Fabricated Beauty: A Fashion Yin & Yang

It's time for my latest photo-inspired post. (And, yes, I realize it's been more than a week since the previous one.)

This photo--actually, two versions of one photo--is a close-up of the collar of an outfit on display in a fashion exhibit at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs (Museum of Decorative Arts) in Paris. Housed in a building adjoining the Louvre, this museum, with its ceramics, glass, jewelry, and other decorative arts, is something really special. And I was fortunate enough to visit at a time when an extraordinary fashion exhibit was there. From Chanel and Christian Dior to Pierre Cardin and Yves Saint Laurent, the clothes represented a "who's who" of designers and were gems that shined, both individually and collectively. A fashion-lover's definition of eye candy!

Back to the photo. The first version is a more literal representation of the garment, with its mesmerizing ripples and folds of black and gold. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

The second is my personal rainbow-colored interpretation. I like to think of it as the yin to reality's yang.

And for those of who want an additional taste of this extraordinary exhibit, here are a few more cell phone images. Enjoy!

 

 

A Sweet Surprise

In an effort to post more regularly on my blog, I’ve decided to select a photo each week from my portfolio as a source of inspiration. Depending on the subject, the post may be inspirational, educational, amusing, poignant…or just a photo with a caption.

 

 

My first photographic point of departure is an image I captured with my phone while eagerly awaiting a pot of English breakfast tea and a scone. I was not however in the Cotswolds, the Lake District, or anywhere else in the British Isles. Rather, I was in the heart of the Loire Valley, enjoying a short vacation with my sister and my 15-year-old niece. (More about that in future posts.)

We had just spent an hour or so exploring the Abbaye de Fontevraud, the largest abbey in Europe and burial site of Henry II of England; his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine; their son King Richard I (the Lionheart ) of England, and others. We emerged into a light late-March drizzle, awed and inspired by this spiritually and historically important site, wanting nothing more than a pleasant place to sit, enjoy some refreshment, and share impressions.

That place—just a short walk down a side street from the abbey—was Chez Teresa Tea Rooms & Chambres d’Hotes. Attracted by the cluster of colorful furniture and objet d’art outside, we poked our heads in the door, and said to an apparently empty hallway, “Bonjour.” And from behind a rattan folding screen, tucked under a stairway, a woman emerged. “Do you serve tea?” we asked. “Of course,” she replied, leading us into a room in which Alice’s Mad Hatter would have felt right at home.

From floor to ceiling, the room was chock-full of tea pots, cups, and saucers; British memorabilia and foodstuffs; and bric-a-brac of every possible size, substance, and description. The only unoccupied spaces were the chairs in which we were invited to sit.

Left alone with menus to peruse, we exchanged bemused glances. “At first,” my niece said, “she [our hostess] made me think of the witch in Hansel and Gretel, the way she suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere, and invited us into what looks like a candy cottage. But, actually, she seems very nice (and she's too pretty) and it’s cute and cheerful.”

And the food—from the quiche to the scones to the cake (all homemade)—was delicious! Just what we needed to fortify ourselves for our afternoon agenda.

So if you find yourself at Fontevraud, looking for a place to eat—or even stay—check out Chez Teresa Tea Rooms & Chambres d’Hotes. And if you don’t speak French, don’t worry. It’s owned and operated by English ex-pats Tony and Teresa Dolan, who will greet you warmly and welcome you to their adopted country.

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.

Pics of Portuguese Pups

Everyone who knows me knows that two of my greatest passions are travel and dogs. And more often than not these passions overlap. So while most tourists focus their lenses on historic sites, natural beauty spots...and each other, I find myself zooming in on local residents of the canine variety.

And, as these images from Portugal--from small pampered pups to a huge wolf companion--demonstrate, there's never a lack of furry four-legged "models." (Click pictures to view larger images.)


Thank goodness!

