This is the look of a boy who arrived covered in ticks…
dangerously anemic and suffering from two tick-borne diseases.
Whose owner said he couldn’t be bothered with him anymore…
and whose neighbor and rescue angel convinced him to let the boy go.
This is the face of gratitude and budding trust.
And this is the face of a transformed dog just five days later.
This is rescue.
And when we witness these transformations, there is no better feeling in the world.
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.
Mama always said you cannot pair orange and pink. She was wrong.
The apricot and pink tulips in the Memorial Garden are a stunning combination.
The birds know…
spring has arrived. Our rose arbor is beautifully rebuilt, and the fruit trees are beginning to blossom.
What I wish Mama had told me was that the alpacas and goats – sent to new homes this winter after Jody’s passing – were the safety plan for the hibernating tortoises.
These beautiful, fifty-year-old creatures had been in Jody’s care for the past several years. When she could not care for them last summer, I looked after them with near daily runs of fresh fruit, greens, corn, and dunks in their pond.
One of their favorites: rose petals. There were four bushes in their enclosure – one for each tortoise. And I made sure that the petals were on weekend breakfast meals.
When they came to wake the tortoises and move them to a new home, they found them dead. I won’t go into it; the tale is too sad. Suffice to say that the hooves of the alpacas and goats protected against marauders. It was a heartbreaking discovery.
This weekend, I moved their roses to the Memorial Garden. I brought with them the four pieces of tortoise art including one heavy stone statue that had long ago lost its head. It was presumed lost but when I picked up the tortoise planter I found it had been stuffed deep inside there long ago. A little gorilla glue should take care of that. If only there were a fix for the dearly departed.
They will be remembered here.
On a happier note: an update on Jody’s garden. A team did come together and in two weeks, amazing progress has been made. The weeds have been beaten back, the raised beds cleared, and the orchard restored. With the jungle cleared, I was able to trace the irrigation system and reset the timers. There is more to do, but we are on the way.
It will be up to the team to determine what to plant: a vegetable gardener – I am not. We will look to donate the surplus to a local food pantry. A small offering of goodwill to the community that has been so supportive of us.
We’ll need that continued support as we are presently swimming in dogs! The expected impact from the pandemic has arrived and their faces are not just Golden, but red, white, brown, black and spotted. Hopefully, we will not see a return to the last recession years when we were taking in 800 dogs a year. But our welcome mat is out and we have LOTS of waiting families.
There is a saying: “Wait for them at the bridge.”
It is usually refers to a dog waiting for its faithful human companion(s) at the Rainbow Bridge, where dogs go—just this side of heaven—to run free and play, restored, until they can cross the bridge together with their human again. In this case, it was reversed.
Cannela is the orphaned girl dog of an orphaned man.
Homeless, they lived under a bridge in Mexico – a home that offered some degree of shelter and access to water – but not much more. Whether the man met Cannela before or after Cannela met a car is unclear. The meeting was unfortunate and left Cannela with a broken back and leg.
The man was Cannela’s first guardian angel. He watched over the dog as her broken bones bonded together – not enough to recover the proper use of her hind legs, but enough that she could walk and run a little bit – and wiggle a lot with joy. A happier dog, you have never met.
Death stole the man from Cannela. The dog waited in vain at the bridge for the man’s return until a devastating fire stole the only home Cannela had known.
Somehow, she escaped to the streets. Rumor has it she was picked up and left at the dump. This, I cannot confirm. But the odds of her survival – much less happiness without her guardian angel – were not good.
Thankfully, a second angel stepped in. A rescuer who makes regular trips to the border to save dogs’ lives heard of Cannela’s plight and rushed to her aid. She brought Cannela to Homeward Bound. Thin, flea-covered, lethargic, worrisome. But just a few days of good food and care revealed her happy and adoring personality.
A thorough medical exam and x-rays revealed that nothing could be done about her fused bones. “Just love her,” Doc said. And this is when her third guardian angel stepped in.
Cannela was scooped up by one of our own.
As a permanent foster, all of Cannela’s medical needs will be met for life by Homeward Bound. All the love she needs will be supplied her new family.
Your first angel waits for you at the bridge, Cannela. You will see each other again someday. Just be prepared to share. You have many angels watching over you, now.
All good photos taken by Rob Kessel of Rob and Dog.
Update: Cannela begins swim therapy!
