Best--and Most Expensive--Rescued Dog Ever

During my years as a volunteer with the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County, my husband and I fostered 17 dogs...mostly puppies. They were all adorable and I have fond memories of each and every one of them, but I'll also confess to having a few favorites. Among these extra-special temporary Townsend pack members was Jack, a German shepherd mix pup who came into our care when he was just eight weeks old. Given his adorable looks and joyful, happy-go-lucky personality, it wasn't long before he caught the eye--and captured the heart--of a woman named Brenda.

From our first conversation, it was obvious that Brenda was one of those people who consider their dogs family members and that she would do anything and everything within her power to ensure their health and happiness. After mourning the passing of a previous dog, she was eager to welcome a new canine companion for herself and her Australian shepherd, Josie. And she was convinced Jack was the one.

And she was right. From the very beginning, Jack and Josie were a mutual appreciation society of two! Although they were very different--she a Lady and he more of a Tramp--they brought out the best in each other. He was the Yin to her Yang.

So it wasn't surprising when that when Josie died, Jack became deeply depressed, not wanting to get up in the morning and showing little interest in life. It was only when Brenda adopted a new puppy, Lacey, that Jack's happy, carefree nature blossomed once again. His relationship with Lacey is very different than his relationship with Josie--she's quite a little pistol--but they enjoy each other's company and their life with Brenda, which includes a huge yard to play in and regular trips to the Outer Banks.

But it hasn't been all roses and sunshine. Over the years, Jack has been afflicted with a variety of health issues, including a serious form of irritable bowel disease that requires a special diet, regular medication, and even occasional emergency hospital stays. And he recently underwent surgery to repair a ruptured a canine cruciate ligament (the dog equivalent of an ACL). Can you say "cha-ching"?

Good thing Brenda adores him...as you can see from this lovefest! 

"Best--and most expensive--rescued dog ever!," she says with a laugh.

Just another "extra"ordinary brown dog

A first glance, the 10-month-old puppy looked like just one more plain--albeit dark--brown dog: ordinary, nondescript, forgettable. But first glances can be deceiving.

Take the word "brown" for example. It can describe so many of life's treasures and pleasures: the crispy saltiness of pretzels; the rich creaminess of hot fudge sauce; the weathered texture of tree bark; the sparkle of smokey quartz; the glossy sheen of a chestnut mare's coat.

In the case of this deceptively unremarkable dog--named Devon by his foster family--brown is of the deep mahogany variety, shot through with unexpected golden highlights. And it sets off a pair of equally striking brown eyes.

I had ample opportunity to gaze into these eyes while caring for Devon last weekend because he spent a lot of time looking at me. And as I glanced into their amber depths, I discovered a very special dog indeed.

First and foremost, Devon is a dog who desperately wants to love and be loved, a dog who craves attention but doesn't have complete confidence in the dependability of the human species. He bestows doggy kisses with great enthusiam but also a touch of desperation...as if he is trying to convince both of us that he is worth my time and attention.

As sad as such insecurity makes me, it probably isn't surprising considering that Devon spent most of his short life in a backyard, not abused or legally neglected, but always relegated to the role of observer of--and never participant in--family activities.

Also not suprisingly, such human indifference has also led to separation anxiety. The day after Devon arrived, I put him in a large, lightweight, collapsable metal crate in my office for three hours while my husband and I went out. Upon our return, I discovered an empty crate with the door still latched, and Devon standing in the center of a pile of books, knick-knacks, and torn mini-blinds. Poor boy!

Over the next couple of days, I put Devon in a crate (a much sturdier one) for a half-hour or hour at a time...always with a treat, such as a frozen peanut butter-stuffed kong. Each time, he seemed less stressed. My sense is that while he may never love being crated, he'll accept it when necessary. And as his fear of abandonment decreases, he may not require crating at all, especially if he has a canine companion to keep him company. Even when he created chaos in my office, he didn't chew a single inappropriate item.

In spite of, or perhaps because of, his questionable past experience with people, Devon is incredibly eager to please. He's also smart. He already knows how to sit although the concept of "stay" seems foreign to him. He walks well on a leash and doesn't pull...unless he spots a squirrel or all other small mammal.

Mostly, he just wants to be near his people...an incredibly appealing quality in a dog.

