|
|
|
This page is
dedicated first and for most to two of my beloveds who have gone to the
bridge. Gretchen, a standard dachshund who passed 2 weeks shy of her
20th birthday...Halloween. And Checkers...(Kingsmark Checkmate) a
tri-colour rough show prospect who had PRA. Both were special and gave
me a lot of insights... |
"Walk With An Old Dog" -- by Gayl Jokiel
Because you will not be forever,
Hope against time though I may,
I paint your picture in my memory,
Eyes blue with age, muzzle gone gray.
Because you walked with me in Springtime,
Puppy-clumsy, running free.
As you grew, we grew together-
You became a part of me.
Because you shared with me my sorrows,
Not understanding- simply there.
Often spurring me to laughter--
My friend, you know how much I care.
Because the years have slowed your fleetness,
Though your spirit still is strong.
I promise I will take more time now,
So that you can go along.
Because you do not fear the future,
Living only in the now,
I draw strength from your example-
Yet time keeps slipping by somehow.
Because the day will soon be coming
When I will no longer see
You rise to greet me-but in memory
You will always walk with me. |
|
Spot --- The
World's Greatest Pet (Adopted as a Senior)
"Spot is the world's
greatest pet! He loves life, kids, walks, and food -- especially treats.
He's very old, 17 1/2, but he still enjoys the finer things in life. Spot's
heritage is unknown, but surely involves some German Shepherd and maybe
Husky or Malamute. He weighs about 50 pounds and has beautiful thick brown
and black fur. Spot's best buddy is Buffy, another Humane Society dog that I
adopted 8 months ago. Buffy is a Chihuahua-Beagle and he is the second best
pet in the world. Spot can have lots of fun without exerting much effort --
he plays with Buffy by gently grasping Buffy's head with his mouth. Buffy
doesn't mind, he loves to play with Spot and he seems to know that Spot
can't run around.
"Spot has been my dog
for over four years. On December 30, 1995, we went to the Humane Society of
Santa Clara to find a dog. Spot was in a run all alone, sleeping on a
blanket. The sign on his cage said -- 'I'm 13 1/2 years old and very sweet.
My owner died and I'm looking for a new home.' I hadn't had a dog except as
a child, so I didn't know that he was already old. He just looked sad and
gentle. The Humane Society took a picture of us together because they were
so happy we chose him.
"Spot's first few
months with us were rough. He seemed to be droopy and sad. He also chewed
everything, including his bed. I wasn't sure he would ever get over the
change. I knew his first owner had been very kind to him because he was
friendly to everyone. He also tried to sleep in my bed with me; it was clear
that had been his regular place! But that was a bit too much...I got him his
own bed to sleep in and placed it at the foot of mine. After about four
months. Spot became happy again. His period of mourning his first owner was
over, and he had adjusted to his new home and new life. He has been a happy
dog ever since.
"Spot has trouble
walking, but he doesn't let that keep him from getting around. He is on
Rimadyl, and this medicine makes a tremendous difference in his quality of
life. When he is feeling really good, sometimes he will even trot for a few
steps. On a walk, he always wants to meet every dog or neighbor he sees on
the street. I don't put him on a leash, so that he can have all the freedom
he wants to follow his nose and sniff. But he can't get away from me...I
just hang onto his fur if he attempts to follow someone else. If he gets
tired, I put him in a child's wagon and pull him along.
"Last summer, in the
middle of the night, Spot woke me up because of his pacing. He had a case of
bloat, unusual in an older dog and a very serious problem that needed
immediate attention. Luckily, I had actually seen an episode about bloat on
'Emergency Vet' on Animal Planet, so I knew what it was. I rushed him to the
emergency animal clinic. The vet on duty was hesitant to operate given
Spot's advanced age, but I convinced her that he was healthy enough. The
operation was several hours long -- cutting open the stomach, untwisting it,
sewing it to the rib cage so this doesn't happen again. The few days after
the operation were also a critical time...many dogs die of heart problems
caused by the bloat. But Spot recovered completely.
