day of puppy school today.
Shy in new situations, she hung with humans and sought out teacher for reassurance at first.
But good friends are hard to resist.
She quickly got the hang of it and was soon joined in all the fun.
It’s rare that we get to see our foster puppies grow up – but Ahsoka/Lucy was adopted by a fellow volunteer, so we – and Skye – will enjoy seeing her blossom and come into her own.
The call said she was a breeder-surrendered puppy with ectopic ureters. I knew what that meant: she leaked pee.
In the past, she was the kind of puppy that Jody would take up to her house – shielding us from possible heartache if the outlook looked uncertain or grim. But Jody is gone, and an eight-week-old pee girl needs to have her bottom kept clean and dry to stave off infection. I knew that. “Where else is she going to go?” I knew the answer. She had to come home with us.
We have fostered a lot of puppies. She was too small for her age. At eight weeks, she should have been pushing 15 pounds; she weighed in at only 11. She had a bacterial and yeast infection already.
I had a dream that first night. I dreamt that she died.
I reached out and touched the hand of time and knew it was not my friend. We waited for the ultrasound appointment but knew that surgery would be at least 4-5 months away – if the condition was repairable. If it wasn’t? I didn’t want to think that far ahead.
I cleared out the living room and dining room so she would be on washable stone floors. Every supply came out – and more. Mops, buckets, washable pee pads, towels, plastic covered beds, sheets, and gates everywhere. I set my office inside and left one covered couch so I could be close by. It was a small world for her, but a happy one. She ruled her domain, and the big dogs allowed it.
She earned many nicknames: Little Miss Puddles, Miss Pee-a-lot, Tinkle Bell, the Terror of Tinkle Town, and more.
She got her bum washed and dried at last four times a day. At night, we put a diaper on her for an hour – careful not to anger the infection we had beat back – and let her run through the rest of the house. She thought that was a magical time.
Our yard has an open pool, so we set up two enclosures for her in the shade. The big dogs joined her. She loved them.
As often as possible, I took her with me to play in the puppy yard at Homeward Bound. She made friends there.
Finally, ultrasound day arrived. We had been so anxiously awaiting it. The news was devastating and unexpected. Yes – she had an ectopic ureter. But she had only one partially functioning kidney and it was dying.
We had to make a quick decision. It was easy. We brought her home to love her. The weeks we thought we would have turned into only a couple of days – and then a rapid night of decline.
The next morning, we set her free.
Someone said she was just not meant to be – a puppy born with so many obstacles. I knew what they meant, but they were wrong. She was meant to be ours for four short weeks of laughter, joy, and tender puppy kisses. Mabel was meant to be loved.
She left an indelible mark on our chewed baseboards, window sills, table legs – and our broken hearts.
We recently took in two little ones…surrendered shortly after they were purchased (for a pretty penny, I might add), because their people decided they either weren’t dog people, or that a puppy was too much work. One approached us about surrender; we were so grateful that they wanted the best for their little boy. The other was talked out of selling the puppy on Craigslist. Thankfully, they agreed.
In both cases, we were just happy to be able to get them to families who understood the commitment that comes with adoption – or purchase – of a dog of any age.
We have an extensive application process and contract, but it got me to wondering what the dogs would put in a canine contract for people if the tables were turned. It might go something like this:
You realize that I am not a shiny penny or an impulsive decision. You have thought through the choice to add someone to your family, and the time and expense that goes with it.
You promise not to treat me like that fancy bike you got that sits in the garage. I am not a toy to be played with for two weeks and forgotten.
You know that neither one of us is perfect. We all come with some baggage. I will try to leave mine behind if you will do the same and we can make a fresh start together.
I promise to be patient with you when you leave things out that could get me in trouble, and you promise to be patient with me when I chew them up. We will both agree that it is better and safer not to do either.
You know that training is a lifelong commitment – and that it is not just for me. You are half the equation. If you do your part, I will do mine.
If you have little humans, you will remember to watch out for them AND for me and you will help to raise us together with respect and kindness.
You realize that I am not a cat. No offense. But I am not happy living a solitary life. I need human contact and friends to be a well-rounded canine.
If you got me as a puppy or youngster, you recognize that I WILL grow up. And you will promise to still love me when I am old and grey or, heaven forbid, sick, injured or disabled – and need you most.
You commit that if – for any reason – you can no longer keep me, that you will not dump me at a shelter, turn me out, or sell me to the highest bidder. You will take as much care in finding me a good, safe and loving home or reputable rescue as I take in being your loyal, trusting companion.
If you agree to the above, by all means…please bring me home. I would like to be yours. All others need not apply. Thank you.
Gardens For Goldens 