I am so sorry

Yesterday was a very bad day for rescue dogs.

I hate, gentle readers, I just hate to have to share this with you, but I feel it would be somehow dishonest not to.

Last evening, Matt called with the very sad news that Elsa/Shelby had died. She was undergoing her heartworm treatment (they had opted for the more gentle six month treatment, due to her heart enlargement) and things were going well. Then she came in season, only to find she had pyometra. They had no option but to do emergency surgery.

She seemed to be doing fine post op, but while she was still recovering at the vet's, she started to hemorrhage intra-abdominally (a common complication of pyo surgery) and had to have a second emergency surgery. Unfortunately, because her liver and kidneys were compromised from her malnutrition and/or the heartworm infection, she was unable to recover from the second surgery, going into multi system failure.

Molly and Matt were with her, and, after hearing the news from the vet that her situation was quite hopeless, they had just made the decision to end her suffering. Practically at that moment, Elsa simply laid her head down and stopped breathing. She probably had an embolism, or she maybe knew that it was OK to stop fighting and rest.

Please, dear readers, hold Molly and Matt, and Deb and Merle in your hearts. I pray those four good people are able to take significant comfort in the great good they did for this dog. Elsa/Shelby knew love and pampering and couches and sleeping in bed and good food and treats and play and more love. Dogs don't know time, but they do know love. And thanks to those good people, Elsa/Shelby knew an infinite love.

hug your precious hounds

Reunion!

Remember Elsa/Shelby/Elsa the starving rescue dog? Matt brought Elsa back this weekend to collect Molly (that's the sad part for us, but we're all very happy for Molly and Matt), and he brought Elsa's LARGE friend Roman, too. Roman is a neutered male Cane Corso, a type of Italian Mastiff. We all had a reunion at Deb and Merle's old house, and Elsa was so happy to see everyone! She'll take over from here.



I about turned inside out for Merle! That blur is my wagging tail. And yes, I am standing on my head.



Hi Deb! You still have treats? You do! Look how pretty I sit for you.



Yup, right there, Merle! You still got the touch!


Wheeeee! This is the hall I ran down all the time, Roman! Can't catch me!!!



He's rubbing ME now, my big slobbery friend! Wait your turn. Isn't my coat beautiful? And can you believe my muscles!




Pay no attention to the gigantic blue dog at your feet, Molly. I am SOOO glad we found you again. We must never ever lose you ever.



Here is my awesome, happy family. I have a family! No one can take it away. I am being the best dog in the world and I share with Roman and he's really kind of good company if you don't mind slobber, and I don't, and Molly and Matt love me and they are mine forever and I got to come say thank you to Deb and Merle and ... I wil never again look like when Deb and Merle found me

because I, Elsa Shelby Elsa have a family

and they love me

and I love them forever and ever

AMEN!!!





Elsa has been to her new vet at her new home, and has gained enough weight and is healthy enough to start her heartworm treatment. After she is all clear of heartworms, she can get spayed. And then, she can just be a happy, loved, loving dog.

It is purely a miracle.

hug your hounds, extra tight tonight!

Shelby is HOME, forever

Just in case this is your first ever visit to this blog, I'll give you Shelby's synopsis. Shelby was a dog who was found in our neighborhood in December, starving.
This was then:


Our two huge-hearted and dogless neighbors, Deb and Merle, took Shelby in, (much to the dismay of their three cats) and nursed her back from death's literal door. This was HUGELY heroic of them, as they were on the verge of putting their home on the market, and knew they would be moving into an apartment and could not have a dog. But they took her in.

We put out all kinds of notices, once Shelby gained weight and strength, thinking someone would want to give a perfect home to this heartworm positive, in need of a spay after the vaginitis is cleared up, sweetheart of a dog. But we didn't get a hint of a nibble, let alone a bite. The great gals of iList Paducah even made her the iDate of the Week, to no avail.