"Spot and Buffy often
come to work with me. They love to be in the office because everyone is nice
to them. Spot stays in my office and sleeps all day. Spot deserves this
award, not only for himself, but as a poster dog for all older pets. Despite
his being old when I got him, we've already had four great years together,
and maybe we will have still one more. As an elder states-dog he is not
rambunctious, doesn't have anything left to prove, is comfortable with his
doggy-persona, and is a great mentor for Buffy. (Contributed by Cynthia
Typaldos, December 2000; written in January 2000 as an entry in a contest
for "best pet in the world"; Spot died on June 22, 2000 at age
18.) Posted December 2000. |
|
The Life and
Times of Buttercup
I lay here once more on the edge of this bed.
I snuggle and cuddle close next to his head.
I feel the soft blanket under my tummy.
I know in the dish I have food that is yummy.
Clean cool water to drink is there for me too.
I even have a chew toy that was once his shoe.
I give him my love all I have here to give.
Let me stay close to him and forever more live.
I once sat all alone in a cold wire cage.
Making puppies for pet stores because that was the rage.
I lived there in that puppymill to the ripe age of ten.
It was a terrible place living there in that pen.
I often times wonder where my babies are at night.
I hope for a scrap of food they don't have to fight.
My hips got bad from living on that wire.
Having someone to love was my only desire.
Then one day they sent me to an auction to sell.
I knew in my heart it must be better than this hell.
I couldn't believe all the dogs in that place.
The one next to me kept growling in my face.
Soon off to the table it was my turn to go.
I looked at the people trying to see anyone I know.
The people looked at me and started to bid.
I wished I wasn't here, just wish that I'd hid.
Then off from the back of the room I did see.
The face of an angel looking right straight at me.
The angel raised his arm and began to shout.
I'll take her myself, I'll pay that amount.
Then I was carried away to a cage one last time.
I'd tried to be good and committed no crime.
The cages were opened and dogs left that place.
When my cage was opened I saw the angels face.
He picked me up and held me even though I smelled bad.
I knew by his voice the angel wasn't mad.
Then off to this place that I now call home.
By his side I will stay and never more roam.
I must have been blessed some time long ago.
Because when he holds me tight I just seem to glow.
I often times think about my life long ago.
Rescue people are really angels you know.
They save us from places called puppymills you see.
I pray all my brothers and sisters will someday be free.
Author Unknown
"Few things in this modern world remain all black and
white,
But one which surely does is cruelty to animals.
There is simply no excuse for it-any time, any place , for
any reason."
|
|
|
| Mr.
Peepers is my double dapple, blind and deaf Dachshund.
Until he was rescued in
January 2001 he lived the first two years of his life in a puppy mill in
west Tennessee. The 55 gallon barrel you see in the picture is where he
lived. His only cover and shade from the heat, cold, rain and snow. He
was used as a breeder to produce dapple or spotted Dachshunds. He was just
one of several hundred dogs that existed in pens such as these with little
or no human contact and never any love or kindness.
The area these dogs were kept
was about a mile away from the owner's house, well hidden at the bottom of a
long hill and near a creek in a large grove of trees. The breeder had about
150 dogs in this area and we were told she came once a week to feed, water
and check on them. The place was terrible, slimy water buckets, spoiled,
wet food in dirty feeders.
The puppies born there lived
in terrible conditions such as the pens in the next pictures. Many never
survived to know the love and kindness that every puppy should. When we
heard about this place, we were told that the breeder was going to take the
dogs she no longer used for breeding, ones with health problems and the
older ones that could no longer produce the big litters to a dump box near
Dixon, TN. When she got there it had been closed down. This is where she had
been taking her unwanted dogs. We were told if we did not take them the next
day she would dump them on a country road to fend for themselves! We
agreed to take several of the dogs that she wanted to "get rid
of." When we got there we were told about the "other dog."
The one they didn't think anyone would ever want. The one they had been
hiding away.
The moment I saw him I knew
he was mine and would be going home with me. There was an instant bond
between Mr. Peepers and me. He knew nothing about how to be a real dog. He
would run away and hide and was afraid of everything and everyone -- except
me. All he had ever known was that barrel and breeding and waiting anxiously
for someone to bring him food or water. I knew at that minute he would never
be hungry or thirsty again as long as we were
together.
