Category: Rescue

Getting Our Feet Under Us

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.

Shedding the Past

The garden was thick with fog this morning – too wet to do any real work in the ground. So I set about removing the last of the apples from our little orchard.

This used to be the work of a dog named Bones.

With lumps and bumps and infected ears that left him deaf, he was left tied to a tree and abandoned. When he was finally found, he was literally skin and bones. Rescued and made well again, he was a favorite of our volunteers.

Despite his poor treatment, he was full of trust and love for all people.

He visited the garden daily, but his favorite was fall when the apples were ripe. He would pick them off the tree as he passed –

a joy that continued long after he was adopted until he passed recently. His people wrote to share the news. “Every day, he had a short walk and enjoyed an apple. He had an apple the day he died. Bones loved everybody and everybody loved him. He brought so much joy to our lives, thank you for letting us adopt him. He will be missed every day, he made such an impact on our lives.”

Photo Courtesy: Rob Kessel

Now Frida, the garden cat, keeps watch over me and the apple trees.

Dogs have an amazing capacity to shed their past and move on. On Thanksgiving, I went to the garden and rescue planning to spend a few hours getting the tulip bulbs planted and doting on the seniors. I wanted to get a photo, as well, for the kennel card of the dog that arrived the previous night: Duke.

A pet can offer true benefits to a person living with dementia: companionship, reduced anxiety and agitation, an excuse to get exercise, and increased socialization among them. But when the person lives alone and can no longer cope, it’s important for others to step in. Duke came to us when his human dad could no longer cope. Sadly, it took a human emergency for someone to come to his aid.

This boy was literally covered in mats the size of small animals from his neck to his tail. The weight of them, and his curled toenails, made it nearly impossible for him to walk. His tail had disappeared in a long, flat, felted mess to the ground. The pain of these things tugging at him and bending under him must have been terrible. And the filth and stink: oh my.

Before he could be bathed, he had to be freed. With clippers in hand, we set about the task.

It can be risky to put a dog you don’t know through such an ordeal but Duke sat patiently as we uncovered the body beneath and clipped away the petrified nails. He didn’t show that he needed a pause so we kept going. Did we read something into his look? It seemed like he was grateful.

After the ordeal, we took him to a yard to relieve himself. The boy that could not walk suddenly ran and danced – with joy.

A bath removed years of dirt and smell and made him shine.

Amazingly, our vet found nothing that quality food, regular exercise, and good grooming wouldn’t cure. He will get lots of that now as he is in a loving home.

Duke has a new job now: bringing joy and laughter to a home that had been filled with sadness over the departure of too many beloved dogs.

This decline did not happen overnight – to the man or his dog. It is the toll of human aging that we see too often. Duke shed his past and has moved on. His Thanksgiving began when he took the first gleeful step toward a much happier future. Hopefully, his person has found his way forward too.

Needless to say, the tulips did not get planted that day.

Noelle: Our Christmas Joy

A Good Samaritan saw her stray and shivering in the rain and mud. She was frightened, emaciated, and would not come. Animal control was called. A catch pole was used; something that can be terrifying to dogs but life-saving when there is no other option.

She was covered in mats and filth, and it was obvious that she had recently had puppies. There was no sign of them. It’s unclear if she was turned out after weaning them, or had simply wandered off. She is a Great Pyrenees mix. Working Pyrenees tend to be treated like livestock: valued for their natural instincts as protectors of their land or flock, but not valued like family. No one came looking for her.

In the shelter, she would not have stood a chance. Our area coordinator scooped her up and she was transported to Homeward Bound. It seems like every year around the holidays, we are gifted with a very special dog in need. Noelle was our Christmas blessing.

Her large mats were removed. She was bathed. She was seen by our vet. And then she received a professional shave to give her the fresh start she needed and deserved.

We expected that she would be with us for a little while. While her demeanor is affectionate, sweet, and surprisingly trusting given what she has endured, we know that it can be difficult to see through a rail-thin body and shaved coat to the dog within.

We were wrong.

Brad grew up with Homeward Bound through his mother’s work with us. He has a huge heart for dogs in need. He and his wife, Karissa, recently lost their Golden girl. They had been coming to meet dogs but had not yet made a heart-connection. They knew it would be clear when the right match came along. And it was.

They fell head-over-heals in love. She needed them. And they needed her. The first thing they told her: “Someone didn’t love you enough.” That is solved. Noelle is home, and now, she is our shared Christmas joy.

Dogs like Noelle find hope for second chances and forever homes through Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue & Sanctuary. If you can help, please make a gift in honor or in memory of your special someone on our virtual Giving Tree. Your donation supports hundreds of dogs like Noelle on their journeys to safety and home each year. Either way, visit the tree and scroll down to read the heartfelt messages – delivered in the true spirit of the season.