My preference for a packed garden has led to some thuggery.
I spent the day cutting back prized but overgrown California fuschias, cerinthe major (honeywort), and even California poppies to allow the verbascum, sea holly, and blazing star see the light of day.
It’s a happy garden that grows so vigorously that it needs to be edited in May!
Sometimes, gardeners get tunnel vision; all we see are the weeds and work.
The same with rescue; the sad stories and hard days can overwhelm.
To be sure, the usual culprits are there in the garden: Bermuda grass and wild morning glory in particular.
But I say ‘look up.’
In rescue, you learn that you cannot dwell on the obstacles and setbacks. You have to look forward to the good that can be done. While our hearts still ache for the loss of our little Rose to Parvo, we have been celebrating the recovery of Lilac. She stayed with us for a bit to ensure that she would go home strong and healthy –
and so she could make up some lost socialization time during her period of isolation.
Post-darkness, she is a gift of sunlight and happiness.
Look up dear gardener – at the magnificent roses, the tall Verbena that towers, and the Daylilies in bloom.
Look up to the brilliant Yarrow, Matijila poppies, and Jupiter’s Beard.
Look forward to the Delta sunflowers, the Dahilias, Agastache, Penstemon, Bee Balm, Rudbeckia, Zinnias, and Salvias. They will be here before you know it.
The weeds, like troubles, will always be there. But it is the good and beauty that deserves our focus.
Happy life, sweet girl.
Just set him loose.
That’s what a local shelter told a woman who was trying to surrender a stray, six-month puppy after failing to find tags, a microchip, or its home after posting for over a week.
In the time of COVID-19, if a dog is dangerous, obviously sick, or injured, the shelter will accept – and euthanize it. If it is healthy and safe, and the person is unable to keep it, they (unbelievably) advise setting it loose. In this case, the woman already had well over the legal limit of dogs. A six-month-old, unneutered boy was one too many.
Thankfully, she could not bring herself to do this. Thankfully, we were there.
He arrived on Easter weekend. The team named him Jellybean. I have no doubt that he will be scooped up shortly after he is seen by our vet and neutered. He is absolutely adorable. Someone loved this dog once. Someone spent time housetraining him and teaching him to bring back, leave, and sit. But no one claimed him.
On their website, the shelter states that their mission is “to SAVE LIVES!” I guess the disclaimer should read “in good times.” These are the times that test our commitment and resolve. I hope they don’t ask me for a donation again.
He went from scared to joyful in the span of a half hour with the help of a kind volunteer.
Then, Jellybean and I spent most of the day in the garden.
He is an excellent helper. Attentive,
playful,
and content to be tethered close by as I work.
He does not like the kennel, and looked on as Ivan was adopted…with envy, I think.
Don’t worry little man. This will be you too…soon.
A carrier pigeon arrived in the garden in late February. It spent the better part of the day just watching. It was not carrying a written message on its banded leg, but perhaps it foretold what was about to unfold.
The ducks and geese mock us now. Public use areas have been closed due to COVID during the remainder of hunting season. The birds have found plenty of places to feast and fly – unmolested. We envy their togetherness.
The rescue is very quiet.
We have limited our on-site volunteers to two per shift. It ensures that there are teams available to feed, clean, exercise and care for the dogs while protecting ourselves and each other.
I have found a quiet corner in the garden away from working team members to keep the weeds from overrunning the place.
And to get out where it is safe. I usually crave my solitude in the garden.
Strange that I should miss the commotion.
The little boy I wrote about last week – Orbit – has gone to foster.
Remington, too.
They can finish healing there while reducing our volunteers’ chores. Our fosters have stepped up in a big way for which we are grateful.
Solitude is hard for some. If we can find a silver lining in this disaster, it is the forced time to stop our hectic lives long enough to appreciate each other, goodness, and the things that should unite not divide.
“It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts.” ~K.T. Jong
A friend posted to social media. She was feeling frustrated and penned up. To busy herself, she cleaned her bookshelf where she found a copy of The Diary of Anne Frank. Perspective.
In my dream, I hear the sounds of thunder. Growling, gnarling, teeth gnashing in a battle to ensure each has their own. Looting and hoarding. Sounds of terror and squeals of alarm. Intimidation and threats. Bodies slammed to the ground.
Awakened. The sounds continue; the smell is unbearable.
Is this our end?
