Five Dogs in Five Days

I was recently nominated by a Facebook friend to post five dog photos in five days...a task I was more than willing to to take on. Dogs, as my friends know, are one of my favorite photographic subjects. But deciding which five photos to share turned out to be more challenging than I had anticipated. Out of my hundreds of digital dog images, how would I choose just five?

But choose I did. And although these images aren't necessarily my "best," there was a reason for each selection.

First was a wire-haired Jack Russell terrier I met in Ireland. It seemed the logical place to start since I'd traveled in Ireland with the woman who nominated me for this visual exercise. The little guy (I forget his name) was perched on his front stoop enjoying the sun in the charming seaside town of Kinsale. He had a look of disinterested confidence that said,"This is my neighborhood. I hope you enjoy your walk in it. If you want to take my photo, you may; just don't expect me to smile."

My Day 2 choice was the direct result of Winter Storm Jonas, which had just dumped three feet of snow throughout much of the Washington DC-area. Faced with the reality of shoveling in the bitter cold, I was yearning for summer sunshine. And although the photo--of a friend's Chinese hairless crested, Funny Bones--was taken on a stone patio, the light, the windblown look of his hair, and the bluish color of the background (enhanced through some editing) gave the image a "beachy" feel that warmed my soul.

Working at an animal shelter, I photograph a lot of dogs and cats, so I turned to these files for my Day 3 inspiration. None of the shelter residents were more pitiful or needy than three terrified, essentially feral puppies rescued by the Humane Society of United States from a Korean dog meat farm. These puppies lived for weeks in the shelter's Behavior & Training office, receiving ongoing socialization and behavior modification. All three (there are three puppies in this image; the brown one had burrowed under the other two in an effort to go unnoticed) eventually went home with experienced adopters who had other dogs to serve as canine friends and role models. At last report, they were all doing well.

For Day 4. I chose a more personal image: of Ceiligh, a JRT/pointer/Lab mix my husband and I adopted after seeing her as an eight-week-old puppy up for adoption in a pet supply store that we visited to buy goldfish for our pond. Her adoption was something of an impulse (we already had two dogs) but it's one we've never regretted. At 13 years old, she's now senior canine of a household that once again contains three dogs. I took this picture of Ceiligh (pronounced Kaylee) sitting in one of our Adirondack chairs when she was four months old. It later served as the basis for a gorgeous pastel by my talented artist friend Liz Holm.

 

I decided to conclude the series with a photo that looks to the future. Yaya is a rescued pit bull terrier rescued by friends of mine. She is one of many dogs who have posed for images that will appear in a book I'm working on called Fetching Art: Murals, Graffiti & Man's Best Friend. If all goes as planned, I'll finish shooting this summer and have the book printed before the end of the year.

And so, my Five Dogs in Five Days collection is complete. But I so enjoyed reviewing my photos--some of which I haven't looked at in years--that I've decided to continue the process in my own way...by posting one dog photo a week here, So, dog lovers, check in once in a while; you might like what you see.

The Faces of Fostering

As a writer and photographer, I employ both words and images to communicate. For this post—in honor, appropriately, of the dog days of summer—I’ve chosen to rely primarily on images…of some of the wonderful dogs my husband and I have fostered over the years while they waited for their forever homes.

Most of these temporary canine companions arrived in good health; others had health or medical issues, such as demodectic mange or injured limbs that required surgery or even amputation. Some were outgoing; others, more cautious. Some shared our home for mere weeks, others several months. But no matter how short or long their time with us, each and every one of these dogs—from Lab mix pup Cooper, our very first foster, to rat terrier mix Taz to Plott hound mix Darla—found their way into our hearts and left us with wonderful memories.

People sometimes say to me, "Oh, I could never foster a dog; I'd want to keep them all," and ask, "Don't you feel sad when they leave?"

I always explain that we take in foster pups knowing that their stay will be limited and that having our own dogs makes their departure easier. And, yes, I feel a bit sad initially. But on the advice of a wise friend who has fostered many more dogs than I have, I treat myself to a glass wine once they're safe and sound in their new home and toast them and their new families in their futures together.

At the moment, my husband and I have no foster dogs. We're still enjoying the arrival of a new permanent canine family member. But I'm sure the day will come when we decide to once again become a "way station" on the way to a new life for another homeless dog.

Because, seriously, just look at these faces. How could we not?

 

Fostering saves lives and brings great joy! I encourage you to share in this joy by contacting your local shelter or rescue organization and asking how you can become a dog or cat foster parent.