Mr. Peepers rode all the way
home on may lap and actually started to enjoy a little "snuggle
time." He has been my almost constant companion ever since that
day. He has learned to come to me by smell. I can blow my breath in his
direction and he comes trotting to me. He walks well on a leash and loves
people. He knows where the back door is and goes to it to go out to potty --
he even goes up and down the stairs.
When Mr. Peepers first came
home with me he was afraid of everything, he would try to run and hide. Now
when he meets a new person he will often give them a big kiss! He loves the
children and enjoys licking fingers with all the good stuff on them.
Mr. Peepers is a real ham for
the camera. Even though he's blind, he seems to know when you're taking his
picture.Today, he is a wonderful dog. He does most of the things that the
other dogs do. He plays, runs, feels the sunshine on his face, enjoys a big
rib bone and most of all -- he knows what it is to be loved. He even
has my husband singing to him! He puts his face against Peepers cheek and he
can feel the vibrations from Bill's voice. He will sit an 'listen"
while his Dad sings to him!
Is he spoiled? Yes Sir! And
he deserves every bit of it! Sometimes people feel sorry for him, but he
does not miss his sight or hearing because he never had it. He smells, feels
and tastes and most of all he loves -- me -- his Mom -- forever! (pic#7)
Here he is peeking (by scent) out from under my computer desk, just making
sure I am near.
To my best buddy, Peeps...
I love you. Your mom, Jackie.
|
How
many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true?
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
- W.B Yeats. |
I would like to share the story of Bocelli, my
11-year-old rescue Schnoodle.
In March 2001
a small, skinny, blind, lame, heartworm-positive Schnauzer/poodle mix was
turned in to the Humane Society of Greater Miami because his owners were
moving. The Receiving Manager knew immediately the little old guy
was unadoptable, but everyone in the department was charmed by his
sweetness and saddened by his calm acceptance of his apparent
fate. Once placed inside the cold metal cage, he curled himself into
a tight little ball in the far corner and closed his sightless
eyes. He refused to eat, drink, or potty.
Several
people in the department mentioned the little dog to me, but I was
already mom to three small dogs, one a puppy mill rescue, and I felt like
I had my hands full. I made some calls to local breed rescue
groups, but nobody wanted to take on a dog with so many strikes against
him. Finally, unable to come up with a better solution, I walked
over to his cage, took him into my arms, and said a little prayer.
The dirty little dog relaxed against me immediately, and snuggled his
dark head over my heart. He's lived in my heart ever since.
A rescue
friend named him Bocelli after the blind Italian opera singer.
Initially he
couldn't begin heartworm treatment because he was too thin and
weak. In addition to heartworm disease and arthritis, he was also
anemic and hypoglycemic. This poor old gentleman had apparently
never received adequate veterinary care, and had certainly never
experienced much, if any, love and affection.
After a month
of good food and supplements, Bo's weight shot up to a sturdy 12 pounds,
and his veterinarian felt comfortable in commencing the treatment.
When I left Bocelli at the clinic that day, they put him in a similar
metal cage. My heart broke as I watched him curl up in a tiny ball
and close his eyes, just as he had done at the shelter. No words I
could speak would convince him I would return to retrieve him. I
left the clinic with tears spilling. Heartworm treatment is difficult for
any dog at any age, but particularly dangerous for an elderly dog in
questionable health. One month to the day after his first shot,
Bocelli suffered congestive heart failure and collapsed. I rushed
him to the emergency clinic at 11:00 p.m. one night, clad only in the tee
shirt I was sleeping in. I must have been a sight in my bare feet
and incorrigible red hair, rushing through the waiting room clutching an
unconscious Bocelli, with the panicked tears streaming down my face. What
followed were fourteen days of pure hell, with Bocelli on five different
medications and three different veterinarians' predictions that he would
not survive. Tactful but repeated references to "The
Decision" were made.