Wishing you safety, health, happiness, and forever homes. Love, Ogee.

The Lab Lift

Behind human failing—due to health or incapacity—you can often find animal suffering. This was the case behind a recent large-scale rescue.

In Oregon, a backyard breeder struggled to care for his wife with dementia. I don’t know if the situation was ever better than we found it but things had obviously gotten out of control long ago. When he passed, there was no one to care for the dogs or the other animals on the property. A plea for help went out. Our team responded, arranging for extra transport to bring all 19 beautiful Labrador Retrievers to safety.

It was the largest single intake of adult dogs in our history (I believe) and a monumental task for our volunteers and our devoted vet, Dr. Codde.

All but two had been kept in outdoor kennels without protection from the elements. They weren’t abused – but they were neglected. It was impossible to know how many litters some of the girls had birthed and weaned.

They had probably never seen a vet or had a dental, much less a bath. The food clearly went to expecting girls. The rest were rail thin and all were full of worms, fleas, and filthy ears.

They had never known collars or leashes and were terrified at first not knowing our intentions. As Labs do, they showed remarkable resilience. With one exception, they were well-socialized to other dogs. Maybe it was the cookies and food, but they pretty quickly figured out that humans were okay to be around, too.

Baths and vet exams took all day long. Deworming, dentals, skin treatments, pedicures, and spay and neuters were in store. Minnie appears to have had the most litters. We had to remove her teeth and we found mammary cancer. We removed that too, but it has metastasized and will return at some point.

Georgia’s ear was so badly diseased that we had to perform a TECA (Total Ear Canal Ablation) – removing the ear canal. She is recovering well.

The rest are now all in good health. Twelve are officially adopted and have adjusted beautifully.

Four are home as foster-to-adopt given their extreme shyness and their lack of experience living in a home. One, North, is waiting for his forever people to come and find him.

Here’s the thing. The neighbors had to know. Anyone who purchased a puppy had to know. How this was allowed to go on for so long is beyond us. How these dogs could be AKC-registered shows an appalling lack of oversight or concern by that organization.

Soap box time. This situation could have been reported and ended long ago providing help for the humans and the dogs. Neighbors could have intervened. Had anyone purchasing one of the hundreds of puppies produced by these dogs followed one simple step, the dogs’ circumstance might have been discovered.

When you purchase a puppy, please require that you be invited to meet the mother and puppies at the breeder’s home. See where and how the dogs are kept…inside! Learn how they are cared for and how the puppies are raised. Nothing short of raising these dogs as part of the family will do. For the breeding dogs, it ensures safety, health, and care. For the puppies, it means vital socialization and a healthy start to life.

All responsible breeders abide by and support this practice. Anyone who does not is likely running a puppy mill operation. Your support of them perpetuates dogs’ misery for years on end.

These 19 Labs will all have wonderful second chapters. Even Minnie.

Who knows what became of those who came before them.

Education saves lives. Please help others to understand the importance of this one simple practice. Need more information? Here is our guide to choosing a responsible breeder.

And here’s a look at their first experience with freedom.

Time Flies on Restless Pinions

Somehow it became December. Don’t ask me how.

The garden does not seem to know, but the neighbors’ Christmas lights are up and the rain they said would not come has arrived.

Muddy dogs are a sure giveaway.

It feels like we moved seamlessly from summer to winter. I would say that it has been unseasonably warm but I think we should stop saying that with climate change now increasingly knocking on our door. The garden is still full of color and wonder. Nature snuck in the beauties of fall.

One beauty was missed here. There were plans for a guest blog to remember a very special person and devoted volunteer. The words never came—perhaps too hard to find—leaving the impression that her memory belonged to only a few. That’s not the case. She was loved and is remembered for her good and tender soul, and for her devotion to the dogs. Be among your fellow angels, Debbie, and watch over us all.

My husband and I are on foster puppy number fifteen of the year. Perhaps that is where the year went.

Her name is Daisy.

She is perfect but someone didn’t think so. Purchased too young, they must have missed her hairy eyeball. When they realized it, she was thankfully was surrendered to us. We suspect we know where she came from originally and would not want to see her back there. She is home with me and my husband at Camp Yogi in preparation for becoming a one-eyed pirate.

It suits her since she belches and snores like a drunken sailor. And she has a forever mom anxiously awaiting her arrival who, too, thinks she is absolutely perfect.

There is so much to catch you up on. I will try to be better and get there amazing stories to you in the next few weeks. We can start with Heidi.

