dog rescue – Page 3 – Gardens For Goldens

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.

What Rescue Is

“Hi. We are interested in rescuing a Golden Retriever. Any suggestions?”

I have to bite my tongue when I get these messages. What this well-intentioned person means is that they want to adopt a rescued dog. Hurrah for them! The world needs more good people willing to give an abandoned, surrendered or rescued dog a home. They are a critical part of the effort. Rescue does not work without them. So I keep my thoughts to myself – except here, of course.

There’s a saying that rescue is not a verb; it’s a promise. I have quoted it. But the truth is that rescue is both a verb and a promise.

Rescue is the person who waits three days in a field for a dumped dog that she does not know and is twice her size to come close enough to leash. That dog needs to feel her intention and trust. It’s a risky leap of faith for both.

Rescue is the man who sees two chained dogs in the freezing mud of winter without shelter or clean water and knocks on the person’s door to persuade them to surrender the dogs ensuring that they both have a real chance at life.

Rescue is the person who convinces an addict who cannot help himself to allow help for his dog before it falls prey to the threats and ill intentions of others.

Rescue is the people who walk into a shelter to bring dogs to safety knowing they can’t save them all.

Rescue is the people who report the horrors of puppy mills, hoarding, abused animals, and overseas dog meat markets – and those that follow to shut them down and bring the animals to safety. What they witness can never be forgotten.

Rescue is the heartbreak of losing a hard-fought battle and coming back again – because you have to try.

Rescue is the people who show up without pay to transport, feed, bathe, heal, comfort, care for and help prepare a dog for the family interested in adopting a rescued dog.

And rescue IS the adopter who brings home a rescued dog that others have passed over time and again because they are too old or too sick or too much of a special need.

Like the woman who took home 13-year-old Holmes this weekend (right) because she learned he had been waiting since February. He was not the dog she came looking for, but he was the dog she felt needed her most.

Rescue is hard work. It is sometimes heartbreaking. It changes you. And it could not be more rewarding.

Rescue is a verb. And a promise.

Outtakes

The last puppy is home! Garrett stayed with us for an extra week until his new mom came back from her vacation.

He was a joy to have. Smart. Funny. Playful. Sweet. A bit of a baby who gained some much-needed confidence with the big boys away from his littermates.

He has taken to his new family like water…forgetting all about us like yesterday’s news!

The thermometer topped out at 106 so the weeds were allowed to continue their march. Relative cool returns tomorrow and so will I to uproot the blasted Bermuda grass and free the sizzled garden.

Fifteen dogs are on their way to us, but the lull this week was lovely. After submitting my last work project on Friday, I started organizing old photo files. For the website, we look for a direct eye contact and a happy face. Looking into a dog’s eyes is where people first fall in love. But it is the outtakes that warm my heart and truly capture their personalities.

The brat…

The faker…

The “I thought I saw a kitty cat!”…

The joker…

The “I am safe” look…

And you name this one!

Somehow my teammates managed to get 11 dogs home this week before adopters passed out from the heat. All are special, but a few are especially so.

Casey lived such a sheltered life that he attached too strongly to his mom to the point of fearing all others—including her husband. The situation became impossible. His whole life was uprooted when he was surrendered to us. He gradually accepted a select few into his inner circle; their job was to expand his circle and help him learn how to adapt to new people and surroundings. His adopter has traveled two hours each way to visit him weekly and earn his trust. This week, our team will transport Casey to her so his transition to home is as smooth as possible.

Blackie is the other half of Blondie and Blackie.

These 10-year-old Shih Tzu mixes came to us through a volunteer when their human dad could no longer care for them. We thought they would be gone in a heartbeat, but two videos and one special appeal later, only Blondie had been adopted. They adapted surprisingly well as little dogs in a big dog rescue, but home is where they both belong. Another volunteer took Blackie home this week and will be flying him to his mother who has been searching high and low for a boy just like him.

Little Libby has a fan club. She was dumped in a field in Southern California mostly blind and deaf and covered in mats. She was picked up by animal control and taken to a high-kill shelter. Imagine the terror. She could not stop whimpering. A campaign was launched to secure her release and she was ultimately transported to us where she received good care and medical attention; still, she was inconsolable. Which made her the perfect candidate for our well-known dognapper who scooped her up and quickly became a foster-failure. Libby is now home.

