Why We Rescue: Part 3

Last night I took the kids to their first transport.
Big New Mexico transports come into Pup Tub, and they are an experience. I always leave these transports a little more emotional.
It's because there are so many dogs...good dogs that would have been killed had we not stepped up. It's because there are so many people...men and women that are spending their Saturday night washing dirty dogs, cleaning piss and vomit, picking ticks out of fur, kissing scared faces...instead of watching college football or having dinner with friends. It's beautiful.

Matt always comes, but he had a (rare) boys night planned, so it was just me this time.
And I took the kids. They watched the van pull up, filled to the brim with kennels (some with 2, 3, 4 pups inside them.) Then watched a second van pull up, filled with even more kennels. They watched the dogs put their feet on the ground - many for the first time in 10 hours or more.
Some of them come off a transport wagging their tails and licking the hands that open their kennel doors.
Some cower in the back, terrified to come out.
ALL of them are immediately loved by a whole group of people.

Fosters claim the dogs they chose online, which is sometimes more difficult than it sounds! The pictures shelters send never do a dog justice - they are ALL cuter than they look in the pictures we choose them from. But some look like entirely different dogs!
We bathe them in the tubs, scrubbing layers of dirt, feeling old scars, checking for ticks and fleas. Sometimes the dogs shy away, frightened. Sometimes they lean in, enjoying the touch.
We rub them dry, use the blow dryer if they aren't too scared. We baby talk to them in soft, low voices when they're timid and hold them close when they shake.
We take them home, feed them and give them a warm, soft bed. We comfort them when they cry, calm them when they pace, and smile to ourselves, content when they finally sigh and fall asleep...safe.

We show them kindness like they haven't seen in a long time...maybe ever. And it's a privilege to do so.

Tessa and Asher enjoyed the transport. They both love dogs and love being a foster family. This was just another piece of what we do to them, and they weren't touched like I always am. I think growing up in it gives it less of an impact. On the other hand, I think growing up in it will make it more of a natural thing to do.

We rescue for our kids. To spread love and kindness, to teach compassion for animals.

(Why We Rescue: Part 1)
(Why We Rescue: Part 2)

Photo credit to Krista Romero.

Why We Rescue: Part 2

We named the new puppy Zip, and he really did help me heal.
(see Zippy's story here.)

But I continued to think about Fury often.

In the middle of it all I began to understand how important foster care is. Getting dogs out of shelters is imperative to saving lives. So I said "one day we'll foster."

One Friday in early October I stopped into the Humane Society. My Girl Scout troop was doing a service project with HSU and I needed to talk to the volunteer coordinator. While I was there I looked at the dogs and asked the innocent question,
"where are all the puppies?"
"they're in foster care!" I was told
"ah." I said, "foster care. I've thought about fostering. One day I'd like to do that."
Almost before I knew it the Humane Society was pushing a scared, timid black lab puppy into my arms and telling me how much he needed a foster. I played the husband card, saying I'd need him to okay it before I just brought a strange dog home.
But I forgot. Matt's a sucker. And he's an even bigger sucker for a black lab. He happened to be only about 20 minutes away from the Humane Society and said he would meet me there to take a look. I left to run a quick errand up the street and when I got back I found Matt holding the puppy in his lap.

We took him home and named him Odin.

Odie was scared to death. Of everything. He was hard to foster at first, and I called in Fury's trainer (Robyn) to help me out. She provided valuable insights and gave me tips that made everything much easier.
Over the next two weeks he went from hiding under the table to sleeping on the couch, comfortable around people and dogs, not so terrified of his own shadow.
Odin was adopted after two weeks and we decided to try fostering with Rescue Rovers - the group Robyn worked with.

It's been a ride. We're just short of a year with Rescue Rovers - almost exactly a year since Odie - and we've fostered some really amazing dogs. We've considered keeping ALL of them. We've loved them, fed them, trained them and prepared them to live in a home with a family - some for the first time in their life! We've learned so much from them. About dogs and people and life in general. And even though fostering dogs has clearly turned off some of our friends and family, it's been worth it. We SAVED them. These dogs who had so much to offer and were going to be put down...we kept that from happening. It's powerful. It matters. That's why we rescue. And we have no plans to stop.

(Why We Rescue: Part 1)
(Why We Rescue: Part 3)

Why We Rescue: Part 1

So we do this dog rescue thing, and I think it's time I talk about it.