No. It is puppies at play!
Ferocious cubs. Testing out their tiny voices and might on the early path to doghood.
Four Great Pyrenees puppies to be exact.
They invaded our home when their devoted mom had finally had enough of them. When she packed their bags, they were cute little fluff balls. Now they are growing like little monsters – consuming their enclosure – desperate to get out and play.
This is Adele’s litter.
Born in a field. Found by a good Samaritan. Frighteningly, taken to a shelter where the threats that lurk are as great as the elements and predators: diseases.
We whisked them away.
Jody, our leader, kept mama and her babies isolated and closely guarded for their first fragile weeks – protected against dogs and humans with their germy cargo. Life-saving protections.
They thrived.
They exceeded mom’s patience.
And they pushed the cuteness scale off the charts – along with their weights.
They are endlessly poopy, smelly, bundles of fur – so fat, they waddle and are easily tipped by the big dogs.
They are all being treated for icky poo…leaving a trail of sticky footprints wherever they wander…and a mountain of laundry.
Chaos reigns in our home.
My husband loves them dearly but has made clear: four puppies with liquid poo – too much for future reference! (As if!)
Soon, they will be well and ready to go home – and it will be quiet again.
For now, they are a welcome if exhausting diversion from the days’ news and a reminder of all that is still sweet, joyful, and filled with hilarity and tomorrow’s hopes.
And we could all use a little of that right now.
Mother Nature has been taunting us. Sending daytime temps soaring, then blowing in a light freeze. To boot – a bone-dry, record-breaking February. Not a drop of rain.
As I undertake the annual editing of Asters, I’m glad that I moved summer-blooming perennials in the fall. Apparently, there is an old gardener saying that this helps them get their feet under them.
Someone else needed some help getting her feet under her. Her name is Babe. And she stole my heart.
Babe was destined for China’s dog meat market. Having been used to raise puppies for three years, she was loaded onto a truck with dozens of other dogs and shipped off. Brave activists literally stop these trucks on the highway in confrontations that can get ugly. While eating dogs is not illegal in China, the (barbaric) slaughter of animals without health certificates is. Still, officials look the other way and let these warriors of heart fight it out themselves. Thankfully, Babe’s rescuers were successful. She and many more were pulled from the truck and taken to a shelter where they were quarantined and tested, receiving required vaccinations and health certificates as they waited for a chance at a real life.
Dogs like Babe don’t get adopted in China. It is illegal to keep a dog her size in the city, and there is a bias against anything “used.”
She is a timid girl. Submissive and frightened in new environments. All of this was a lot for her. She arrived in early January with a group of dog and spent another two weeks in communal quarantine where I was one of her caregivers.
At the beginning, she had to be lifted out of her kennel to the yard. She is extremely thin, but her frame is large and heavy.
Over the course of the two weeks, she went from crawling and cowering to full-on play with the group.
When she left the safety of her quarantine for the kennels, it was a setback for her. So she was moved to the senior yard where she lived and thrived in the company of other dogs.
Babe reminds me of our Boris…another one from China.
We weren’t sure he would make it that first morning after his late night arrival. Finding the right home made all the difference. He came by for a photo shoot recently; the transformation is hard to believe.
This is what love will do.
Babe needed a home like Boris’. A loving, patient and quiet home – providing time and stability so she could get her feet under her and learn the ways of a loved family dog.
We found that for Babe recently. And the family says she is blossoming – just like Boris and the plants I moved last fall.
He is my sugar-faced little man. It seems like just yesterday, he was my little boy.
Serious and uncomfortable with the camera,
it all melts away for Daddy.
Our Bella picked him out as a puppy and raised him right.
They were inseparable.
There has never been a human or animal he did not befriend.
In his grief at her passing, he chose a wild child named Yogi.
He does his best to keep our hooligan in line. No matter their size difference, Jackson always wins. Or Yogi always lets him.
He tolerates the foster puppies that Yogi welcomes with joy. And yet, they gravitate to him like a cranky old grandfather.
He is treated with deference.
He is cat-like. Independent. Solitary. Never a hugger. For years, he would find his own quiet spot in the house and always slept at the foot of the bed. Away.
Now, at 11, he is different. He wants to be near. I find him sleeping on the pillows by morning.
He welcomes kisses.
He insists on greeting everyone with a toy and dares you to chase him.