The Miracle of Asha

In animal rescue, we’re always praying for miracles. Sometimes we get them, and when we do, we rejoice. All too often, we don’t. And then we grieve.

But I’m beginning to think that even when we don’t get the miracles we hope for, we sometimes still receive reasons to rejoice…although we may not realize it at the time. Take the case of Asha.

This petite pit bull terrier mix was rescued in 2011. She was found tied up in the basement of a row house in Baltimore, thin and covered with blood and open sores crawling with maggots. Her rescuers believe she was used as a bait dog. For those of you unfamiliar with the term (lucky you), that’s a dog—usually of a more submissive temperament—used as a canine “punching bag” by other dogs being trained to fight.

When Asha arrived at the Baltimore Animal Rescue and Care Shelter (BARCS), she was so severely wounded that she needed emergency treatment before she could even be transported to a Baltimore area veterinary clinic, where she underwent additional surgery involving more than 100 stitches. Then, because of her bite wounds and unknown vaccination status, she was placed in quarantine at the veterinary hospital for 6 months. 

And that’s where Asha’s legacy took root. One caring individual created a Facebook page for her in order to solicit financial support for her care and quarantine costs, and local news media covered her story. Donations and messages of concern began pouring in, and by the time Asha went to a foster home, she had more than 800 Facebook "friends"…far more than most people I know.

But the caring and involvement didn’t stop there. Throughout Asha’s quarantine, a dozen or so people—known as “Asha’s Angels”—visited her at the veterinary hospital regularly.  Others shared their love and support by hand delivering or sending her beds, treats, toys, sweaters, holistic lotions…and her favorite snack, French fries.

I was fortunate enough to be invited to meet—and photograph—Asha during her stay at the veterinary hospital. While still obvious, her wounds were healing and she seemed delighted with her toys and treats. I ended up including a photo of Asha in my dog photo book, Brindled Beauties

It seemed Asha was adored by the world…at least the part of it encompassing the Baltimore, MD, region. People were celebrating her rescue and recovery, and wishing a happy ending for her story.

Sadly, it was not to be.

On January 9, 2014, the rescue organization that took Asha into their care, posted the following message on Facebook: 

It is with our sincerest regrets that we, Baltimore Bully Crew, need to address that we were forced to humanely euthanize a long-time Bully Crew dog, Asha. She began her journey with us over two years ago after being rescued. She went to a foster and eventual adopter and found herself back with us after dynamics in that home did not work out. We knew she had some issues with other dogs when she came back to us. She was placed into a foster home with experienced crew members who continued to evaluate her needs and work on her rehabilitation. In the seven months that she had been back, it became abundantly clear that there were some major behavioral issues that were going to need to be addressed. She clearly demonstrated that living with other animals was never going to be an option. Secondly, she, on multiple occasions, demonstrated human aggressive tendencies with the intent of biting. While we do have dogs in our rescue that sometimes have to be "only dog" dogs, we cannot responsibly and in good conscience place a dog that shows unpredictable signs of human aggression back into society. So, we made what we believed to be the responsible decision to do right by Asha and society. The vets who cared for her for the last two years supported our decision. We are all very distraught at this ending, but feel it is important to be honest with the public, as this is a reality of rescue.

Those of us who had followed Asha’s story and celebrated her milestones were devastated. But as the dozens of follow-up Facebook messages revealed, nobody had anything but respect, support, compassion, and appreciation for members of the rescue organization and the incredibly difficult decision they had been forced to make. In fact, many of these posters shared messages of commiseration, recalling similar difficult decisions.

But while we all grieve for Asha’s failure to get the “happily ever after” we all wanted so desperately for her, there is still reason to rejoice. Like a pebble tossed in a pond, creating ripples that spread ever outward, the life—and death—of this one young, damaged dog has had a lasting positive impact.

People came together for Asha. People rescued her, treated her wounds, cared for her while she recovered, tried to help her overcome her emotional scars, and showed her what love was. People read her story and were inspired to battle the evils of dog fighting through education and political action. People helped pay for her medical and boarding bills or were inspired to donate to shelters and animal welfare organizations. And people connected and became friends with other animal lovers both in person and in cyberspace. 

Given this groundswell of support, I can only believe that many of these people will renew their ongoing efforts to help animals in need, and others—who may have stood on the sidelines—will now enter the fray. And this means there’s hope for the thousands of other Ashas still waiting for their second chance.

Not a bad legacy for one small dog.