Because I can't write a short story, I'll be doing it in parts. This is part one.
Eventually, links to the later parts will be included at the bottom of this post.

Last April our dog, Fury, bit someone.
And my world fell apart.
For real.

Fury was almost 2 years old and he was wonderful...ish.
He was beautiful and loving and sweet and playful. He was loyal and protective and he was my best friend.
He was also under-socialized and he was fearful. He has anxiety, which I didn't really understand. And he was getting worse.

In late March we had a dinner party to celebrate mine and Matt's Birthdays. Our good friend, Dave, was at the party. Dave clearly made Fury nervous, and that night Fury darted in at Dave as he was walking, nipping at his heel. He was timid about it and didn't actually bite Dave, but he did catch the hem of his jeans, momentarily.

I was concerned, and so I did some googling about it and put a Caesar Chavez book on hold at the library. Life continued.

The next weekend our next door neighbors were having their lawn aerated. Fury was out back. Matt was doing homework. I was downstairs working out.
I finished my workout and came upstairs. I was standing at the sink, getting a drink of water, which the doorbell rang. Matt answered to our neighbor, who asked if we could bring Fury in, because he had bitten the guy doing they aeration.

Fast forward.

The next door neighbor (a police officer) - our "friends" - got Animal Control involved. The city pressed charges. We were ordered to put our dog down. We appealed and were granted an appeal and stay of sentence, but something changed - whether it was influenced or not, the stay we were awarded was repealed and the city impounded my dog. My poor anxiety dog was taken to a shelter and forced to live in a kennel. Without access to the outside, without love, without comfort, for over a month.
We'd been working with a private trainer for over a month by the time he was taken from us and Fury had made huge improvements, but life in an animal shelter is hard on a dog and I knew he would regress.
I took his food to the shelter so he would be eating what he liked. I took him a blanket from home that we all spent time holding close, so it would smell of us. I took him tennis balls and treats. I visited him every day they were open (Monday through Friday) for as long as they would let me (sometimes they'd give me 30 minutes, sometimes an hour or so). I wasn't allowed to take him off site to walk, even to the park next door, but I could take him into the yard. And so I'd throw a tennis ball for him, work on his training, hold him and pet him and scratch him and cry over him. Every time I went he was excited to see me. Every time I went he spent the first 10 minutes outside pooping...poor dog was so housetrained he wouldn't go potty in his kennel and it was obviously hard on him. Every time I left he looked at me, sad and confused, and I cried.

 

visiting Fury at Animal Control

In the meantime I worked on getting him back. I wrote petitions, posted online, talked to multiple trainers and had him evaluated, spoke with rescue groups all over the US, looked up cases and basically obsessed over him. And cried. A lot.
Eventually I realized we'd never get Fury back. Our neighbor was too well connected and too determined. I got a lawyer. He helped us in court. The city agreed to allow us to re-home Fury - although he ended up staying the shelter for another 2 weeks after the decision was made - even though I did everything possible to get him out sooner.

Fury, safe.

He was fostered by our trainer, who worked with Rescue Rovers, for about a month. The day I delivered him to her was incredibly bittersweet. I was relieved that he would be with someone he knew, someone I trusted not to put him in a gas chamber...yet so defeated and just devastated to know he'd never be my dog again. I didn't know what to feel more, and I couldn't make it all fit together inside me.

We adopted a puppy just a few weeks later - though I wasn't sure I was ready. The kids were, and it ended up being the right thing to do. Nothing helps you heal like love, and it's impossible not to love a puppy.

The things I remember most about Fury are these:
*the way he would come straight to me when he was let in the house, no matter who opened the door. I would kiss him between his eyes and pull on his ears and in the evenings they'd be cool from running around the yard outside.
*the way he struggled to poop when he was in lock up. It was the thing that showed me just how uncomfortable life in a shelter is for a dog.

We rescue because we've seen a dog we loved in a shelter. And we feel like it's important to save other dogs from shelter life.

(Why We Rescue: Part 2)
(Why We Rescue: Part 3)

a note - Fury's bite was quite mild. Since entering the dog rescue world I know just HOW mild. This was not an incident that should have caused the reaction it did, honestly. The rules are flexible. We got the worst of it.

Zippy's Story

My baby doodle is 1 year old!
Time to tell his story.