Out of the corner of their eye, passersby saw her in a ditch as they sped by. A neighborhood alert went out and a good Samaritan went out looking for her. Spotted hiding in a huge blackberry bramble, she was too scared to come to him. She ate and drank the food and water he left. He repeated this act for five days hoping to earn her trust. It was ridiculously hot. Failing all efforts, and sensing that her time was running out, he purchased a coyote trap. Two days later (with the help of bacon) she was caught. He whisked her to Homeward Bound where we were standing by. She was transported immediately to the vet where she was stabilized and underwent surgery for a broken leg and injured pelvis. After months of rehab, emotional and physical, this is Heidi now.

Their application said they needed a mellow, trained dog – relatively young. Behind the front desk, they met mellow, trained, lovable, affectionate, hilarious, and dog-cat-bunny-people-loving, sugar-faced, Rosie – 12 years old. They fell head over heels in love and took her home. You never know where your heart will lead you.

Weston had been dumped and was roaming and foraging in a remote, rural area. People put out food, but he was scared and uncatchable until a rescue team responded. He arrived covered in mats, malnourished, with skin, eye, and ear infections.

This is Weston today. He is in foster with hopes of an adoption. Paws crossed.

Monk is also 12.

When his owners left him at the vet and moved away, this adorable boy came to us. We removed as much of his cancer as we could. It may eventually come back but the reality is that old age will likely come knocking sooner.

Regan (in teal) is an amazing young girl who collects and delivers gifts for the dogs on her birthdays. This year, she left with a gift of her own and, in the process, gave a very special one to our deserving boy. Regan fell instantly in love; mom and dad said ‘yes,’ and Monk now has a forever home.

The seasons seem to pass so quickly now.

Maybe it is my age, or the time marked by so many memorable rescues.

“Time flies on restless pinions — constant never.” ~Friedrich Schiller

I will work to get caught up. There are stories to share, much-needed inspiring tales (and tails), and they should be remembered here.

Shasta’s Long Journey Home

My human dad raised me from a puppy. He loved me and I brought joy to his golden years. He was old and old school, and believed that dogs should be kept outside. So the yard was my world. My whole world.

I didn’t know anything different. I had everything I needed – until the day he was no longer there to care for me. Before he left this world, he needed to know that I was safe. So I was sent to Homeward Bound.

My world had been turned upside down and I had no idea why. You can see the look of sadness and terror in my face those first few days.

It was the first time that I slept inside. The yards are big, but my room was small. And I shared the dorm with other dogs. I knew nothing about other dogs and they scared me. So they would not sense my fear, I went on the offense. Loudly and ferociously.

I knew nothing of leashes and walks, so I pulled and tugged. When I came upon other dogs, or birds, or bunnies – I tried desperately to chase them. They called it prey drive. Apparently, it is not a desirable trait. All I wanted was to be with my human again in the safety of my small yard.

My first evaluation read like a horror story. So I was assigned homework. I don’t know if you believe in visitations, but I swear that my dad came to me one night in my dreams. He asked me to do one thing: try.

I worked very hard at becoming calm in the kennel. I became better at walking. And I worked on being less overbearing toward by dorm mates – inside and out. I was still running the fences with the dogs in the next yard, but now it was a game, not a threat.

I was sent for overnights, then weekends, and even weeks. They called it “foster.” It means a try-out. And I did great.

I jumped a fence and found myself with two other dogs and do you know what happened? Nothing. I did nothing.

I literally looked like a different dog.

I got adopted once; and returned. I was still too much dog, they said.

I saw dogs come and go. And come and go.

What I needed were humans who understood the heart of a dog who was most comfortable in a small world. A homebody who was happy with a homebody dog. Someone who could love me as I was – not the way they wished I would be. When I found them, I would give them my heart.

It took 266 days.

My name is Shasta and I am home.

I live inside.

I have a bed, a small, comfortable yard to call my own, and a special window to watch over it when I am not playing in it.

I have people who love me. They want to try to introduce me to some dog friends, but they are not in any hurry. Maybe when some time has passed and I have my confidence back. Or maybe never. They don’t care. They like me for me.

I hope my dad can see that I am OK now.

It was a long journey, but I am safe and I am loved. All I had to do was try.

A Legacy of Faith and Hope

From a certain angle, you would never know there is something different about these two girls.

To me, they could not be more special. As puppies, they set me on the path to puppy fostering.

Surrendered by a breeder, they both had a congenital abnormality called Megaesophagus. The esophagus – which connects the throat to the stomach – is enlarged and lacks the elasticity or motility required to move food and liquid down to the stomach. Unless gravity is employed, puppies vomit up their food and drink, lose weight, fail to thrive and often do not survive. They were fragile and adorable.