To Rescue Near or Far, That is the Question

A week or so ago, an acquaintance posted the following message on Facebook:

Trying to understand why we have so many wonderful local animal rescue groups that go out of state to save animals when there are SO MANY animals right here that need help AND HOMES. I don't get it.

Her post got me thinking. It was a sincere, heartfelt comment, and one I’ve thought about many times.

For the past 10 years, I’ve volunteered with a county-based animal welfare organization in Maryland. We don’t operate a shelter; rather, we rescue animals from our county shelter and provide them a safe harbor in one of our foster homes until they find their forever families. We are committed to this effort because each year as many as 10,000 animals are euthanized at that shelter.

So when Hurricane Katrina devastated the American Southeast and rescue organizations across the United States opened their doors to thousands of animal victims, we made the decision not to do so. Our reason: For each Katrina dog or cat we took into our small foster program, another dog or cat languishing in our county shelter would remain behind bars…right in our own backyard but out of sight and out of mind.

I also work for another animal welfare organization in the nation’s capital. We take animals from several other local shelters that frequently run out of space, as well as a couple of rescue groups in other states. Occasionally, we are asked by national organizations like the ASPCA or the Humane Society of the United States to take animals they’ve rescued from puppy mills and hoarding situations or that have been made homeless by natural disasters. Most recently, we took in several dogs and cats whose homes were destroyed or made unlivable by Superstorm Sandy. Not knowing if or when they could care for their pets again, their people made the difficult and selfless decision to give their pets a new life by turning them over to the ASPCA.

As soon as the story of these animals’ arrival at our shelter hit the news, people were calling and emailing to ask when they’d be available for adoption…even though they’d never visited—or inquired about—the many other wonderful dogs and cats we have just waiting to go home.

The sad reality is that animals rescued from puppy mills, hoarding situations, or natural disasters generate more public attention than those picked up as strays or dumped like trash on an almost daily basis at local shelters in almost every county or municipality in every state in the nation. Their stories are “sexier” and generate lots of media attention, leading to high demand by potential adopters. In my uncharitable moments, I wonder if people like being able to tell their friends and family that they rescued a “Katrina” cat or a puppy mill survivor.

The fact is that there are no easy decisions when it comes to animal rescue because there are more homeless animals than people who want to give them homes. Fortunately, there are myriad shelters, rescue groups, and animal welfare organizations with almost as many missions and niches to fill. Collectively, we can—and do—make a difference.

And for me, at least, the bottom line is that an animal rescued is an animal rescued, no matter where that animal came from.

To Dress or Not to Dress

I recently caused a virtual firestorm when I posted a photo of a dog with reindeer antlers on the facebook page of the rescue organization I work for. Although more than 120 people "liked" the photo and made such comments as "cute" and "adorable," one individual expressed her opinion that it was "exploitative and frankly--wrong--to subject any animal, let alone a rescue animal, to having a band put on its head. And for what good purpose, marketing? Entertainment? Dress up?! This is indefensible for an animal welfare entity."

 

 Wow! I have to admit I didn't see that coming.

 As a canine pet parent who has photographed my own dogs in costumes for more than 20 years, I've never considered it wrong. But because I care for animals--and not just my own--the comments made me reexamine my opinion. I began by asking myself several questions:

Do my dogs enjoy being dressed up? Not necessarily, although one female, Samba, seemed completely comfortable in whatever accessory I put on her head, around her neck, or over her back. And they all definitively enjoy the treats they get as part of every photo session.

Do my dogs mind being dressed up? They don't seem to...as long as I don't make them wear anything out of the ordinary for any length of time. Again, however, it depends on the dog. Ceiligh, my 32-pound dalmation/JRT/Labrador mix will prance around in a velvet red-and-white dress long after her photo has been snapped. And, as I mentioned above, the treats are always a big hit.

Do my dogs trust me not to do anything that would cause them pain or discomfort? Yes. 

Are my dogs in any way damaged, physically or psychologically, by the experience of being dressed up for photographs? No.

 After undergoing this internal assessment, I continue to believe that there's nothing inherently wrong with photographing animals in costumes. Now, personally, I have to admit that I'm not "into" dressing my dogs up on a regular basis. But I don't believe, either, that everyone who dresses their dogs in clothing considers their dogs as accessories. As one friend pointed out to me, her Chinese hairless cresteds would be miserably cold in the winter without coats.

But I digress.