Each night, as we climbed into bed together and drifted off to sleep, I bet our dreams were the same: for him to find a family who will see how special he is and will give him the love, care, and attention that all good dogs deserve.

To learn more about Devon and how you can make his dream come true, click here.

The Tale of a Tiny, Timid Tank

Tank can come across like a real tough guy (a sort of canine Jimmy Cagney)…especially when you first meet him. But in reality he’s anything but. The truth is, Tank is a timid, insecure guy who, believing that the best defense is an offense, takes refuge in a tough guy façade.

When I met this tiny Chihuahua/Chinese hairless crested for the first time yesterday, he charged at the storm door, barking furiously. I’m sure he was hoping I would just go away. When that didn’t happen and his foster mom let me in, he kept his distance, still barking at me periodically.

Fortunately, like most males, Tank loves food, so I spent some time just sitting on the floor, tossing treats to him until he gathered up the courage to take them directly from my hand. It helped that the resident Chihuahua, Hector, is a gregarious boy who interacted happily with me.

Once Tank had relaxed and was comfortable around me, we moved outside so I could take some pictures of him. The goal: to help him find a furever home of his own.

Tank is happy in his foster home, enjoys the company of his foster mom’s two small dogs, and obviously adores her, wagging his tail furiously when she talks to him. And she loves him! But her role is to rescue multiple dogs in need, and that means helping Tank achieve his own, personal “happily ever after.”

We don’t know anything about Tank’s background. He was picked up as a stray by Animal Control when he was about 2 years old and then spent some time at the Prince George’s County Animal Shelter before being taken in by the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George’s County (PGSPCA). But his reactions to the world around him suggest that life hasn’t been easy. He ducks his head when someone reaches out to pet him, and sudden movements and sounds cause him to flinch and occasionally even snap. Just as Kermit the Frog sang that “it isn’t easy being green,” you get the sense that it isn’t easy being Tank.

And there’s just something about this unique little guy—including his infectious “smile”—that makes you want to provide him with a safe haven where he can feel protected and loved and come to believe that life can be good.

According to his foster mom, Tank’s ideal home would be a quiet one with a gentle, kind, dog-savvy individual who has experience with small breeds and the patience to work with him to build his self-confidence. Because of his reactivity to sudden movements and sounds, he can’t go to a home with young children, but he’d love the company of another small dog that he could bond with and learn from.

If you’re interested in learning more about Tank…go to http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/17010671, email info@pgspca.org, or call 301-262-5625 and leave a message.

Two Tortie Kitties Looking for a Home

Meet Jasmine, an adorable 9-week-old tortoiseshell kitten. This poor white-socked babe ended up at the shelter without mom or siblings when she was only 5 weeks old. Kittens like that have such a small chance of making it, but thanks to excellent veterinary care, this one did. She was later paired with a slightly older lookalike orphan, Jessie (below), and their companionship likely helped pull them both through those rough early weeks.

Jessie and Jasmine are up for adoption from the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County and would make lovely additions to any home.

Saved from a Life on the Streets: A Special Mother's Day Post

A friend of mine works in construction...building, renovating, and remodeling homes. Her most recent contract took her to a Baltimore neighborhood of rundown, abandoned row houses in sore need of a facelift. During her months on the job site, she befriended, fed, rescued, and found homes for a number of street cats. But one cat in particular captured her heart.

This beautiful medium-haired cat visited the job site almost daily--not only for the food my friend distributed but also for some human interaction. She seemed to crave attention...and the comfort of my friend's truck, where she would spend hours dozing in the front seat or on the dashboard. She even ran after the truck when my friend left for home in the evening.

Given the cat's sociable nature, my friend thought crating her and taking her to a vet would be easy. But she was wrong. Although the cat loved being in the truck, she absolutely freaked when placed in a closed-door crate. In a complete panic, she thrashed about to the point that she scratched and bloodied her face and caused the crate to tip over. Afraid that the cat might get out of the crate in the truck during the drive, my friend reluctantly let her go.

But the cat's situation continued to weigh on her mind...especially as it became apparent that the cat was pregnant. And then the cat disappeared...only to materialize again on my friend's final day at the job site. She showed up for food and then led my friend to the backyard of an empty row house. There in a box of trash under a table, my friend discovered three kittens just two or three weeks old.