We named them Faith and Hope.

And after a brief time at the rescue, they came to stay with us. They were the first puppies that my Bella accepted.

All previous attempts at fostering failed quickly. But somehow, Bella knew that these puppies had a special need and she overlooked their foolish puppy ways and welcomed them home.

Hope was adopted by one of our volunteers with a heart for special needs dogs.

Faith stayed with me until a home could be found.

As a very young puppy, she was extremely active.

But I noticed that as she grew, she would often stop and refuse to move.

I carried her home on more than one occasion. I thought she was just being stubborn.

She was adopted by a lovely woman who had a special needs son herself. She was drawn to Faith for this reason. But Faith’s stopping continued creating a challenge that was more than the woman knew how to deal with.

By this point, my Bella’s own special needs were overwhelming. She was losing her battle with cancer.

So not long afer Faith was returned, she went to foster with her sister – now named Sophie – and her big brother, Jasper.

We all met up at puppy class,

and Cassandra and I looked at each other with alarm when – in the middle of play – both girls simply collapsed.

They said that it was normal for puppies to overdo – but we both knew it was more. It turns out that Faith and Sophie had another inherited concern: centronuclear myopathy or CNM. Muscle fibers do not grow normally. Dogs are unable to walk and exercise normally and are prone to collapse or locking up in heat or cold. It develops between six weeks and seven months; the result of poor breeding. What we were seeing was its progression.

So what did Cassandra do? She adopted them both!

Four years later, you can clearly see the muscle wasting from other angles,

but the dogs have thrived in their mom’s great care. I honestly don’t know where they would be without her.

They began their journey in Hello Kitty chairs

and now have grown up custom dog chairs that they back themselves into to eat and sit upright for an hour while gravity does its work.

Mom monitors their exercise in hot or cold – but mostly they all enjoy couch time and snuggles together. Homeward Bound ensures their medical care for life.

Once a year, when mom takes a much-needed and well-deserved break, the dogs come to stay with us. This week, I was on puppy duty anyway, so I gladly took on Faith and Sophie’s feedings as well. It is the very least I could do for a woman who opened her heart and home to these very special sisters.

Bella left us not long after Faith went to live with Cassandra. I reflect often on her unique acceptance of these two girls. I think she would be proud of the puppy-fostering legacy she began – with Jackson and Yogi giving others hope and faith that the will get the start in life they deserve.

P.S…my sincere thanks to the adoption team who managed to get Barley and Hops adopted today so I can leave on my trip to Yellowstone worry free!!

Camp Yogi: Temporary Closure

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.

Justice for Justice

She spent her life in an outdoor yard. So terrified of indoor enclosures was she that she broke through a window to avoid being confined.

Emaciated. Sick. She had to fight to protect what little food scraps she was given. A Great Pyrenees mix weighing in at only 58 pounds.

Her mouth partly paralyzed; who knows how many litters of puppies she had produced and what damage that had inflicted.

Used up, she was dumped. Two others were “coincidentally” found not far away; we suspect they were her offspring. Younger, they were spared from years of similar harsh treatment. The shelter staff named her Justice.

While the instinct was to surround her with love, she first had to be quarantined to ensure the safety of others. And then, the work of restoring her sense of self, safety, and trust would begin. Inside, was a surprisingly resilient and social girl.

That human beings can treat helpless animals with such callous disregard is a reminder of our capacity for evil.

That human beings can dedicate their lives and hearts to helping those abused and neglected find a path to a new and better life is a reminder of our potential for good.

We have seen both in the ways that humans treat each other these past weeks.

Justice would be to steal the freedom and dignity of her abusers as they stole hers. That is unlikely to happen. But renewal is found with the family who took her home today. With a huge yard where she can make herself at home, walks in the woods, and time at a family cabin and beach – Justice will be eased into the life of a loved family dog.

Today, the world was made right for Justice.

Blossoming

The gardening is waking up. After a long, wet winter and many false starts, there are signs everywhere signaling spring’s arrival.

But the bulbs and trees are not alone in their blossoming.

Sara is an adorable little black and white hot-dog of a puppy born in a field to her Golden mom. First noticed around Thanksgiving last year, a kindly neighbor began leaving out food for mom and her dwindling litter of pups. After several months, only Sara remained. She learned to stay close to mom and to be wary of everything. Survival instincts: finely-honed.

Mom started warming up to the neighbor woman. She had been someone’s dog once, and while distrustful at first, she took a chance in hopes of finding comfort and safety. When mom and baby could finally be caught, both were brought to Homeward Bound.