A Fair Exchange

Today is beautiful. The snow is falling, there’s a fire in the fireplace, and the Christmas tree lights are glowing. But as I wrap presents, hang “just one more” ornament on the tree, bake cookies, and listen to Mannheim Steamroller and Trans Siberian Orchestra CDs, I find myself getting a bit teary. My own pleasure and contentment remind me of the sense of loss and sadness two other people must be feeling.

Yesterday, a longtime supporter of the shelter where I work—I’ll call her Hope--brought her cat in to the medical center to be humanely euthanized. The cat had found herself at the last year for reasons I don’t recall. Miss Daisy, as we named her, was confused, cranky, and—in her middle teens—not what one might describe as “highly adoptable.” It didn’t help that she rebuffed most people’s attempts to show affection.

Miss Daisy peers suspiciously at shelter visitors.

But despite all this—or perhaps because of it—Hope stepped in to help. She agreed to foster Miss Daisy with the intention of adopting her if she and Hope’s dog got along. Perhaps Miss Daisy knew this was her best chance because while she and the dog never became what you’d call friends, they were able to coexist.

Hope knew that her time with Miss Daisy might be short, but she was committed to making the cat feel loved and cared for. When Miss Daisy’s health began to decline, Hope did everything possible to preserve her quality of life. And when the time came that Miss Daisy’s life no longer had quality, Hope made the difficult but generous decision to let her go.

Miss Daisy rests comfortably in Hope's robe.

When she arrived at the shelter, Hope mentioned that she had no photographs of Miss Daisy. I told her I had taken some when Miss Daisy arrived at the shelter and offered to print them for her. While appreciative of the offer, Hope asked if I would take one more so she could have images to remind her of both the beginning and end of Miss Daisy’s journey with her.

I feel privileged to have been able to do that for Hope…especially after all she did for Miss Daisy, but I have to admit that it wasn’t easy. Just a few short hours earlier, my good friend Sandy had said goodbye to a beloved canine companion.

I’ve known Sandy—and her dog Jocy—for more than a decade, ever since the day Sandy and I met at a volunteer orientation for a county animal welfare organization. Since then, we’ve spent countless hours together…taking foster dogs to adoption shows, veterinary appointments, and home visits; enjoying good wine and good food in bars, restaurants, and each other’s homes; and even indulging our mutual love of travel with travel both domestic and international.

Jocy explores the reeds.

 At least two of our “girls” trips included Jocy. One was a weekend on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, where Jocy indulged her love of the water along the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. The other was a visit to the Poconos, where Sandy, Jocy, my dog Ceiligh, and I enjoyed peaceful walks in the woods and even a quick dip in a cold mountain stream…the dogs, not us. Such are the experiences from which wonderful memories are made.

Enjoying a walk in the woods.

Jocy was a sweet, calm, even-tempered dog who seemed to love everybody and everything, especially her food and her “mom.” She was the benevolent leader of a three-dog pack and served as a great canine “sister” and role model to dozens of foster dogs over the past decade.

Jocy (left) shares a special moment with a new foster dog.

Last year Jocy began showing the signs of age, including a progressive weakening of her hind limbs. Sandy and her family did what they could to make Jocy’s life easier, carpeting first the stairs and then the floors of rooms Jocy frequented to give her the traction she needed. When Jocy could no longer make it up and down the stairs, Sandy and her husband took turns sleeping in the first-floor family room with her so she didn’t feel abandoned by her “pack” at night. They fitted her with a handled harness to help her walk. In short, they did everything humanly possible to make her life comfortable.

But eventually, inevitably, “everything” wasn’t enough. Deciding that existence isn’t “life,” Sandy and her family asked their veterinarian to make a special house call.

And so my pleasure in the joys of today is tempered by other, somewhat intertwined and complicated emotions. I feel sympathy for Hope’s and Sandy’s losses. I feel a sense of melancholy as I remember my own departed loved ones. And I feel admiration for and appreciation of the courage it took these women to ease their loved ones’ passage. Such a decision can be painful almost beyond bearing, but when life has become a struggle rather than a celebration, it is also, I believe, the greatest gift we can give our animal companions...and the price we pay for their extraordinary gift to us: the gift of companionship.

I’d say it’s a fair exchange.