During this
time Bocelli never left my side for so much as a minute, and slept draped
across my chest every night. I barely even closed my eyes, always
listening for his shallow, labored breathing. And I prayed, nearly every
waking moment, that God would grant this sweet boy a chance, for however
short or long He deemed suitable, for time of disease, pain and neglect,
to enjoy a full tummy and an abundance of hugs and love. In spite of all
the odds against this precious creature, not only did Bocelli pull
through, but he is today an amazingly healthy, spunky and <blush>
very horny old guy. His veterinarians call him the Miracle Dog,
because medically there was little hope for him to even survive, much
less thrive.
Bocelli is
now heartworm-negative and on preventative. I control his heart
condition with a healthy diet and close monitoring. He is a world
class snuggler and, in spite of being neutered late in life, he also
enjoys humping just about anything that will hold still long enough.
God bless my
sweet old gentleman, for however long or short he may grace my lap.
Bocelli will, however, live forever in my heart.
Kind regards,
Bekye & the Living Floor
Mops ~
Suzi (Bichon Frise BYB
rescue), Abby (Shih Tzu, my only non-rescue dog), Leaky Billy (Maltese
PMR), Bocelli (elderly, blind Schnoodle), Honey (Shihtzutese with chronic
hepatitis) and Duke (Lhasa Apso with neurological damage resulting from
abuse)
|
|
An
Old Dog's Story
One by
one they pass by my cage...too old, too worn, too broken, no way.
Way past his time, he can't run and play!
They shake their heads slowly and
go on their way.
A little old man, arthritic and sore, it seems I am not wanted
anymore.
I once had a home, I once had a bed, a place that was warm,
and
where I was fed.
Now my muzzle is grey, and my eyes slowly fail...
who wants a dog so old and
so frail?
My family decided I didn't belong, I got in their way,
my attitude was
wrong.
Whatever excuse they made in their head ,
can't justify how they
left me for dead.
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day,
The younger dogs get
adopted away.
When I had almost come to the end of my rope, you saw my face,
and I
finally had hope.
You saw thru the grey, and the legs bent with age
and felt I still had life
beyond this cage.
You took me home, gave me food and a bed,
and shared your own
pillow with my poor tired head.
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low,
You love me so dearly, you
want me to know.
I may have lived most of my life with another,
but you outshine them
with a love so much stronger.
And I promise to return all the love I can give,
To you, my dear
person, as long as I live.
I may be with you for a week, or for years,
We will share many
smiles, you will no doubt shed tears.
And when the time comes that God deems I must leave,
I know you will
cry and your heart, it will grieve.
And when I arrive at the Bridge, all brand new,
My thoughts and
my heart will still be with you.
And I will brag to all who will hear,
Of the person who made my last
days so dear.
|
|
Maya's Page -
And Why the "MY"
 When
I was a kid I read a fairy tale about a Princess who had been turned into
a white cat by a witch. The Prince who came to break the spell could only
do so by bringing the Princess 3 gifts-one of which was "the worlds
smallest dog".
He returned to the castle with the gifts but when she asked for the
dog-he gave her a walnut! The Princess was amazed for when she opened the
walnut, there inside, was a tiny white dog!  That
image stuck in my head. I've had dogs my entire life but never a toy dog.
When my dogs, Daisy, Shotzie and Lady reached 20, 19 and 12 years I found
myself longing for a puppy and since I wasn't as energetic as I once was
a toy breed seemed perfect!
I researched several
toys, got down to six and ended up with Chihuahua's because they fit all
my needs and wants. I couldn't find a breeder in our area so I went to a
pet shop bad move but it worked out in this case). They had two Chi's-a
brother and sister. As I watched the lovely fawn male prance back and
forth, my eye caught sight of movement in the back of the cage. There, in
the food bowl, curled up in a ball, was the loveliest, most perfect,
whitest dog I had ever seen! I had my "Walnut Dog"!
I named her Maya. Pat,
my husband, (who had threatened divorce if I brought home a Chihuahua-it
seemed his Aunt had an ankle biter) wouldn't even look at her when we got
home. "Alright", I said, "she'll be "MY"
dog!" By that evening he adored her. Since then, every one of my
Chihuahuas names have begun with "MY". Maya brought new
life to my other dogs until they went to Rainbow Bridge all in one year
within a few months of each other. Maya will be 13 soon-she is
exceptional, she is my heart. She has grade 2 patella luxation, several
allergies and a very slow metabolism (she can look at food and gain
weight!) which is why, I suspect, she and her brother were in a pet
shop. It broke my heart when I realized she could never be
bred but at least I have her. She is "The Queen", the Alpha Dog
of this little pack. She excelled at OB training (no jumps!) and Therapy
Work until her knees made it too uncomfortable to do either.
