Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue – Page 9

Finally Fall

The rain came – and with it fall. Finally, fall.

Signaled by merry frogs,

and colored by asters,

sage,

and Maria’s festive decorations.

We caught the tail end of the horrible storm wrecking havoc in the Pacific Northwest. The best part. Even the poppies are reborn with cooler weather and a fresh drink.

I’ve been hard at work on the creation of a new bed: an extension of our entry way gardens to replace a section of weedy grass and surround Jody’s beautiful metal tree – adorned with the dog tags of those who have come this way on their journeys home.

What is now:

What will be:

In the wind and rain, we even managed a few adoptions – including Sara – now renamed Breezy, and aptly so! She got lost – and no one found her. That won’t happen again.

I also had a visit from the one who got away – actually, the one that my Jackson passed up in favor of his new brother Yogi: Faith.

We have learned that her Megaesophagus (her inability to eat normally, which I wrote about here) is the result of a larger issue: Centronuclear Myopathy (CNM) – an inherited disease in Labrador Retrievers which causes loss of muscle tone and control, exercise intolerance, and an awkward gait. It generally appears between two and five months. We noticed it in Faith and her sister as they approached six months on walks – and then at play. Their legs began to shake and then simply gave way. With a rest, they are soon back at it. But their bodies won’t develop the muscle tone of a typical dog – thus her very elongated look and goofy movements.

It has been prevalent since the 1970’s – and frustratingly, is 100% preventable by simply testing the breeding parents to determine if they carry the gene. As usual, education is the key – so spread the word. Thankfully, she and her sister have the best care with Cassandra, the world’s best mom.

Fall is magnificent – too long in coming,

and too short in staying.

Maybe that is what makes it my favorite season.

Wordless Wednesday: Rosie’s Going Home Day

Magical

I took a little breather last week for a girls’ weekend in Sedona, Arizona.

It is beautiful country – magical, really.

Its towering sandstone formations glow red and orange against breathtaking sunrises and sunsets.

At night, the stars fill the blackened sky.

But gardening in that dark red, desert clay? While I think I’ll pass on that challenge, what blooms from the desert appears even more beautiful for the hardships it has triumphed over –

not unlike one of our newest arrivals, twelve-year-old Jake.

When I saw the blackened skin stripe on his back, I admit – I feared the worst. But it is actually all that remains of a horrible skin condition that stripped all the fur from his body.

I’ll spare you the “before” photos, but thank the Wine Country Animal Lovers and the Calistoga Vet Clinic for the miracle they performed.

Jake is with us now, for as many sunrises and sunsets as we are blessed with. The neglect that caused this condition, his worn down teeth, and his lumps and bumps is over. His new soft coat and his sweet disposition are appreciated all the more for what he has overcome. He’s magical, really.

Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

Who’s the fairest of them all?

If these two bear a remarkable resemblance, it’s not a coincidence. I wrote about our foster, Yona, last week.

He’s soon to be a foster-failure. Having earned our Jackson’s full endorsement,

he will become an official member of our family on Tuesday, with a new name: Yogi.

The stunning beauty who looks so much like him is his sister, Lottie.

They went to separate families as puppies but came back to the breeder at roughly the same time for the same offense: cute puppy grows into adult, rambunctious, dog.

Lottie, like Yogi, has separation anxiety – although her case seems to be a bit more severe. To help her through it, she’ll have two very experienced dog people, one of whom is home most of the time, and two canine companions, Beau and Milo.

She’ll be living in Lake Tahoe with plenty of activities to wear her out. And what they say is true: a tired dog is a good dog!

We’re looking forward to mini reunions and future play dates at the lake or in the snow. Happy life, Lottie! You’re in very good hands now.

Wordless Wednesday: Joey (The Lion)

Yona

Yona. An unusual name for a dog. In Hebrew, it means “dove.”

Returned to a rural breeder with the familiar story: cute puppy becomes one-year-old dog with one-year-old dog energy and enthusiasm. The breeder was responsible and ensured that any of her pups would come back to her, if necessary. But her life had changed in unexpected ways and Yona was more than she could handle.