When it comes to photographing shelter animals, I have one or more--positive--goals in mind: capture people's attention, make them aware of the organization's existence (and/or particular adoption or fundraising events), and increase the animals' chances of getting adopted. Let's face it, when it comes to animals, a picture really is worth a thousand words. Many people come to a shelter specifically to see a particular dog or cat because there was something about the animal's photo on Petfinder.com or the shelter's website that "called" to them. Costumes, accessories, and props can add to the attraction, making a viewer pay more attention to the photo; they also can make intimidating- or less-attractive-looking animals appear cuter, more appealing...and more "adoptable."

Because I care deeply about our shelter residents, I go out of my way to make the process of photographing them as pleasant as possible...whether or not costumes or props are involved. I spend a lot of time getting to know the "models"...not just because it facilitates my work but because I like spending time with them. In fact, I hang out with dogs in their dens on an almost daily basis, giving them treats and scratching their tummies, even if I have no particular intentions of photographing them.

When I do photograph the animals, dogs in particular, I take their background, temperament, and comfort level into consideration. With timid or frightened dogs, like puppy mill survivors, for example, I never use a flash because it scares them...which is the last thing their fragile psyches need. I also limit the length of the sessions and take as few shots as I need to get something usable because a camera lens can look to some dogs like the giant eye of a potential predator, which can be pretty scary. Basically, I tailor each photo shoot to the animal involved.

And when it comes to photographing animals in costumes, I'd like to point out that I--and the organization I work for--are far from alone. The homepage of the ASPCA currently includes a photo of a dog in antlers. The American Humane Association is offering a variety of holiday cards featuring  puppies in Santa Claus hats for sale. The Houston SPCA, of "Animal Cops" fame, is selling antlers and Christmas ruffs for dogs on their website. And that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. A quick glance at the facebook postings of shelters and rescue organizations throughout the DC-area, and across the country, reveals photos of dogs of all sizes, shapes, ages, and breeds decked out in holiday dress. I readily admit to sharing many of them (they were too cute not to)...and wish I could take photographic credit for them.

Here's hoping these animals, and all the rest sharing shelter space with them, find homes soon!

And best wishes for a joyous holiday season from our home to yours.

     

Not for the Faint of Heart

I work for an amazing animal welfare organization that operates an outstanding shelter and a state-of-the-art medical center. We are not contracted by a municipality, which means we aren't required by law to take in every stray off the street. Instead, in addition to assisting national organizations like the ASPCA and HSUS by taking in animals from hoarding situations, puppy mills, and natural disasters, we have the "luxury" of rescuing animals from neighboring "open" shelters that sadly run out of space for the never-ending population of homeless dogs and cats.

While we often take in dogs and cats with serious medical conditions and provide them with treatment that other shelters cannot, we regretfully but consciously pass over those whose temperaments make them, upon initial assessment, unadoptable or even downright dangerous. Our goal is to place as many homeless animals as possible...and for every animal who passes through our doors to find a loving forever home.

And that's what almost always happens. "Almost" always.

Every once in a while, animals--usually dogs--turn out to have "issues" that, despite considerable efforts by trained behavioral staff and volunteers, make them "unadoptable." The stories vary...from a starved, emaciated giant breed dog, who because of weakness and ill health initially seems sweet and submissive but after a regular diet and good medical care becomes dangerously aggressive, to a young stray who goes from smart, dominant, high-energy pup to smart, dominant, high-energy adult who despite daily exercise and interaction with staff and volunteers develops more and more inappropriate and risky behaviors as shelter life wears away at her psychological core. But the result is the same.

Believing that quality of life is of paramount importance, a committee including  the shelter director and representatives of the adoptions, behavioral, and medical staff meets regularly to discuss our animals. If this caring and committed group of people--who know the animals well--decide that an animal is unsafe to place in a home and that continued life in the shelter would in itself be a form of cruelty, they make the incredibly difficult decision to humanely euthanize that animal. This decision is never, ever, made lightly. But it is always made with the animal's well being as the compass point and the sincere belief that as blogger Jessica Dolce wrote, "there are worse things than humane euthanasia."


I have come to know--and have photographed--animals that ended up being euthanized. Although I understand--and usually agree with--the decisions, I still feel a profound sense of grief at each animal's passing because I so want each and every shelter resident to get that second chance...to find their happily ever after. Sadly, unlike in fairy tales, such happy endings aren't universal.

The faces of these animals still haunt me, sometimes when I dream, sometimes at odd moments like when I'm driving down the highway...and I suspect they always will. I am often tempted to delete their images from my hard drive because they are painful to look at it. But that would do these animals a disservice. And, in a way, they are reminders of the enormity of the challenges facing us every day.

The world of animal rescue is not for the faint of heart. But it is a world worth living in--and being strong for--at least for me.