Initially, both were terrified. Mom started coming around after a bit, but baby Sara would not leave mama’s side. Our volunteers did an amazing job of coaxing them out of their shells, spending time with them and making them feel safe. One even fell asleep petting them in their kennel. Human touch is an amazing healer.

Baby Sara is somewhere between 5 and 6 months old. She stayed with mom long past the point when most pups strike out on their own. Mama was beyond ready to spread her wings and find her own future with a waiting family.

So baby Sara came home with me to spend some time at Camp Yogi and begin to learn about the world through the eyes of her foster friends.

It just about ripped my heart out to separate Sara from her mom, but we all knew it was the best thing for both.

There was some crying and whining, but she attached quickly to our dogs and to my husband and me. The hardest part was not coddling her. She didn’t need protection any more, she needed to gain confidence. She got together time and alone time. She got playtime and quiet time. She took to potty training like a pro, jumped into the bed like she owned it, and leapt right into our hearts. She was blossoming: playful and joyful and growing in her independence every day.

This weekend, she met a family of adults and their 18-month-old Lab, Harper. They had all been grieving the loss of their senior dog; Harper was feeling lost. Shy at first, we left Harper and baby Sara in the yard together and watched from afar. Baby immediately started following Harper around and Harper seemed glad for her company. The match was made. Baby left with a smile on her face and didn’t even turn back to say goodbye. On the ride home, she snuggled close to Harper. And the happy updates have been flowing ever since.

A lot of effort goes into planning for spring blooms.

You watch and wait, hoping it will pay off. When it does, it makes your heart soar.

Happy life, little Sara…the brightest flower of spring.

Forrest

There is a reason why gardeners are increasingly moving to native plants.
Unlike fancy hybrids, native plants are uniquely adapted to their landscape. Having developed over time, they are resilient and well-suited to the available soil, water, and sun or shade.

As a result, they thrive where others languish – providing valuable habitat to others.

Today’s designer dogs are much like plant hybrids. Mixed breeds combined in the hopes of a perfect mix of genetic traits. Bernedoodles are apparently the latest rage: a mix of Bernese Mountain Dog and Poodle.

Unfortunately, these designer dogs bred (and inbred) with limited gene pools by unscrupulous “breeders” run the risk not only losing the desirable traits of each breed but also inheriting health issues and undesirable traits from both sides. The result: Forrest.

Neurological damage. Inability to walk. One leg longer than the others. And seizures.

God may work in mysterious ways – but this is a man-made travesty.


Some would call it collateral damage. I call it a grave injustice.

If Forest’s heart could will his body to heal – it would be done.

This guy – with his tangle of legs and constant right turns – is bound and determined to get somewhere. We’re just not sure where.



It remains to be seen if we have a miracle for Forrest. But we will try.
For Forrest’s sake, help us spread the word. Let Mother Nature be.

She knows best.

The Charmed Life of a Garden Cat Named Frida

The north wind that blew in mid-month stayed. Spring is nothing if predictably unpredictable. We went from t-shirts to down jackets and mittens within 24 hours. While the overnight thermometer dropped below freezing for a week, it stayed close enough – thankfully – to have little impact on our opening blueberry and apple blossoms. And now, there is much-needed rain on the horizon. But today, we all soaked up the warm spring sun.

A butterfly (Mourning Cloak?) warming its wings on the stone path and accommodating bunny –


big dogs walking (not available – just visiting)…

Golden dogs lounging (spoken for!)…

And going-home dogs (hurrah for Clooney, Chubbs, and Bear!).



And this?

Not a dog! This is the illusive and rarely seen Frida – the garden cat. I spied her in the field next door alternately basking in the sun, hiding in the mustard weed, and stalking her prey.

We have a few cats at Homeward Bound. Most have to earn their keep as mousers or – like Tory – as our loyal cat-tester. (No cats are harmed in the testing of our dogs.)

But Frida lives a charmed life. After being spayed and vaccinated, she was returned to the garden where she reigns. For the longest time, we only saw fleeting glimpses of her or heard her scurry under the garden shed.


Lately, she has become bolder. Rob and I leave her food and clean water. She has a tiny cat house with a comfy bed in the shed and an igloo outside if she prefers to crouch and watch the world go by. She is a great hunter – which is why I gave up feeding the birds. And she clearly does not want for calories. Recently, she let me get within a few feet of her.

And today, she most definitely saw me stalking her with my camera and decided to pose.

In late afternoon, you might glimpse her circling the garden waiting for all of us to leave. I can just imagine her joy in solitude with only lizards, birds, and tiny mouse meals to contemplate.

Get cozy tonight, Frida girl. The rain will come. But the warm sunshine is sure to follow.