Hattie, R.I.P.

A wonderful creature, Manhattan, known to all her friends as Hattie, a white Greyhound with tan markings, crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Wednesday, October 2. I first met Hattie in the Spring of 2008 the day I met Marilyn and her pack to walk our dogs in a park close to my home. Marilyn's dogs were Franklin, Ruby and Hattie. My dogs were Portia and Bingley. Bingley is the only survivor of that group. Like most of Marilyn's dogs, Hattie was a dog who had had difficulty finding a forever home. She suffered from an auto-immune disorder that made her a little "touchy" and cranky. She required special care, both medically and emotionally. And she was most fortunate that she found Marilyn, one of the best humans in the world for being able and willing to offer that care. Both canine and human health issues have created a long hiatus in Marilyn's and my weekly walks in the park. I am reminded of the line from Emily Dickinson: To make routine a stimulus, remember it can cease. Farewell, dear Hattie. May you run and play free of pain in the meadows beyond the Rainbow Bridge.

Ralphie: In Memoriam

It is with a breaking heart that I typed the title of this post. Ralphie, a wonderful Wired Hair Fox Terrier crossed the Rainbow Bridge early Sunday morning, June 2, 2013, leaving a bereft family and grieving friends. Ralphie was the epitome of the best of his breed: independent of spirit but affectionate, loyal but not cloying, full of the pure joy of life that was infectious when he was in a room. Our heartfelt condolences are extended to his immediate family, Linda, Ryan, Jen, Jason and Brecken. Each of Ralphie's multitude of friends and admirers will have his or her personal memories of him. I had long dreamed of having a Wired Hair Fox Terrier of my own, but my canine choices had taken me in other directions. So I was thrilled to meet Ralphie and get to know him. He didn't disappoint. He embodied the panache that is unique to his breed. Farewell, dear Ralphie. We love to think of you, restored to perfect health, romping and getting into no end of mischief on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

Sugar, R.I.P.

These past weeks have been a season of loss for my friends and family. A third dog, Sugar, a ten year old Rottweiler, passed away about ten days ago. Sugar joined my hairdresser's family when, as a year old, she was abandoned on the streets of Oceanside, California. She hung around the Starbuck's that my hairdresser's husband frequented, surviving on treats she begged from customers. My hairdresser's husband couldn't stand her plight and brought her home to join the canine family they already had: Rocco, a big, serious male Rottweiler, Ginger, a sweet Golden Retriever mix, and Klondike, a Newfoundland-Labrador mix. Sugar managed to let each dog know that she respected them and would not intrude on their territory. Somewhere along the line, two Rat Terriers, Tim and Jim, joined the pack. Rocco, Ginger, and Klondike crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and Sugar was left as the only "adult" with the little rascals, Tim and Jim. She was a quiet presence, wandering in and out of the hair studio, sunning by the pool, graciously greeting guests and then leaving them alone. Now she is gone and my deepest condolences go to her family.

Lucy, R.I.P.

Lucy crossed the Rainbow Bridge yesterday in the company of those who loved her. I cannot write a better tribute to her than Barbara has. But I do treasure the memory of meeting her. It always amazes me how dogs who have suffered neglect and probably cruelty can decide to trust human beings again. They seem to have an inner compass that tells them, "These are good people." Please pray for Lucy's family as they grieve the loss of an exceptional canine companion.

Rescue Saints

As I have often said, dog rescue is not for the faint of heart. It is frequently heartbreaking. Too many dogs are being bred on purpose and too many dogs breed "accidentally" because their owners will not spay or neuter them. The only people who should even be thinking about breeding dogs are people who are devoted to a specific breed and who are active in the show world. That is a very limited number of people. These are interesting times for Greyhound rescue. Interesting in the sense of "May you live in interesting times." Tracks are closing down. The Greyhound racing industry is hitting hard financial times, and thousands of dogs are in need of rescue. The sad fact is, many thousands will not be rescued in time, but will be destroyed. Greyhound Adoption Center is unique among rescues in that it has kennel facilities for up to fifty dogs. And recently, the kennel has been operating at close to capacity. As racing kennels and breeding farms are being emptied, we are seeing some old dogs who had the bad luck to be chosen for breeding when their careers as racers were over. Eight and nine year old brood bitches and breeding studs are not at the top of the "adoptable" list. So when one of them finds a home, it is a cause for great joy. Yesterday, that happened. Some people are rescue saints. About four years ago Greyhound Adoption Center had a hard to place dog, a handsome dog with "issues". Then a couple, knowing his history, took him home, loved him, and gave him a wonderful life. Last week, while he was running around the backyard, one of his legs shattered. The nightmare of any Greyhound lover. It was bone cancer, and the dog had to be euthanized immediately to put him out of horrific pain. The couple was devastated with grief. But they knew that there would be another hard to place dog at GAC. So yesterday they went to the kennel and made friends with an eight year old who had been used as a brood. She also had a broken ankle that had not been attended to and so it healed incorrectly. She's a dark brindle with tuxedo markings and her face is beginning to turn grey. Against all odds, she has a wonderful new home and will live out her years as a treasured companion. The grief of losing a dog is unspeakable. People have to come to terms with that loss on their own timetable. But some people are able to reach out to another needy dog as a way to cope with their loss. Bless them.