Not a Golden Retriever in the mix and we couldn’t care less. All are deserving of a second chance and a place called home.

From Feral to Family: River

I first met him on an early spring morning. Arriving before the feeders to tend to Daisy and her puppies, I happened to look down the shoot that runs between two large dog yards. In the walkway was a pacing, nervous black dog who looked ready to bolt.

He had been living feral on the river for who knows how long. It took animal control a month to catch him. When lures failed, they resorted to a catch pole. It ensures safe handling for the human, but it is certainly traumatic for the dog.

He would have been impossible to keep at a shelter. Teeth bared in utter terror, he would not let anyone near. Thankfully, he came to us. He was having nothing to do with a collar or leash after the catch pole. So he was lured into an outside enclosure within a large yard for the night. Or so we thought. He had worked the door clasp until he found his way out of the enclosure and leapt over the eight-foot fence. Clever one. Fortunately, he picked the wrong side of the yard and landed in the shoot instead of onto the fenced property where he certainly would have repeated his dash to freedom. In the narrow passage, he couldn’t get enough distance and speed to hoist himself over. He was waiting for someone to come along, not notice him there, and open the gate so he could shoot past them to make his escape. Instead, we cornered him with x-pens and walked him back into the enclosure. This time, with a lock. I don’t think he ever forgot or forgave me.

We named him River. You could see the fear in his face.

It took weeks to get a collar and leash on him and many more to get him into the kennels.

Thankfully, the weather was fine. During this time, he made a tight group of human friends who very gradually earned his trust. He never counted me among them. But it doesn’t stop my appreciation for this magnificent boy.

He made dog friends. That too, took a little time but he craved canine companionship – and one in particular: another of our rescues, a dog named Roo.

One look…and the games were on!

If there was water and mud, so much the better!

With gnashed teeth and snorts, it sounded like warriors doing battle. But they delighted in each other’s play while Roo and others showed River, by example, that humans were OK.

Had he ever been in a home? Would he feel comfortable or claustrophobic? Would he escape when given the first chance? We knew nothing about him.

So a group of foster friends took him out for day trips and sleepovers. It helped us to see that River was finally ready to accept love and find happiness living the life of a beloved family dog.

And so, after a year, it was finally River’s day. While we were preparing to post him to the website, one of our volunteers scooped him up instead.

The best part? This very special dog will visit often and stay connected to our Homeward Bound family – not to mention, Roo.

From feral to family. Made possible by an incredible group of volunteers and supporters without whose help we would not be able to give a dog like River all the time he needed to be ready for home.

Happy life, sweet boy. Well done, team!

Additional photo contributions courtesy of Rob Kessel.

A Promise for Life

There are no promises made to the plant members of the Homeward Bound Memorial Garden. We get everyone off to the right start and visit twice a week, but beyond that, they are on their own.

If they can’t cut the clay soil, low water, and valley heat and cold then we just acknowledge that it was not meant to be and part friends.

If they are bossy and bully their neighbors, they will find themselves kicked to the curb. Everyone has to place nice here or be banished.

The dogs of Homeward Bound are a completely different story.

When a dog enters our program, we make a promise to them of food, shelter, care and help in finding a forever home that is matched to their needs. For those that cannot be adopted due to special needs, we provide sanctuary. Our promise is for life. If, for any reason, the dog cannot remain in its adoptive home, we require that it be returned to Homeward Bound. None of our dogs should be passed around or, heaven forbid, left in a shelter.

And so it was that Bodie rejoined us at the age of 15. He had been adopted 14 years ago as Shadow. His human dad is also in his golden years and now needs as much help as Bodie who was unable to walk. Dad was headed to assisted living, so Bodie was welcomed back by us.

Bodie was unsure of how he got to this place again – and not too happy about it, at first. He was either unable or unwilling to stand and went to great pains to even prop himself in a sitting position. But what a smile this boy has!

A trip to the vet and a week later, Bodie is a different dog. He scored the coveted ‘office dog’ spot where he is surrounded by company all day. By the end of the week, this dog that would not move was going for walks!