After the Fury drama I knew I wanted another dog. I didn't know when I would be ready, though. We still had Allie and anyway, I wanted a break.
I wanted to be a good mom for a while. A mom that didn't cry every day and spend all her time worrying about a dog. I didn't want to have to limit how long we were gone to the water park or zoo. I wanted to focus on my human children. So I thought we'd wait.
But everyone else was ready. So I started looking for a puppy.

I found one on the Facebook page for Colorado Animal Rescue (CARE). I don't even remember how I ended up there, but they had a whole litter of Whippet/Doberman mixes and they were adorable. CARE was located in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, and Matt happened to be working nearby that day, so I called him and asked him to run over and take a look if he ended up having time.
He got home late that night...he hadn't finished work until CARE was closed and hadn't looked at the puppies.
I was terribly disappointed.

The next day was Friday and Matt said he would go into work early and we could drive to Colorado to see the puppies if I wanted to. I didn't! It would be crazy to drive several hours to adopt a dog. After all, there were plenty here!...except that we'd looked. And there actually didn't seem to BE plenty here.
By mid morning I was feeling a little more open to driving to Colorado. And the kids were definitely on board. And Matt said it would be fun - a road trip! So we went.
We listened to The Red Pyramid (Rick Riordan).
We stopped for snacks at gas stations.
We got stuck in construction and our 4-5 hour drive turned into a 6.5 hour drive. We barely made it before they closed.

The story was that a family had a purebred Whippet who had an "oops" litter with the doberman down the street. And 9 puppies had been surrendered to CARE just a few days before. They were 8 weeks old...ish. We got first pick.

We took 3 into a room and watched them interact with each other and with us. We narrowed it down to 2 pretty quickly. One was a chocolate-y brown female with blue eyes. The other was a boy with brindle legs and a black saddle, a white chest and 4 white paws. Their little faces were identical other than color. We chose the boy...for no real reason other than his 4 white paws.

When we got into the car to head home I sat in the passenger seat and Matt drove. But I was irrationally uncomfortable. Not ready to love. And before we'd gone 2 blocks I made Matt pull over and change me places. I drove the 7 hours home (including the moment that I backed our brand new car into a pylon at a gas station) and he held the puppy. It was a love affair for Matt and the kids from the beginning.

It took me a few days, but in the end there was no resisting this.

We narrowed name choices down to Marvel and Newton and put a vote on Facebook. Newton won. So that's what we named him...for a few hours. Mr. Puppy had 6 or 7 names over the next few days before I finally settled on Zip. Zipper. Zippy. Zippity do-dah. Darth Zippinous.

We took him tot he vet, who estimated that he was perhaps a week or so younger than CARE had thought. We enrolled him in training classes with Robyn. We just loved him so, so, so much.

My whole life I loved dogs. a lot.
And then I had kids.
And I didn't STOP loving dogs, but I forgot how much I loved them, because I loved my humans more, and they needed me so much, and I only had so much time.
But now my humans were older and more independent and they loved dogs, too.

Over the last (almost) year Zippy has become so important to me. And I'm so glad to have him. Here's his Birthday movie.

He's such a smart, good boy. And best of all, we've done (and continue to do!) the training and socialization that make a good dog great. Love my Zip. Happy Birthday, Doodle!

When I woke up yesterday I was 35 years old.
What?
I know. But it's true.

Anyway, I thought to myself "I should do my 35 at 35!", which is a thing I used to do on Birthdays but which I'd completely forgotten about until yesterday. And I keep thinking of it. Like a song stuck in my head. So here we go.

1. Matt
Very best husband, best friend and lover of all time. Add father, handyman and shoulder to cry on to that list. I'd be lost without him.

2. Kids

Ridiculous, funny, smart, sassy, messy, sweet, helpful, naughty, infuriating and beautiful. Tessa and Asher are everything.

3. Really great friends.

The kind that bring me beautiful gifts and stay until midnight.

4. Mini-vacations to Vegas.

Once a quarter, baby. Because I need it.

5. Weekends.

I wish they were longer. Also, all weekends must have waffles made by Matt.

6. Books.

I love to read. So much.

7. Summertime.

and the livin' is easy. So many things I love about Summer it could have it's own 35 list.

8. Clean floors.
It's almost an obsessions. Floor cleaning Friday might be my favorite day of the week, even if it does only last for an hour. 

