Dogs – Page 3 – Gardens For Goldens

Nash’s Big Day

Nash, the furless wonder, arrived almost two years ago. At the age of eight, he had been left in a local shelter. He was listed as a Black Labrador, but he looked more like an exotic hairless dog – except for the smell. He was suffering from Malassezia pachydermatis – a yeast found on the skin and ears of dogs that can get out of control leading to greasiness, loss of hair, and “malodorous discharge from legions” – in other words, stink. He had a bacteria growing in his ears that is resistant to antibiotics. It makes his ears hurt. And for good measure, his body was covered in small benign masses that hung like black icicles.

He’s the kind of hot mess that many rescues won’t take on. But Homeward Bound did.
He’s an awesome dog. A beloved dog.

A dog who never demanded much:
throw the ball,
give me a cookie.
make me a comfy bed.

It took a long time to find the right combination of food, medications, and baths to finally grow some hair back – and most importantly, get out the rank smell that kept him from going home.

He put up with his twice-weekly baths, the t-shirts and sunscreen we made him wear in the summer to protect his skin, and the sweaters in winter to keep him warm. He endured the periodic removal of those recurring masses. He moved back and forth between our Sanctuary house and the kennel – depending on where he would get more time, attention, and love. And he saw countless dogs go home and never asked “where’s mine?” He was grateful for all he received.

We all wanted so desperately for him to find his forever home. But when it was finally his turn – it was hard to say ‘goodbye.’ Our dogs get out a minimum of three times a day – usually four. But Saturday, Nash was out all day with a long line of volunteers who had to get their final hugs and play in before his big day: Sunday.

His people arrived early. Anxious they were. Awakened from his after-breakfast nap, Nash was not quite sure what to make of this photo-op.

Or maybe, it was just that we needed to remind them of his sensitive ears.

But a trip to the big park and a lesson in “chuck it” let him know that this was not your ordinary day.

And the soft bed with extra cushions in the back of a car confirmed it.

Nash has his own people. People with balls!

He will be in the best of hands. People we know and trust. People who have a proven heart for rescue.

Congratulations – and happy life to Nash – our extra special friend. We will miss you, boy.

Follow Up Friday: Just Add Love

Taylor was the eighth dog of 2018. You may remember his arrival. At three years of age, this Golden Retriever weighed just 40.8 pounds. He was emaciated and scared, but he instantly clung to our people.

Within minutes a tiny grin appeared. That was his true heart shining through.

There was nothing medically wrong with Taylor. Why he was so thin is still a mystery to us. We know he was kept in a kennel during the day – which we understand was long. But the surrendering reason was that he had killed a chicken. Perhaps he was hungry.

The line on the surrender form says: What would be the ideal home for this dog? The answer: “Someone that will love him.” Maybe that was a clue to his past – or perhaps, just a genuine wish for his future. Either way, it was fulfilled in the form of one of our volunteers. Taylor had seen enough of a kennel, and it wouldn’t be the best place for an obviously nervous dog that desperately needed to gain weight. So he went home with Jessica as a foster. As if.

A month later, he has gained ten pounds and is well on his way to full health. All he needed was love.

Most importantly, that tiny hint of a grin has turned into a full-blown smile.

Taylor is now Roo – named for the adorable, bouncy, baby kangaroo featured in Winnie the Pooh.

He’s goofy and playful like a puppy instead of a three-year-old.

From the moment Jessica and Taylor met, he was destined to be a foster failure. Taylor has indeed found “someone that will love him” – forever.

“As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was going to happen.” – A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Follow-Up Friday: Journey Now Charli

My Yogi had a play date recently with our former foster and his protégé, Journey. Her name is now Charli – and it suits her, but I have a hard time re-training myself. She is forever Journey to me.

She has grown, but not too much.
She is loved (that can never be too much).
But in one way, she has returned to her old self.

It seems that our ~~Journey~~ Charli has fallen back into her old habits: greeting her friends with tugs and pinches and take-downs.

We spent a good amount of time working that out of her, and I thought that her much larger visiting canine cousin would keep her in line.

But it seems that even he has given up delivering the kind of correction that Charli needs.

I suggested that she come back to class with her mom, and I hope she does. Her mom is completely smitten with Charli – I’m so glad for that. But her last dog was extremely reactive and she desperately wants to have a dog that can play with other pups. I could tell that she was a little embarrassed by Charli’s behavior. Not that Yogi is any angel. Set loose in the house, he immediately jumped up and helped himself to the human treats on the counter! Way to humiliate your mom, boy!

In school, Charli and her mom would be surrounded by people who know all about her play style and how to administer a time out when needed. Mom would get reassurance, as well. Everyone in class has been through something that made them shrink at some point.

What Charli needs is practice with dogs that are happy to issue corrections in a safe environment – and consistency until a more socially-acceptable play style truly becomes second nature to her.

I hope to see them in school. Charli has shown us that she has it in her.