The proud mama purred with pleasure and allowed my friend to take the box of kittens back to the job site. With the kittens under her watchful eye, she even deigned to ride in the truck with them...no crate necessary.

Today, mom--now named Biddle for the street on which she was found--and her kittens are safe and sound in my friend's garage in a large crate (with the door always open) full of blankets. They've been seen by a mobile vet and determined to be in good health.

Biddle is a wonderful, doting mom. And she loves sharing her family with visitors--and being petted while she nurses. She purrs constantly (making it difficult for the vet to listen to her heartbeat). Like her kittens, she will make someone a fantastic pet!

All four of them will be made available for adoption once the kittens are weaned and they and Biddle are neutered. In the meantime, they are enjoying their new life of safety and comfort...far from the mean streets.

Passing of a Muse

Why is it that life's highs are so often counterbalanced by corresponding lows?

Sadly, the printing of my new book, A is for Angel: A Dog Lover's Guide to the Alphabet, an event that brought me great satisfaction, coincided roughly with the diagnosis of one of our dogs, Samba, with hemangiosarcoma. What made this coincidence particularly painful and ironic was the fact that Samba had been something of a photographic muse for me.

My husband and I adopted Samba and her brother Tango when they were 3-and-a-half months old, following the death of one of our first dogs, Boris. We discovered them at an adoption show of the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County and burst into tears. Black and fluffy, they reminded us so much of Boris as a puppy. We were smitten!

Over the years, Samba posed for many photos, including Halloween portraits, Christmas cards, and the cover of my book Black is Beautiful: A Celebration of Dark Dogs. There's something serene and soulful in her expression in that cover shot that will stay with me always, as will the photos taken of her in the snow and on her bed just a week before she died.

Before Samba's diagnosis, I had never heard of hemangiosarcoma, but desperate for any information that might help us help her, I scoured the web, and quickly learned that it is discouragingly common...and deadly. Despite the removal of her spleen, site of the original tumor, Samba succumbed just one short month after diagnosis. But during the course of my information search, I discovered a source of hope for all dog lovers: the National Canine Cancer Foundation, a non-profit organization that funds grants for researchers investigating the prevention, treatment, and cure of cancers afflicting our canine companions. So in an effort to channel my grief, I established a fundraising page in Samba's memory on the NCCF's website. I encourage you to read her story there and make a donation to the cause if you're moved to do so.

Seeing through the Eyes of a Rescued Dog

Since fostering rescued dogs has been a fairly significant activity in my life over the past few years, I thought I'd share the following reflections based on my experience with one of these wonderful dogs...reflections that were originally posted as part of the blog of the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County:

Sometimes we forget that the ordinary, everyday world can be an exciting, surprising, and even scary place…when seen through the eyes of a dog just rescued from the concrete confines of the shelter. Objects, environments, and situations that we ignore or take in stride can cause very different reactions in a recently “liberated” canine.

Take Kourtney, one of our recent foster dogs, for example. When she arrived at our home, she was afraid to even come inside, much less go up or down stairs. A couple of days later, having mastered the stairs, she noticed a life-sized statue of a small puppy standing near the wall in our den. She crouched down, belly to the floor, stared, and began to growl. I had to turn the statue on its side and hold it in my lap before she would approach to sniff it. We repeated the process several times before Kourtney was completely convinced that this very still dog who showed no appropriate greeting behavior wasn’t a threat.

One night while I waited for what seemed forever for her to “go potty,” in the backyard, Kourtney spotted a cicada as it flew clumsily onto a low-hanging trumpet vine branch. She watched it intently for a moment and then made her move, knocking it to the ground and pouncing on it with apparent glee.

And the next day was the day of the pinecone. While on a walk, Kourtney suddenly froze in that position that suggests uncertainty about whether to advance or retreat. I couldn’t figure out what had spooked her, but then noticed a pine cone lying in the dirt. She stared, circled it, and stared some more. Tentatively, she touched it with her nose, only to jump back in surprise at the sensation. She circled some more, touched it again, then gingerly picked it up and carried it proudly for a few moments as we walked before dropping it as if it were of no further interest.

Kourtney’s stay with us was characterized by such small but momentous discoveries…discoveries that I feel blessed to have share with her. Ahhh, to see through the eyes of a rescued dog.