My adult niece Molly moved to my town last summer, temporarily. She'll be moving back east next month. When she came here, she missed her two dogs terribly. They stayed back east with her boyfriend. They are a boxer ("JD")and a Cane Corso ("Roman"- both neutered males) and though Molly loves the whippets, and they adore her, she is a big dog person. Molly melted at the first sight of Shelby. Many a day, I would pop over to see how Shelby was doing, and Molly was already there visiting with her. But, Molly lived in a no dog apartment, and that was that.

The days of Deb and Merle's generosity turned into weeks and then months and their move became imminent. And Merle's mom was having surgery on Tuesday. And then a Bad Thing happened. A man came into their home to visit, and Shelby took matters into her own paw. These folks had saved her life and she would defend them to the death and she did not like the looks of this fellow. He was uncomfortable around dogs anyway, and he didn't act right. A little shifty in her inexperienced eyes. So she gave him a little warning nip. Oh dear.

A Horrible Decision was made. I felt strongly that, after two months in a warm loving home, it would be beyond cruel to take Shelby to a shelter. The area shelters are filled, bursting, overwhelmed. People are losing their homes thanks to the mortgage crisis and are forced to move into pet free apartments. Families are blindly stumbling away from their bankrupt farms, fully stocked with animals. On a recent "Adoption Day" at the local Petsmart, there were more than fifty dogs in crates. Unneutered, sad, friendly, big, small, purebred, mixed, hairy, shorthaired, quiet, barking, I began to cry, right in the dog food isle. Dogs who were fine with men leaning over their crate, and squealing children poking their fingers through the wires. What chance did Shelby have, in need of heartworm treatment, socialization, training, and spaying? What on earth chance?

I called my kind, sweet vet who had been her hero and asked if she would. "Yes," she agreed. "Please don't take her to a shelter. It's horrible. I would rather do it kindly."

I called Molly. "I'm so sorry," I said. "We are simply out of time and options. Now we have a dog who has to undergo heartworm treatment, be spayed, and has put her teeth on a human. We'll take her tomorrow, if you want to see her tonight."

Did I mention that Molly is my niece? Our family has just a teeny streak of oh, let's call it um, stubbornness which shows up from time to time. A mulish tenacity. OK, we can be plain old pigheaded! Molly started making phone calls. The first excitement was that her boyfriend Matt agreed that Shelby could join their family. Could we find a foster home for a month until Molly moved back east? No. A ride with a rescue chain to Matt? I did not see how that could possibly be arranged in twenty-four hours. How would Shelby react to strangers reaching into her crate to take her out to potty along the route? Molly did not give up or give in. I said, "Molly, I have learned something in my fifty-three years. You do everything you can do, and if something is meant to be, it will be. But if you have done everything you can do, and you can't make a thing happen, it is the Universe taking control, and you need to be able to let go. Shelby has had more love in the last two months than some dogs get in a lifetime. We have to take comfort in that."

And then, like magic, my other line beeped. It was Merle. His brother could stay with their mom on Saturday, and he could drive half way with Molly. I clicked back over to Molly. The Universe had spoken, loud and clear! Everything lined up like happy quacking ducklings in a row following the grand mother Universe's perfect plan. Molly kept Shelby during the days so that Deb and Merle's home could be shown. Merle's mom's surgery went well. Shelby learned by leaps and bounds with Molly's obedience training. She met men and dogs on the sidewalks on walks and got rewards for her good behavior.

Molly and Merle and Shelby left at oh-dark-thirty on Saturday morning. They met Matt in West Virginia. Shelby thought Matt was cool beans and here's why. As she headed off in Matt's car, leaving the first people she had trusted in her life, he heard her getting restless in her crate. So he started singing "Elsa, Shelby, it's going to be ok," to the tune of "row, row, row your boat." What is not to love? And because sometimes feeling emotionally safe and comfortable is the most important thing, Matt let his new dog curl up on the front passenger seat for part of the trip, resting her big head on the console, being stroked by this new kind human in her life. She settled down, realising that though she had left the comfort of her Deb and Merle and Molly, she was with a Good Man.