“Believing takes practice.” ~ Madeleine L’Engle

A Girl Named Journey

How a garden is begun determines everything about how it grows. It starts with a solid foundation of good soil. It requires just the right amount of sunlight, water and nurturing until its roots are firmly planted to support its future brilliance.

Maybe I am a gluten for punishment, or maybe I just love puppies. Either way, I find myself fostering another one. Her name is Journey. And like a new garden, she requires some nurturing to find her forever home.

She arrived the same time as Irish’s litter. An 18-year-old who would soon be leaving for college brought her home as a surprise for his mother. It was an unwelcome surprise, and so, she came to us at the age of three months.

Puppies are always in high demand. One that was already old enough to be home would not be with us long. She went home with a man who fell for her obvious German Shepherd mix – one of his favorite breeds. He returned her less than 24 hours later because she threw up in his car and whined when she got home. This was our bad.

She went home again with a young couple. The husband was in love, but the wife was not really on board from the start. She was returned quickly for being too much work (in other words, a puppy).

The third match seemed like a good fit. But Journey is not your average snuggly, submissive puppy. She is an independent, sometimes headstrong girl. They described her as “defiant.” The wife thought she was not “alpha” enough to handle her. Someone said she resource-guarded. You would think she was Cujo at four months of age.

By her third return, I was on my second batch of puppies. Our president took her home and worked with her. The “defiance” – which was just bad, untrained puppy behavior – disappeared quickly with her firm, but kind corrections. Still, her puppy bites and jumps were off-putting to our other volunteers who had less experience or patience for puppy transgressions. Now five months of age, what Journey needed was what every puppy needs: both love and firmness, consistency of expectation and follow through.

Had I not been so preoccupied with the puppy litters, I would have spent time with her sooner. She was my garden helper for a week.

She responded quickly to corrections and commands. We tested her supposed resource guarding. No issues. But her play with other dogs was atrocious.

So I brought her home to foster thinking my Yogi boy could teach her some better manners.

What a puppy experiences shapes the dog they become. If they leave their mothers or litter mates too soon, they miss out on important dog-to-dog socialization. What Journey needed was an appropriate helper dog to expend her energy and teach her how to play politely with other dogs. My Yogi has issued corrections to the puppies we have fostered – but this little girl had my 70-lb. boy pinned in less than two minutes.

Biting at ears, lips, throat, and boy body parts was not going to get this girl home – and, as she grew older and bigger, would significantly limit her experiences.

There is no one training technique that works for all dogs – much less all puppies. Through trial and error, and the good advice of my fellow rescue volunteers, I shifted Journey’s play with Yogi to games of fetch/chase and tug of war. He’s too fast for her to catch, and a tug toy gave her something safe to bite on. As soon as she escalated, she earned a water squirt. If that failed, she went to timeout. Within two days, their play was dramatically different – to Yogi’s great relief!

By chance, we got a new dog in: a ten-month-old named Jack the Lab (aka Jack the Tank!) who joined Journey in the puppy yard for some play. Within seconds of her misdeeds – he had her pinned!

She delighted in the play but quickly learned that biting would earn her a smackdown.

In puppy class, a beautiful year-old Golden named Oden took a shine to her.

He lets her get away with nothing, and if she tries to be inappropriate with any of the smaller dogs, he body checks her to the ground.

These are the kind of corrections that puppies usually get from their mama dogs and litter mates. For reasons we’ll never know, Journey missed them.

While Jack and Oden issue corrections (nicely), Yogi delivers the love. And increasingly, those sharp puppy teeth are being replaced by kisses.

My goal is for Journey’s next family to be her forever family. My hope is that her life will be filled with journeys – of adventure.

In Defense of My Summer Garden…Again

Despite a LONG hot summer, the garden fared pretty well – until August, that is. The heat is partly to blame. Deadheading doesn’t help when 100+ degree temperatures shrink new buds into tater-tot size flowers. And it was certainly too hot to plant annuals as we usually do to keep the color going in the garden in between perennial blooms.

But there are eight tiny reason that the garden looks a bit ragged right now. They marched in with yet another heat wave at the end of July: eight adorable Golden Retriever, German Shepherd, and who-know-what-else mix puppies.

Irish – their mama – had been stray in the even hotter Central Valley. A good Samaritan took her in a couple of months prior intending to keep her, not realizing that she was already expecting. Three weeks into the care of eight puppies – they were ready to be done with mama and her litter.

A visit to the vet when they found her might have told them she was going to be a mom. They might have mentioned that her bent left rear leg – the result of an old break – was causing her great pain. They might have vaccinated her not knowing she was expecting. I guess things happen for a reason. The cost of her needed surgery might have led them to put her down or send her to a shelter. Vaccinations might have been deadly to the puppies. She was meant to come to us, but it was probably unsurprising – despite keeping her with the pups in our puppy-safe yard and house – that she contracted kennel cough and had to be separated from them after only four weeks.

Kennel cough can quickly become life-threatening for puppies. But with fast-action, meds and care, they came through it well and quickly.