He has perfected the “please take me out” look. While most dogs get one or two walks between feedings, I spotted Bodie out four times on Saturday – each time with a different walker.

He has some lumps and bumps that we will keep an eye on, but at 15, we are mainly focused on finding the perfect home where a retired boy can rest his head and be spoiled rotten. And when we do, Homeward Bound will see to his medical needs for all the days of his life.

A promise made. A promise kept.

Don’t tell the garden plants. They’ll be jealous.

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.

All In A Day

All in a day…

A motley duo transformed and made as beautiful on the outside as they are within.

A one year old boy is surrendered, and then reclaimed because his people could not be without him with the understanding that a dog is a member or the family and a promise is a promise. Kids (human or canine) take time to grow up. Patience, perseverance and consistency are the keys. You get out what you put in.

Three Golden girls were spared a life of puppy-making and will, instead, enjoy a life of love and play.

A good Samaritan went out of his way (and wallet) to convince a neglectful and abusive owners to sell him the dog they left chained in the yard.

Before bringing him to us, he took the unbelievably trusting and forgiving Labby boy to the river and showed him that good people do care.

Three grateful Goldens saved from the streets (or worse) traveled more than 6,000 miles to begin a new life.

Three masquerading teeny tiny tots made their way to our Golden Retriever rescue (and my foster home)

because our favorite breed is rescued.

And one hundred and twenty roses were pruned and prepped for a new season thanks to the best-ever gardening crew (only a few are captured here).

Countless little miracles – all in a day.
Find your passion and jump in. Even the muddy water is fine.

Out of the fog

The world gets smaller in winter.
As the mist clears, tiny details emerge.

For a dog with seizures, the world can feel very small, indeed.
Scary, uncontrollable moments followed by a fog.
Most humans find them hard to handle.
It is easy to withdraw.
New diets and medications can make a world of difference –
but the most important ingredient is love.

Daisy is a seizure dog. To look at her you would never know.

Her person is drawn to these special dogs and has become quite the mentoring expert to others.

Rocky and Nalah were recently surrendered for their seizures.

We found them people who understand and accept these episodes as merely details of their special souls.

Among the muted greys and browns of winter –

Startling colors emerge.

Out of the fog –
A whole new life appears.

New Beginnings

The first time I saw Spice, she was cowering under her Kuranda dog bed in the tiny space between it and the floor. Her leash was attached, and would remain that way for some time as she was impossibly shy and would bolt when approached.

She was part of a group of dogs surrendered from a breeder. At one year of age, she had no idea what it meant to live inside or with people. All she knew were other dogs and the safety of a single pen. Her evaluation said “frightened; shy; no idea what to do with a toy; has had no socialization to people; best to go to a home with other dogs.”

She made tiny baby steps forward with select human friends going ever so slowly in the hopes that she would learn to trust.

It can happen, but in the kennel environment, it takes much longer.

Lisa is one of team leads. She has a very special way with the dogs; part dog whisperer, part “let’s go!-er.”

Where others coddle, Lisa confidently expects. She sizes up a dog and when she believes it can do more, somehow, it starts believing it too. She was the first to get a collar on our once feral, River.

At one year of age, he had been living along the river’s edge for who knows how long. Finally captured with a Ketchall, the animal control pole, he wanted nothing to do with anything going over his head or around his neck. A collar and leash were his ticket out of the outside enclosure to indoor comfort. Thankfully, he arrived in the late spring when the weather was good.

Lisa earned his trust enough to allow his face to be pet, starting from the nose. When she sat with him to do this, he would close his eyes. One day, during this session, she waited for his eyes to close and just slipped on the collar. He could have backed out as he had done with so many others, but he allowed it. Perhaps it was the fluidness of her gesture or her sheer determination that caught River off guard, but on the collar went and so began his rehabilitation.

So it was no surprise that Lisa packed up our shy girl and brought her home. There, big Golden teddy bear Dakota could guide her

and little Kiki could help her to be brave.

They were joined by Mamacita and Babycakes—two Chihuahuas that were dumped in the fields near the rescue and wormed their way into Lisa’s heart (and car) as pretend fosters