9. Dogs. 

In direct opposition to number 8, I really like dogs. My dogs, my foster dogs, other peoples dogs. In that order. Except when my dog eats my rug and falls to the bottom of that list. 

10. Staying up late.

I like to party.

I also like to watch chick tv and play online while Matt snores next to me and the whole house is quiet. Late nights are the best.
11. Good TV

I heart tv.
So. Much.

12. Games on my tablet.

Even when they insist on telling me I cannot lose stars at this rank. Thanks for that.

13. Eating good food.

Let's be honest. This should be closer to the top of the list.

14. Cooking.

Creativity and control. Also yummy-ness. These are things I like a lot.

15. Yoga.

When we were first married I made Matt take one yoga class with me.
It was a big, fat fail.
My commitment to yoga has fluctuated in the last 15 years, but right this second I happen to be very into yoga. And so is Matt. Deep breathing makes us happy :)

16. Family.

Especially the little ones. Muah!

17. Being a Pescatarian.

Not that many people know what a Pescatarian is. Spell Check definitely doesn't know what it is. It's somebody that doesn't eat meat, but does eat fish. Vegetarian + fish. In my world we eat fish maybe once a week. The rest of the time we're vegetarian. Going on 2 years now, and I love it. Makes me feel good.

18. Having people over.

I love to throw a party. Or a get-together. Or a dinner. 

19. Social Media

Because even though I feel awkward posting selfies, I like it, too. Also, stalking has never been easier.

20. Going to the movies.

Date night is the best. Seeing a good movie is even better.

21. Pretty things.

Flowers, jewelry, home decor. Sparkle. The color turquoise. Clean lines. mixed textures. Tufting. retro, vintage, modern, classic, shabby chic, elegant...so many things that I find pretty.

22. Yoga pants and hoodies.

This should be WAY higher. Yoga pants...I love you. Like, a lot. 

23. Watching TV in bed.

With my head on Matt's chest. Yes, please,

24. Showers.

Hot running water fixes a lot of things. I also tend to have really good ideas in the shower. 

25. My job.

And my boss. I got really lucky.
26. Science Fiction.
I'm no longer surprised that I'm a sci-fi nerd. Though sometimes I'm surprised by how BIG of a sci-fi nerd I am.

27. Football.

the real stuff, the little league stuff and the fantasy stuff. 

28. Sushi.

It took me 33 years to like raw fish. It gets it's own mention outside of "good food".

29. Family pictures.

Because damn, we're a good looking group of people!

30. Board games. 

Ticket to ride is a major thing around here right now.

31. Girl Scouts. 

Because it's an amazing organization and I'm proud that my daughter and I are both part of the important things they do.

32. My blankey.

Don't judge me.

33. Hiking, boating and camping.

Oh, nature. You're so good to me

34. History.

Especially English history. Just call me an Anglophile.

35. Making lists.

Because how else could I check things off?

So now it's out of my head - thank God! And I think Birthday lists are going to be a tradition around here. I'll definitely be making Tessa create her own list in a couple of months. I think she'll enjoy it.

Until next time...which hopefully won't be the morning after I wake up 36.

Thinking

I used to be a blogger.
and then I wasn't.

I started blogging for two reasons.
First, because I have a terrible memory and I loved the idea of a journal I could look back on to remind me of all the little things I know I'll forget in time. I kept a journal as an adolescent and when I've gone back and read them it's been beyond entertaining. The journals themselves are quite serious looking. Large, burgundy leather affairs with "Journal" embossed on the front in gold. My entries, however,would be better suited to one of those small,silly pink books with a delicate gold lock on the front. Frivolous. I wrote almost entirely about boys. Giddy, foolish things. And yet I love looking back at my past self, even if she is embarrassing at times. I know looking back at these days will be really important and...beautiful, I think.
So first - to remember.
Second was to write something. Anything.
A blogger is not a writer. Or, at least not all bloggers are writers. Some are. Some are amazing. But most are just normal people, at home in their sweats, pouring their poorly worded thoughts onto the internet.
I have a 25 year old elementary school assignment by Mandy Wilde that says "When I grow up I want to be..." and I filled in "a writer." At the top of the page in the area left for a drawing is a girl with crayola red hair scribbled around her face with a pencil and a piece of paper.
In middle school I excelled at essays and book reports. In high school I first wrote for, them became editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. In college I chose Journalism as my major and wrote for the school paper. Then I (briefly) changed my major to Technical Writing, then Public Relations and finally settled on English. All I wanted was to write...but I didn't know what or how and eventually I decided that my area of study (none of them!) were the kind that helped a person get a job or earn a living and I just quit. I thought, if I want to write I can do it anytime or anywhere, right?
Except I never did.
I know how to write. Don't use this as a measure of my skill - this is just what the title says it is - thinking. I'm a good writer. (Cocky, much?) I even think I could write a good book. But I lack ideas and follow through and ideas and focus and ideas. And did I mention ideas? Because I don't have any.
So second - to write