He is insecure and hugs a leg on walks – all 70 beefy pounds of him – until a squirrel comes along and all hell breaks loose. Unaccustomed to car, bikes, and strangers, he is anxious and on alert. He bears scars and scabs on his neck, most likely from the kind of shock collar used for electronic fences in the country. A note in his file says that he has separation anxiety. He is never more than a few feet away – clearly starved for attention.

Having given the signal that our Jackson needed company after the loss of our Bella, and that my husband and I, too, could be ready for Jackson’s sake – the call quickly followed. Bring Jackson to meet Yona.

At first blush, the age difference seemed too great; his size – too large. But Yona, the dove, surprised me. Jackson and Yona played for nearly two hours in the large park at Homeward Bound, with our eight-year-old boy more than holding his own.

So I loaded them in the car for a foster try-out. Back at the house, they crashed together.

And Yona – the country, outside dog, quickly took to the comforts of home.

Play followed in the evening. They slept – apart at first, and then together on the bed (leaving little room for humans!). And in the morning – wrestle mania exploded throughout the house. Why does boy dog play involve so much gnashing of teeth and humping?

https://vimeo.com/181402681

He is just a giant puppy, really. After a couple of days, his surprisingly good house manners are showing truer colors. He hops onto the window sill to see out, he puts his paws on the counter, he brings a pillow to me as if to say: “I could. I really could!”

Testing the separation anxiety, the boys were left for first five minutes, then ten, thirty, and an hour. No issues. But when I took Jackson for a walk and left Yona behind – the crying began. We’ll keep testing and working on it, ensuring that he is well worn out first, and making no big deal of comings and goings.

Meanwhile, they are testing each others’ boundaries – and Jackson definitely knows how to draw the line. But with an advantage of nearly seven years and twenty plus pounds on our boy, we just want to be sure that Yona doesn’t squish or thoroughly exhaust Jackson. Three days in, Jackson is definitely feeling his age.

It’s not just how dogs play that makes a good match – it’s how they settle, as well.

I was feeling pretty guilty bringing such a young and handsome pup home for a tryout. By looks alone, he is the type of dog that many adopters hope for. The puppy stuff is normal. But he definitely needs training and patience to help him become a more confident boy and a far better walker. And just maybe, a more mature dog could help to show him the way.

Wordless Wednesday: Madison

The Boys: Together Forever

I absolutely love these boys. But then, so do all of the volunteers at Homeward Bound.

They are the quintessential Goldens – loveable, huggable, and Velcro.

I wrote about Max and Felix a couple of weeks ago. Their humans tragically perished together. It’s hard enough for us to suffer the loss of our dog companions. Imagine how confused and lost ten-year-old dogs feel to lose their humans.

Rumor had it that there was an adopter on the horizon. When that fell through, I forced my husband to bring our Jackson out to see if they might be a foster match (not so secretly hoping we would be foster failures). Jackson has been sorely missing his canine sister, Bella. At the very least, I hoped we could provide Max and Felix with a place to wait in comfort, while providing some companionship for Jackson.

Our boy gets along with everyone, so it was not surprising that there were no issues. But there were no sparks, either. No connection. If anything, Jackson was a little nervous around Max while hanging a little closer by Felix. Not quite willing to give it up, I reintroduced them and supplied photo proof that they could at least eventually settle down together.

My husband relented and agreed to foster them, but the concession came too late. Or maybe not. Had they been home with us, they would not have been seen by a young couple who came in that same morning looking for a dog. No particular dog. No particular gender. Young or old. Golden or mix. It didn’t matter. Just a good dog. They found not one – but two. Once they laid eyes on Max and Felix, it was a done deal.

And I wasn’t even around to get the photo! With thanks to my friend and fellow blogger, Rob of “Rob & Dog”, I present Max and Felix’s going home photos!

What good people to open their hearts and home to two very bonded brothers whose lives had been turned upside down.

My husband was probably correct in believing that Max and Felix would not be Jackson’s forever dogs. We know what a true connection looks like for him when we see it. It begins with a play bow and doesn’t end until both are exhausted.

We’ll find it. Eventually.

As for Max and Felix – tragedy brought them to us. But we send them home – together and forever – as promised, with all our love.

Happy (long) lives, boys. We are all going to miss you.

White

White is so cooling in a garden, especially on very hot summer days.

White offers a place for the eyes to rest – a break from all the hot yellows, oranges and reds of an August garden.