I will miss Molly wickedly when she moves back east. I will absently pick up the phone a thousand times to tell her that Bill is making his sausage pasta and does she want to come on over, only to realise that it would be way too long a trip. I have treasured this time together. Clumsy at first, two adult women reacquainting, and then the new comfortable familiarity and genuine, glowing fondness. But now the sadness of her leaving will be offset by the tape playing in my heart and my mind.

Shelby's delight when her Molly comes home.

hug your hounds

Hot Hot Hot News!

Holy Cow how cool is this! We are extraordinarily fortunate in our little city to have an amazing Internet Calendar of Events, the brainchild of clever, clever, clever Mary Thorsby with the magic of web designer fantissimo, Nikki May. It's called iList Paducah and it comes out weekly and it's just awesome. (They are the ones who let me do the article about giving puppies for Christmas being a Bad Idea.)



Well, it just got more awesome. They do regular features, like iDine, (hey, Tanner and Joe Stains, it's about wine tasting this week), iLove it, and (drum roll) the iDate of the week. Every week they interview a local single person, from twenty-somethings to eighty-somethings. So why am happily, totally, thoroughly married I so excited about this week's iDate of the week?




BECAUSE THIS WEEK'S iLIST PADUCAH'S iDATE OF THE WEEK IS... (another drum roll, I love drum rolls)...

SHELBY THE MIRACLE DOG!!!!

(with her angels Deb and Merle)

The wonderful Nikki and Mary featured Shelby to help to find her perfect forever home. You can read the interview HERE. And if you all could take just a moment to leave them a comment how great they are for doing this for Shelby on Mary's blog just on any entry, it would mean a lot. (Mary has on occasion admitted to comment envy. We all know how that is. How wonderful if she heard kudos from folks all over for doing this cool thing for Shelby?)



If you haven't read about Shelby (who used to be Elsa) the starving dog found in our neighborhood, you can click HERE.


And thank you dear readers for all your prayers and good wishes.



Hug your hounds.

ADDENDUM: Kudos and thank you to Snoutbeagle, and Cara from Canada, and Dis for leaving a comment on the iList blog! When folks see how many people care about Shelby, that has to be a good thing! I never thought I'd say it, but don't leave a comment here. Please take just a moment to thank Mary and Nikki for helping Shelby HERE.
Thank you thank you thank you!

An Update on Shelby - you won't believe your eyes!

[If you came here looking for the funny story, click on "For Dog Lovers Only"]

Remember Shelby? (We called her Elsa at first.) She was found in our neighborhood, about (per our wonderful vet) twenty-four to forty-eight hours before she would have starved to death. Our most wonderful and dogless neighbors, Deb and Merle, have taken her in to foster her. The wire fox terriers in Florida, Jake and Just Harry's human Joan kindly asked how Shelby is doing.

Well....

Here she was in December:

And here she is last week:

She loves her cuz!

Deb made her a warm coat.

I think Deb and Merle are doing an awesome job. What do you think?

But we still must find Shelby's forever home. Deb and Merle have been beyond kind and generous, and I really want to help them. Ideally, Shelby's forever home would be someone with a huge heart who can help her through her heartworm treatment. Who wants to continue with Shelby's obedience training (she LOVES to learn), and who loves to play ball and Frisbee. Shelby is a big strong girl and her wagging tail can clear a table! Small children probably wouldn't stand a chance.

Any ideas? She is such a great dog.

Hug hour hounds.

Elsa Update

What a difference a week makes. Deb and Merle are working miracles with this dog, who is now called Shelby. Her tail just wags, wags, wags and she makes eye contact and uses her ears to convey her joy.

I have to tell you dear readers a little more about these good people, Deb and Merle. They are doing all of this, knowing that they can't keep this dog. They are doing all this while their house is on the market, being shown!!!! Thankfully, their real estate agent is a dog person who totally understands. Can you imagine showing your beautiful home, "Oh and this is our starved-to-death foster dog." So, if you dear readers could think positive thoughts about Shelby finding a forever home...