I loved blogging. But it's HARD! It takes time and focus! I'm not the best at focusing on things like this - I have housework ADD. I've written one page of words and it's taken me an hour. I've stopped and left the computer SEVERAL times. Twice to untangle the puppy from his tether outside. Once to boil water for tea. Once to let the puppy inside. Once to take a washcloth away from him that he pulled from the pile of clean laundry on the couch. That time I actually folded all that laundry and put it away. Once to take the boiling kettle off the stove and pour the water in to my teapot. That time I wiped down the counter and made myself a piece of toast, too.
When I add in all those things an hour at the computer doesn't sound like a ridiculous amount of time...but it feels like it. It feels like sitting around and wasting time. So that's part of why it's hard.

But I think it's important, and I enjoy it, so I'm going to try to come back to blogging. I'm going to try not to obsess over the time I missed and just move forward with the memories. Wish me luck.

Schools Out! (Tessa)

Another school year is over - this one flew by even faster than the others have, I think.

First Days of School - September 2011

Tessa had a wonderful 4th grade year. I was her PE mom this year, which meant that I took the kids out for 30 minutes of PE every Wednesday afternoon. This was SUCH a fun job to do - we played lots of kickball and many different versions of Sharks and Minnows. We also had some "special" PE's - at Thanksgiving time we played flag football, in the Spring we played soccer and at the end of the year we had a jump rope tournament.

School picture - I considered a re-take because of her messy hair, but in the end decided to keep it. It is SO Tessa!

She got to take her first field trip this year! Field trips are a rarity these days - especially at Charter Schools - but in 4th grade everyone gets to visit the water treatment facility. Asher and I went along as helpers and really enjoyed it - I learned a lot!

 Asher on the field trip

 My big girl

 The whole class

Tessa and I

We only had one naughty Tessa incident this year...which I feel obligated to share - for posterity ;)
4th graders learn about Mountain Men in Utah. This is a favorite unit for most of the kids, and Tessa loved it, too. She was assigned a specific Mountain Man (explorer Father Dominguez) and was supposed to look up 5-7 facts about him and bring them to school.
I helped her look up the facts and put them on paper - made her do 7 instead of just 5, like she wanted to, because I'm a slave driver. Then I asked what they were doing with the facts.
Tessa - "Making a poster."
Me - "Wait, we need to make a poster???"
Tessa - "No, we're making it in class."
Me - "So do I need to get you a poster board or anything?"
Tessa - "No, Miss Lloyd is bringing all the supplies. We just need the facts."

A few weeks later, when I was in the school for my PE Mom job, I noticed the hallway displays had been changed to Mountain Man posters, but I couldn't find Tessa's. So I asked her about it that evening.
Me - "Hey, I saw the Mountain Man posters in the hall at school, but I couldn't find yours. Where is it?"
Tessa - "did you see the ones in the classroom?"
Me - "Oh, no...I didn't notice them in there."
Tessa - "Yeah, that's where mine is."

Long story somewhat shorter...
Tessa is a big fat liar. At Parent-Teacher Conferences that quarter I found out that the one assignment Tessa was missing was the Mountain Man poster. It was NOT done in class.
For the rest of the year her teacher was very diligent about making sure I knew exactly what was due, and for her part, Tessa didn't try any more funny business. I think she was too afraid to - Mommy and Daddy were not thrilled about her (disturbingly elaborate) lie.

Other than that, the year was perfect.
We loved her teacher, Miss Lloyd. Overall we've been very lucky with teachers at Summit, and every year we are sorry to say goodbye.
I find it impossible to believe that she will be in 5th grade this Fall. She seems so much younger than that! In the meantime, though, we are more than ready for Summer!!!