White dogs are just as cool in the garden –

or elsewhere.

The come in all shapes and sizes,

offering up their love,

affection,

or just a helping hand.

One white dog had an especially sweet “going home” this weekend – turning her seventh birthday into her first “gotcha day.”

Earned after years of birthing puppies, and currently recovering from double knee surgery,

Olivia has found her forever home.

White. A color without hue…

but plenty of heart.

Wordless Wednesday: Laughing Lucy

A Tale of Faith and Hope

Once upon a time, there were two tiny sister puppies born with faulty eating instruments. The odds were stacked against them, but a fairy godmother intervened and said: “we can help.” They were named Faith and Hope.

Hand fed and held upright, they put the naysayers to shame and thrived. Sisters bonded through adversity, they developed a deep love.

In a little blind puppy, they found a kindred spirit and formed the three pupsketeers.

They were inseparable – and inexhaustible.

As their little bodies grew, so did their mighty play, draining the life out of their fairy godmother. When offers of adoption came first for one –

and then the other,

they were gladly accepted.
Leaving only one.

Little green-eyed Faith came back to stay with a foster godmother (me) until her adoptive family could be found.

We thought we had it, but then we didn’t. It was something about the right dog at the wrong time.

So said her foster godmother, as well. Although she loved the little girl very much, she had made an important promise to her big dog who had even bigger needs at the time.

So little Faith went to stay with her sister – now named Sophie, and her sister’s handsome (but puppy-annoyed) big brother, Jasper, loved by yet another foster godmother, Cassandra.

Only Cassandra was not so much “foster” as she was “mother.” You see, Cassandra was a “foster failure”; not just once – but twice – having fostered, and then adopted, both Sophie and Jasper. She pleaded: “I can help; let me help.”

The bonds of siblings of eight or nine weeks are one thing; but three, four, five and nearly six months of age? Well, that’s something else.

Each time the girls were reunited, their best happiness was evident to all who looked closely.

And now it is official. A match set.

And Cassandra’s foster failure record is thrice, as it was always meant to be.

Faith and her sister Sophie will live happily-ever-after together – and a grateful Jasper will get some much deserved puppy-free time!

And that is the story of two little sisters whose fate might have been otherwise except for two powerful words: faith and hope.

The end. And the beginning.

My Summer With Bella

I read, with sadness and empathy, the stories of the people or their companions that I have befriended here as they journey through terminal illness. I am privileged to share in their passage, however painful, and to support them as best I can. Yet, I have not been able to write about my own journey with my beloved Bella.

Maybe it is because I am a private person. Or perhaps it is because I’m told that my happiest stories help to lift others’ spirits. God knows that we could all use a little of that. More likely, it is because – by writing about it – it would become all too real.

My Bella had cancer. Inoperable, and, despite all efforts, incurable.

My only requirement through treatments: that she be happy, no matter how unhappy I was for her.

And when she stopped being happy – of just being Bella – then it was time.

Today, it was time. After a long and difficult night, she looked at me and said “no more drugs, no more doctors, no more.” And my heart is breaking – for her, and her “brother” Jackson who will be lost without her.

Nine is too young. She got robbed. But still, nine was rich, and full, and wonderful.

My first rescue dog from Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue – a Golden puppy. A rarity in rescue.

And while an adult dog comes with so many blessings, there is nothing like the bond created through potty training, sleepless nights, and half eaten walls – something she never quite grew out of.

Always in trouble from the start, she was smart and willful.

She did everything with complete abandon,

whether it was catching a ball or guarding the backyard from marauding squirrels. So it should be no surprise that her tumor would first appear as a Grade 3.

As a puppy, she was always busy. She could never settle at night. So I would curl up with her on the dog bed and whisper quietly to her while gently stroking her leg and paw until she fell asleep; a ritual that still works – even today.

I left my job a month after her diagnosis. Not because of it, but maybe because I was meant to have this time with her. Without it, her day would have come much sooner. So many appointments and medications and special instructions. I could never have managed it with work. It bought us some time to prepare, accept, and appreciate all the more.

My summer with sweet Bella was a precious gift of time and love. And today – of departure.

Fly free sweet girl. And say hello to Pookie, Bear, Tribble and Valentino.
You are so loved.