She loves to retrieve (no big surprise there!) and has learned to

"go get your ball"

"give"

"'sit"

"ya-hoooooo!"

"stand patiently while the humans yack"

"give kisses"

She got a dose of Heartguard today. The vet had us give benedryl 50mg a half hour beforehand. I've never had a heart worm positive dog before, so I don't really know what to expect. I know the Heartguard today was simply to lessen the microfilaria load in the bloodstream, and the real heartworm treatment can't start until she's gained ten pounds. (Which will be soon at this rate!)

My experience has been with Whippet Rescue before, and finding a home has meant picking the best fit from a long waiting list. If any of you have ideas to help find a forever home for Shelby, I'm all ears!

hug your hounds

A Chicken for the Miracle Dog

Elsa is thriving under foster parents' Deb and Merle's loving care. The Great Rescue happened on Thursday. On Friday, day two, I went to visit and was greeted with big full tail wags. My niece went with me and sat on the floor, and Elsa sat on her lap. Looking at Deb. Wagging.

We bumped her up to a half a cup of sensitive stomach kibble four times a day, plus the A/D with the Panacur once a day. Her belly looked even skinnier because it was less bloated on Friday; losing the belly worm load. But she looked the tiniest bit less gaunt. Better hydrated. Shoot, she looked alive instead of like the standing dead. We sat and wondered about her past. Elsa took a long, peaceful, deep nap, opening her eyes only if Deb left the room.

Friday evening the phone rang. It was Merle. "We have a new development." My heart sank. Was she having bloody diarrhea all over their lovely house? Was she screaming in pain? Panting uncontrollably from Congestive Heart Failure?

"What is it, Merle?"

"She wants to play. We need some toys for this dog."

Oh my goodness, you are kidding me! "Bill, I'm going to run to my shop and get some toys for Elsa. I'll be right back."

Bill looked incredulous. "The water is almost boiling. You can't go now!" Bill had been given the all clear from his doc, and was celebrating being alive and well and in full control of his faculties by making a new and delicious pasta dish.

"Ok, I'll grab something from here and just run it over to Deb and Merle's and be right back, I swear." I grabbed a hard green squeaky ball which was a little too big for the whippets, and a rolled rawhide, and a large rubber ridged chew. It was all I had which was big enough for her. I jogged down the street with the treasures.

I was met at the door by a beaming Deb, a laughing Merle, and a wagging yellow skeleton dog playing tug with a knotted towel. I threw the squeaky ball and the skeleton dog ran after it and pounced and brought it back just a'squeaking and a'wagging. We all clapped and laughed like big goofs. We were big goofs. Big happy delighted amazed goofs. And it was only day two.

This morning, day three, I called to see how things were. I feared that Elsa had in a moment's boredom, oh, I don't know, eaten their dining room table. No, she had been great. Still some loose to liquid stool, but not frequent. Still not a single accident in the house. She had chewed on the rawhide, and was learning the "out" command with toys. Merle would have her sit, give her the toy, have a kibble ready, tell her "out", and trade the toy for a kibble. A natural at this dog training stuff!

I stopped by this afternoon with a couple more toys. Deb had already been to Petsmart and gotten her a Kong, (perfect!) some training treats and biscuits. I brought a dead rubber chicken. This particular dead rubber chicken has (had) a squeaker and a little bit of stuffie stuffing for disemboweling pleasure. Elsa had at it:

If anyone ever needed an example that Life Is Good, here it is, in living skeletal color! If anyone ever needed an example that people are good, there are Deb and Merle, bringing a dog they can't even keep back from the very brink.

And someone is going to get a great dog.

Hug your hounds!

_________________________________________________

Community

We live in a magical neighborhood. In the last five years, people from all over the country have come to this small southern town at the confluence of the Tennessee and Ohio Rivers, just up from where they join the Mississippi. Artists. Because the people who live here are the Nicest People in the World. You can read more about that here.