We took over for feeding for mama – a slurpy mush of pulverized puppy kibble, cottage cheese, and baby food at first. It wasn’t long before the tiny pups were packing on the pounds.

I’m blessed to have flexibility in my schedule, so I signed on as morning Puppy Mama. You’ll remember that that role wreaked havoc with my summer garden last year when 12 Golden puppies arrived at the rescue. Morning Puppy Mama means showing up daily to clean, feed, bathe, and play with these adorable things. A straw happily drawn.

In these very hot days, they are out in their puppy-only yard in the mornings to have a chance to run and tackle before they are put in their air-conditioned shed for the afternoon. In the evening, Puppy Dad or Puppy Grandma free them so they can play in the cool night air. And when I need to take a day off, Puppy Aunt subs in.

Needless to say, it leaves little time for gardening.

But the garden will wait – and the bees and butterflies don’t seem to mind the weed mess below.

I will plant fresh fall flowers later when the scalding ends and something approaching fall begins – and all the puppies are home beginning their new, happy lives. Four down; four to go.

Mama Irish, meanwhile, has had surgery to eliminate her pain. The recovery will be lengthy, but her future is much brighter. She was a wonderful mom, taking such good care of her kids despite her own suffering. We will find her the perfect home and a happy life, as well. She certainly has earned it.

What I miss

What I miss…

Your barking at dog photos I am editing on the computer or videos on TV.
Chasing those TV dogs around the back of the set to see where they go.
Not having to get up every five minutes to retrieve the tennis ball that my beloved retriever purposefully rolled under the furniture (fetch is for humans, too, I guess).

Your schedule of demands beginning with breakfast barks and followed by lunch cookie barks, dinner barks, and bedtime treat barks.
Your refusal to be shut out of any room – ever – including the bathroom.
Your sneaky counter surfing. (No, I am not believing it was Jackson.)
Your love of butter wrappers.
Tug of war with Jackson (you always let the Little Man win).
Your sleeping body always under foot.

Your presence in the garden.
Endlessly pulling sticks, bark, and dirt clods from your mouth.
Holes in the drywall (I left one unpatched to remember you by).

Curling up with Daddy on the sofa.
Crawling into my side of the bed.
Your snoring.

Your sweet sugar face.
Your long, beautiful lashes.
Your fuzzy paws.
Your soft curls.
You.

I cannot believe it has been a year.
Not a day goes by that I do not say good morning and goodnight to your photo.
I still cry when I think of you.
But now I can smile, too.

I hold you in my heart because I cannot hold you in my arms.
I miss you, sweet Bella.
I miss YOU.

My Summer Boys

It is well over the century mark…again. My brain is too fried to write this week. So I bring you My Summer Boys. We finally have a dog in Yogi that loves to swim – and he taught Jackson, too! Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks??

What A Service Dog Deserves

A garden gives us peace, tranquility –

a place to absorb our worries, allowing us to move forward.

In exchange for its service, it requires little:
some food for a strong foundation,
water for life,
a little structure,
and some support when needed.

A service dog requires no less.
In the news recently was a disturbing story of an “emotional support dog” that attacked a passenger on an airplane. The dog was apparently (illegally) seated on its handler’s lap, and assaulted the individual sitting in the adjacent seat as the plane pushed back for take-off.

It is a tragedy for all: the victim, the handler who fears the worst for his dog, and the dog who never should have been put in this position. It is also a tragedy for all properly trained and legitimate service dogs, and evidence of an increasing issue as more people turn to fake certificates to keep their untrained “service” or “support” dogs by their side.

In my last job, I experienced this first-hand. A “service dog” puppy whose vest was ordered online by a co-worker who just wanted his dog to come to work with him. And a mother of a severely autistic son scammed by a disreputable organization putting untrained dogs and their humans at great risk for financial gain.

Porsche is another example.

She was surrendered to us, fake certificate included, as a failed emotional support dog. Porsche was loved, but she was done a huge disservice.

Adopted at 3.5 months of age, she had clearly not been well-socialized. She was afraid of strangers and men in particular, was terrified of the leash, did not get along well with other dogs in her personal space, and probably spent the majority of her life in a cacooned existence.

Having developed her own anxieties, she was sent to “therapy” herself before being surrendered to us.

Porsche was never set up for success, failing even the most basic requirements of a service dog established by Assistance Dogs International.

Spring was just arriving as our team worked to get her to be comfortable being leashed, and to untuck her tail.

With summer around the corner, she is finally exhibiting some dog-like behaviors.

Porsche still has a ways to go, but inside this girl is a dog longing to be loved by someone willing to expand her world and show her the joy of being a true canine companion.

Today, she runs with exuberance,

attends carefully selected play groups, walks well on a leash, and – if you are one of her privileged few – comes just close enough to welcome a belly rub.

At a minimum, a service dog requires structure, training, and proper preventative health care.
But for their service and success, they deserve more: socialization for a strong foundation, respect for their ability to be a dog when not working, and our support when needed to be both emotionally and physically fulfilled.