We always let him win.
His ridiculous gaping smiles…
have turned to hilarious toothless grins.
He snores. He imposes his will with relentless stares. And he is sweet beyond words.
He is my sugar-faced little man.
And I hope he is with us forever and ever.
I am trying desperately to keep up with the advancing spring…in January! Crocuses, hyacinth, narcissus…even ceanothus and mid-season tulips are pressing up.
We only had two days of mild frost this “winter.” The roses were still blooming when we did our annual pruning.
There is no stopping the youthful march of spring now – either in the garden or in the dogs’ Senior Yard.
Affectionately referred to as Sugar Shack Acres, this is where dogs that are unable or unlikely to be adopted due to their extreme special needs live in their own little house and large shaded yard, surrounded by love. Since 2012, Red has reigned over this sanctuary section of our rescue.
At the age of seven, Red and his cohort of feral friends roaming a property in Oregon were rounded up by cowboys, put in a barn, and adopted out to an unprepared public. Turning a feral dog into a family dog is not for the faint of heart – especially a dog that has lived wild for seven years. Accounts are that most of the dogs found their way back to the wild. The woman who adopted Red quickly understood what she had gotten herself into and surrendered him to us where he would be safe.
It took a long time for Red to feel comfortable. There is still a part of him that is very much wild. If given the opportunity, he would still run. But now – at the age of 15 – he has found peace and contentment (and cookies!) in the company of like-minded dogs.
Like winter, they had settled into a gentle quiet. And then…
Over the past month, a series of boisterous youngsters sprang up like spring bulbs to disturb his tranquility. First, Brie – a one-year-old girl with an old lady problem (ectopic ureter).
Then, Laila – a ten-month-old hydrocephalus (water on the brain) girl. She is blind – but that doesn’t slow her down one bit.
And now CoCo – full of spunk and play, hanging out while she waits for her forever family to take her home.
They have recharged the visiting Ladybug….
and then exhausted her.
While Red and his fellow seniors, Violet,
Miller,
and Tana must be wondering…who let the pups in!
It’s inevitable Red;
spring will come whether you are ready or not – so embrace it and enjoy!
This is Yogi taking a forced break from puppy fostering.
It has been nonstop since the beginning of July. GiGi’s litter: Garrett, Gabe, Griffin and Gracie.
Beau
Dude
and Conway.
Before them, Rose, Ty, and Nutmeg,
Anna,
Sara,
Lily,
and Noah.
Fourteen puppies in eight months. No wonder Yogi is exhausted!
He’s such a great sport and expert puppy raiser, entertaining them, teaching them boundaries, watching over them, and generally allowing them to torture him.
It’s that later part that put him in the cone. Too many puppy licks in ears and eyes leading to infections; lowered immune system and allergies causing hot spots. He has more than earned a break. Camp Yogi is temporarily closed for business. So, naturally, as soon as the cone went on, these two showed up.
Adorable little Heeler mix pups that someone dumped in a field near the rescue. Thankfully picked up by a good Samaritan and brought to us. We named them Barley and Hops. It kills me to leave puppies at the rescue. Not that we have not raised hundreds. But I believe puppies need to be in a home where they can get all of the attention, care, and socialization they need to start their young lives off right. And no matter how careful we are and how separate we keep them, there is always the risk of another dog coming in carrying their own unwelcome guest before these little fur balls have developed strong immune systems.
So naturally, one of these two became unwell. When I arrived last weekend, Barley was clearly not feeling good. His temperature had skyrocketed, he wasn’t eating, and he didn’t want to get up. Emergency measures were kicked in. The fever broke quickly, and by the next day, he was eating. But his legs were not working.
While my mind races right to dark, scary places, our leader stays firmly in the light of hope and drags me along with her. His brother showed no symptoms. She said to let the medicine and rest do its thing. They remained separated, but together, and isolated from all others with only the two of us watching over them. Thirty-six hours later, he got up long enough to poo. The next day, he stood to eat. And by the time Doc set eyes on him again, he greeted her standing with tail wagging. From there, he progressed rapidly. A week later, he is running and jumping…and now…my puppy worlds have collided.
While they wait for their own adoption day, Barley and Hops are hanging out with my former foster, Conway – now named Chance.
I’m hoping we can get Yogi over his hot spots as quickly, because everyone loves a happy ending.
Gardens For Goldens 