And everyone has dogs. Our neighborhood is full of dogs and people who love them. And some cats, too.

Two days ago, the whippets told me someone was at our front door. We poured downstairs and found our neighbor Kathleen, who loves Buddy, her twelve year old sweetheart of a bully dog. When I opened the door, I saw the trouble on her face.

"Oh, Patience, I just saw a loose dog and she's in bad shape. Bad shape. She's starving. And she's had puppies."

We spent an hour, each in our own car, crawling back and forth through the neighborhood alleys and streets, with no luck. I walked my dogs, keeping an eye peeled: nothing.

Yesterday I saw the dog for myself. She was trotting down the sidewalk on Jefferson, a one way street. I had to go around the block to get to go the right way on Jefferson, and by then she was gone. But what I had seen chilled me. She was beyond emaciated. She was walking skin and bones. And from each side of her mouth hung ropes of drool. Could she be rabid? Could she have some oral abscess? I called Kathleen and told her I had spotted the dog. "Kathleen, I don't think you or I should approach that dog." I told her about the saliva. "I think if we see her again, we should call Animal Control."

Today, my neighbor Deb called. "Patience there is a puppy in Chad's garage. Could I pick you up and come see her?"

"Is she the color of sand and really skinny," I asked?

"Yes!"

"Don't approach her, Deb. I think she is seriously sick and she could be dangerous," I warned.

"Oh," said Deb. "Merle and I have already petted her and Chad gave her some food." Hmmm.

"OK, come get me at the side door."

I put my puzzled dogs in their downstairs crates with their biscuits, and put a hat on my scary undone morning writer's hair, and a coat on against the rain. Again this rain. Sweet Deb swung by and drove me the kattycorner half block to Chad's gorgeous property.

And in Chad's garden shed on an old wrought iron lawn chair with a folded cushion, was a dog curled in a tight, I don't care if I live or die ball. It was the most skeletal living dog I'd ever seen, and I do whippet rescue. You couldn't look at her and not have your throat get too tight and you eyes sting. You just couldn't look and not feel a stabbing in your heart and your gut suddenly felt like you shouldn't have had that coffee because it was burning and maybe you needed to excuse yourself and puke. She was that skinny.

Well, I didn't know what to do. I knew if we called Animal Control she wouldn't live through the day, and that might have been a kindness, but I couldn't have survived seeing that pole/loop thing around her neck and her struggling and being heaved in The Truck. Chad came out and said he had given her water and a little bit of puppy food and the second time he did, she followed him to his porch. No, he answered, she hadn't growled, hadn't shown her teeth, hadn't done anything but duck her head out of the way when he tried to pat her. Like she'd been hit before, he said. I dropped a biscuit from my pocket onto her chair.

She swallowed it whole.

Then after all my advice to Kathleen, I stroked the top of her head. Bone. "I think she's a Pit/Lab cross. She could be all Lab, it's so hard to tell in this state, but no, her coat is too short. I think she's a Pit/Lab cross," I said to Deb and Chad, like that meant anything to them. What was I going to do?

"OK, here's the deal. I'll go back to my house and get a crate. If I can get her in the crate, I'll take her to my vet. Bill has been asking what I want for Christmas, and here it is - a big vet bill! If I can't crate her, I think I have to call Animal Control." Head nods all around. Deb drove me back around the corner (well it was raining) and I grabbed a crate, a hot dog, a martingale lead and my check book. And Bill's famous Rendezvous! I didn't want a sick dog in the Whippet Wagon.

I gave the dog a tiny piece of hot dog. She lifted her head but those yellow eyes were empty. I gave her another tiny piece. I dropped a bigger piece in front of her chair and she dripped down off her perch. I placed a piece in the doorway of the Vari Kennel, which she inhaled, and then I threw the rest of the hot dog in the back of the crate. She walked right in, snarfed the meat and lay down in the crate. Didn't blink when I closed the crate door. Didn't blink.