She gets around well and Pat has built several ramps for her to use (she
can't jump up or down) and she can accelerate to lightening speeds when
annoyed by a wayward pup!
Maya is responsible for my love of
this breed, my rescue work and for changing the minds of hundreds of
die-hard Chihuahua haters! I Thank her daily for letting me in on
her world and for fulfilling the dream of the little girl inside me.
My Chihuahuas love to hunt for and eat (yuck!) WORMS! I
call it Searching for "Spice" (if you are a "Dune"
fan you'll understand!)
|
>br>
|
DEAF DOG
TESTIMONIALS!
Over the past few weeks it has come
to my attention that there are some breeds that are considered higher risk
dogs than other breeds when dealing with deafness. Because of this a
lot of the "parent" breed club rescues do not become involved with
the placement of these handicapped animals. A lot have concerns for
lawsuits because a specific animal might possibly nip, bite etc. And
they do not wish to risk being sued. That is their right of course and I am
not here to pass judgment on any of them. However, I PERSONALLY feel
this sends out the wrong signal to people considering adoption. If the
breed clubs do not stand behind the temperament of their breed it is a
negative signal. Because of this I have added this area for owners of
deaf dogs to share their stories. I had originally intended this to be
primarily for Jack Russell Terriers since this is the breed of my own deaf
boy (and where I first realized not every breed club supports this
handicap). However, there are a lot of breeds who routinely have deaf dogs
and a lot are in this higher risk group. It is my opinion that each
and every dog should always be judged on himself as an individual.
Sure, all breeds have breed traits! But within that space beats a
heart. And the heart and personality of each are as different as
snowflakes! |
|
Ludwig's Story
|
|
|
Ludwig
Von Beethoven |
I
was totally depressed one day and sought distraction through email.
Someone had sent me an email about a deaf Jack Russell puppy needing a
home. (The breeder was avoiding having to put him down). I
responded thinking I would be a good candidate since I am an interpreter and
work with American Sign Language. Much to my dismay the Breeder was hesitant
to let me take the puppy home
because I had no experience with Jack Russells. I tried to
convince her to please let me try it and it worked. Thus, Ludwig.
He has changed my life in so many ways. First, by
introducing such wonderful people in my life. Because of him, I got
involved with Florida Russell Rescue and have made best friends thru work.
Ludwig is very intelligent. He understands everything I tell him -
whether he chooses to listen, that is another story:) I have
taught him the signs for "eat and food." When I sign it, he
runs to the kitchen. He knows "drink water."
"Lets go for a ride"
"Lets go for a walk." "its bath
time!" "No." "Yes"
"Good boy" "Bad boy"
"Stop!" "Where is the ball?"
"drop the ball"
"come here" "stay"
"I will be back soon." and countless
others. I not only give him short commands, but I talk to
him just like I talk to my other hearing dog. He sits attentively
until I'm done.
My experience with Ludwig has been so positive that when I'm ready to have
another Jack Russell, I will want another deaf one. He is the
light of my life and I will do anything for him. He travels with
me and is my constant companion. Deaf dogs are devoted and
wonderful and there are no problem dogs - there are mostly problem owners
that don't know how to take care or raise animals. Thus, the
animal suffers for our lack of patience.
Lidia Anorga
North Beach, Maryland
Deaf dog: Jack Russell Terrier, Ludwig V. Beethoven. 1 yr 6 months
|
Deaf Dog Links
Deaf
Dogs
The Deaf Dogs Web Page
Deaf Dog Education Action Fund
|
Website designs by
Swiftwater
Innovations
Copyright ©
2002 - All Rights Reserved |
| Textual
content and photos by LGHN. Copyright © 2002 - All Rights Reserved |
|
Updated
10-03-03 |
|