One of My Dogs

One of my dogs died yesterday. It wasn’t Fletcher, Folly, or even almost-16-year-old Ceiligh. And he hadn’t lived with us since early 2006. But he was still one of my dogs.

His name was Cooper and he was the first puppy that my husband, Mark, and I fostered for the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George’s County (pgspca.org) in Maryland. He was just 2 months old when he came to us from the county animal shelter, and he immediately became a part of our family. He was sweet, playful, and eager to please…everything one looks for in a prospective canine companion.

It came as no surprise, therefore, that this precious retriever mix spent just a few short weeks in our care. He was adopted by a wonderful young couple who were thrilled to add him to their small family. Like many first children, their cat was less enthralled at the prospect of a four-legged sibling, but he eventually came around.

When you foster homeless animals, you become something of a way station on their road to a happily ever after. You know your part in their story will be a temporary one, but it’s impossible not to form an emotional bond. So their departure invariably leaves something of a void in your life, and you can’t help wondering about them and if their life is as good as you’d hoped it would be.

I was thrilled, therefore, when a year or so after adopting him, Cooper’s mom brought him to see me at a community dog event where I was working as a volunteer. Not only did I get some good quality doggy loving from—a much larger—Cooper, but I was given a small album chronicling life in his forever home. I felt like a proud grandmother.

Although I didn’t see Cooper again after that, I followed the course of his life through his mom’s posts on Facebook. I celebrated the arrival of two human siblings and felt pride in how Cooper took to his role as big brother. I smiled every time I saw a photo of the three of them enjoying special moments—like Cooper’s 12^th birthday—together. He was a dog well loved.

But every love story comes to an end, sooner or later. Last Wednesday, Cooper began having trouble breathing and was taken to a veterinary hospital, where he was diagnosed with aspiration pneumonia (the same affliction that led to my father’s death last year). The veterinarians tried four different antibiotics but Cooper’s health continued to decline. His mom spent Sunday night in the veterinary hospital by his side, willing him to rally. But on Monday it was obvious that the miracle his family was hoping for was not to be, and they gave him the ultimate gift of a peaceful passing, showing him love throughout.

When I heard the news, I cried as if Cooper were my own. Which, in a way, he was. No, he didn’t live with me, and in the eyes of the law he wasn’t mine. But in my “foster mom” heart, where perhaps it matters most, Cooper—like all the fosters who have passed through our door—was and always will be at least a little bit mine.



Posted with eternal gratitude to Cooper's adoptive family.

The Right Name

Dog of the Week: Ghillie

Six years ago this month, my husband and I welcomed an adorable, six-month-old, brindled Plott hound mix pup into our home. Although we knew--given her sweet, playful, happy personality--that she wouldn't be with us long, finding the "right" name was, as always, important to me.

At the time, we had two dogs with dance-related names: Tango, named for one of our favorite ballroom dances, and Ceiligh (pronounced Kaylee), named for an exuberant Celtic dance party. With her four distinctive white paws, our foster pup seemed to call for some sort of footwear-based moniker. But Boots, Slippers, and Socks seemed too ordinary for her exotic good looks. So she remained nameless for several days while I pondered and researched.

Finally, I hit upon the word ghillies, soft shoes worn by women in Irish dance. So Ghillie she became.

Less than a month after her arrival, Ghillie found her forever home, complete with a male golden retriever playmate, who she kept entertained (and in shape) with her fancy footwork.

I don't know if Ghillie kept her name...but I have no doubt that she's still dancing her way joyously through life!




 

An Angel in Our Midst

Dog of the week: Angel (fka Shirley)

In 2006, my husband and I welcomed a darling fluffy, brindled puppy into our home as a foster for the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County. As with all our fosters, I agonized over what to call her. In her case, the choice was made for us.

Within hours of her arrival, the intrepid little explorer ventured onto an 8-inch-wide, 4-foot tall brick wall bordering our patio, and before I could retrieve her, toppled off...just like my mother-in-law, Shirley, had from her own brick wall while pruning shrubs. Fortunately, unlike my mother-in-law, who broke her wrist, our little pup suffered no harm. Still, given the similarity in their experiences, the name Shirley seemed meant to be. So Shirley it was for the duration of her stay with us.

Which wasn't long. In just two short weeks, Shirley was adopted by a wonderful family with a 12-year-old son who had been longing for a dog. In fact, it was the son who had been checking Petfinder.com for a potential canine companion. And it was he who gave Shirley her new name: Angel (because of the white cross-shaped blaze on her chest).

Angel quickly became a much-loved member of her new family, who shared her story for my book A is for Angel: A Dog Lover's Guide to the Alphabet. (To order your copy, just click on "Buy now" below the thumbnail of the cover.)

Short of Stature, Large of Heart

Dog of the week: Oscar

Oscar is not what one would call a "dignified" dog. In fact, he's quite the opposite. With a head and coloring reminiscent of a Rhodesian ridgeback and the the build of a Basset hound, he looks a bit like a sculpting assignment gone wrong. But when he scurries excitedly up to you, stubby legs and big paws scrambling, and peers adoringly at you with his mismatched eyes, all you can think is what a wonderful, charming dog he is!

Oscar lives with my friend Sandy, who saw him in the county animal shelter seven years ago and decided to foster him for the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County. Given her love of Basset hounds (her first dog as an adult was a Basset), it came as no surprise to her friends when she decided to make him a permanent part of her family's pack.

It's a decision she's never regretted...despite a couple of orthopedic incidents: surgery to straighten a foot (his) and a broken finger (hers). The first was caused by inherited conformation issues; the second was the direct result of Oscar chasing a squirrel while attached to a leash held by Sandy.

And then there's Oscar's penchant for stealing--and eating--panties and socks. Fortunately, surgical intervention has never been required...although it's been a near thing a couple of times.

But with his big heart and exuberant, happy-go-lucky personality, it's easy to forgive Oscar his few foibles. He has a way of making every day--and every evening--a little brighter.