"All righty then. My vet is going to kill me!" But I think I've mentioned on this very blog that I am Blessed with the best vets in the world. "Bring her right in," said Gail. Chad came back out of his house with a wad of cash for the vet visit and the bag of puppy food. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Deb volunteered to come along. The dog didn't make a sound as we drove.

Deb and I carried the crate into the exam room. Ol' Poke 'n Stick, as my whippets call their dear friend and healer, is off on Thursdays, and his associate, Doc Rennie came in the room. Rennie has a smile that makes you feel like you're in a special space, and a heart just full of love and respect for her clients of all walks. She's purely beautiful. "What have you brought me, Patience?"

Rennie opened the crate door, amidst my warnings that I didn't know if the dog was aggressive, or anything about her at all. The good vet spoke to the dog and let her sniff around the exam room. Eventually and with absolutely no struggle or fuss or notice, Rennie had scanned the dog for a microchip (none), had drawn blood for heartworm (positive), had listened to lungs (clear), palpated belly, (full of worms but not full of puppies), checked gums and teeth (very pale and only around two years old), gave her a dose of Panacur in a bowl of A/D while testing her for food aggression (none, and she sat on command), put a kennel leash around her neck to see her reaction (a little worried but fine), and elicited the first feeble wag of the tail. Deb and I for the most part stood uselessly wiping our tears and marvelling at the skill, the gifts, and talent of Rennie the Remarkable.

Oh, Dear Readers, I know this is long for a blog. And I beg your forgiveness, but some stories just have to be told and that's all there is to it.

Deb said she would keep Elsa until we could find her a forever home. (Oh yes, we started calling her Elsa because she looked so much like the lioness in Born Free.) Deb has cats and an understanding husband with a huge big heart. I worried about the cats, beautiful Maine Coon cats. Deb said she could close off the back kitchen. I stopped and got a collar and a leash, my camera, a dog bowl and some food for sensitive stomachs, and a big foam bed. (Recognise your gift, Laurie? Thanks!) We got the collar on Elsa and let her out of the car at Deb's.

The dog was being polite, but still was not connecting at all. As we walked her around a small grassy section, she never acknowledged us, but was searching for things to get under, places of shelter. Then we took her in Deb's kitchen, letting her sniff around, dragging her leash. She drank a ton of water. We heard that tummy rumbling: puppy food from the morning, biscuits and a hot dog, a can of A/D and wormer, and a ton of water. Yah, let's take her out and try again!

Voila! A monstrous big pile of poo! On lead! A miracle! I fingered the whippet sized sandwich ziplock in my coat pocket. "You're going to need bigger than sandwich size, Deb." "We'll get quart sized. Gallon!" she laughed.

And we went back inside. And then there started to be a Change.



Elsa walked up to me, a hint of a wag, and leaned against me accepting my strokes and scratches. Then she walked over to Deb, and lay down next to her, again with a little wag. And her eyes weren't empty. They were coming to life.





I know Deb and her sweet husband Merle have taken on a very sick dog without batting an eye. I know that I am blessed beyond comprehension with the Most Wonderful Veterinary Practice In The World. I know this whole neighborhood will be pulling for Elsa, the way Chad and Kathleen did, without thinking twice.




This was the last picture I took today. What a difference! She started looking at us. Her eyes were no longer empty and dead. Can you see it? She's in there! And I think, from everything I've seen so far, she's a really, really good dog.

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[Addendum: the whippets were truly stellar and terribly deprived yesterday. After spending all afternoon in the Great Elsa Caper, I came home, let them out, fed them and took a shower. When I got out of the shower, Bill was in need of his own trip to the human variety of ol' poke and stick, and we spent the evening at the E.R. Bill is FINE. He has some follow up studies to do, and he's going to see his regular doc today. He had his second episode ever of Transient Global Amnesia,
the first being eight years ago. I mention it only because when the E.R. doctor asked Bill who the President was, Bill said, "I don't know but he's a real jerk." That's my Bill!]