Farewell to Finn

For years now, I have gotten most of my news from the internet. I'm still amazed at the instant access to an infinite variety of information and opinion that is available with a few clicks. As I have mentioned, my husband, John, is English by birth, and since I am American to the marrow, I am acutely mindful that our countries of origin, while deceptively similar, are actually distinct and different. So I am always interested in reading English reaction to things American. My favorite English reporter of American events is Toby Harnden, who was writing for the Telegraph when I first encountered him, but has since moved to the Daily Mail. I learned yesterday that I like much more about Toby Harnden than just his excellent reporting. He is a very good human being. How do I know? I know because he rescued a scruffy dog, endured said dog's destructive expressions of separation anxiety, took the dog with him on his world travels, incorporated the dog into his new life when he married and became the father of two children. Believe me. In my work in dog rescue, I know all too well that there are all too many people who would have decided that any one of those life events posed too many challenges and would have given up the dog. Finn, the dog in question, lived a long and eventful life, fulfilling the role in Harnden's life, and then his wife's and childrens' lives that dogs were designed by our Creature to fulfill. But inevitably, since dogs' life spans are shorter than human's, Finn's life is now over. But Toby Harnden, being the great reporter that he is, has made an important contribution to the select body of literature about the unique and powerful bond between dogs and humans. I would love to provide a hot link to Harnden's tribute to Finn, but I continue to have technical problems doing that. So please, take the time to go to www.dailymail.co.uk--find Harden's byline, and be sure to have your Kleenex handy. UDATE: Here is a cold link to cut and paste to access Harnden's tribute to Finn: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2166356/Finn-peace-buried-overlooking-creek-loved-swim-run-TOBY-HARNDEN-recounts-final-heart-rending-days-beloved-rescue-dog-sleep-arms.html

Franklin, R.I.P.

Today is a day of mourning in our household. A great dog and good friend of Bingley and Magic has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Franklin was the senior member of our walking group. Marilyn adopted him when he was a fifteen month old stray, covered with mange. She loved him and nursed him back to health. His mange-covered body was replaced by a beautiful red-tan coat. He turned eleven years old in February and tomorrow would have marked the tenth anniversary of his adoption. Franklin was a Greyhound mix--with what breed, it's hard to say. But he loved "passing" as a Greyhound, and until he became too ill, he was the star of Show and Tells. In spite of arthritis, Franklin loved his walks and was a real trouper right up to the end. But cancer of the liver put him into a steep decline over the past few days, and so Marilyn, Jerry and Josh, those who loved him best in the world, made the heartbreaking decision this morning and were with him at the end. Franklin is now free of pain, frolicking with Ariel, Ruby and Portia. We will miss you, Franklin. Deepest condolences to Marilyn, Jerry and Josh.

Miss Magic: Happy At Last-- We Hope

Today is the second anniversary of the day--or more accurately, evening--that Magic came to live with us.

No generalizations can be made about rescues, except to say they all require patience and, given enough time, they will probably let down their defenses and show you who they really are.

We don't know many exact details of Magic's life in her original location. I won't dignify the place by calling it a home. She was kept for long hours in an outdoor cage in the High Desert of California. That means blistering hot summer days and freezing cold winter nights. She was exercised: her muscle tone is excellent. She was bred to an ex-racing Greyhound and had at least 3 puppies in one litter. We suspect she had other litters and, perhaps, more puppies in that last litter.

We do know that Magic, three of her puppies, and the puppies' father were rescued by Greyhound Adoption Center in July, 2008. We know that Magic "did not kennel well." She barked whenever a human passed her kennel and was very opinionated about which volunteers she would tolerate in her presence. Men were not on her favorites list. When she opened TWO locked gates and led a little band of escapees out of the kennel, a foster home was found for her. A foster home with a high fence and secure gates!

Magic adapted to her new home where she was the seventh of seven canines. The first night when all of the resident dogs knew when to line up in the kitchen for their daily treat, Magic joined the line like an old hand. She kept to herself, but quickly established that SHE would be FIRST in or out of an open door. Her fantastic acceleration settled any dispute. To this day, it's not a good idea to be standing in the open doorway to the backyard if Magic is entering or exiting.

Magic also formed her first loving bonds with humans: her foster mother and her foster mother's daughter. Indeed, as weeks and months passed, her foster mother became convinced that Magic needed to be in a much smaller pack in order to receive the human attention that she obviously craved.

Magic had never been removed from the adoptable list at Greyhound Adoption Center, but she was not an easy dog to place. She was not a "pure-bred" Greyhound, but a "Fuzzy"--a Scottish Deerhound/Greyhound mix. She did not "sell" herself, but tended to maintain distance from new people--especially men. And, she clearly required an exceptionally secure environment. No one could forget her "kennel break."

Magic's foster mother set up a website to introduce Magic to prospective adopters and continued to do all she could to meet Magic's emotional needs while trying to find her "forever home."

About that time, John, Bingley and Portia were attacked by a loose dog and Portia died of her wounds. Either you know how painful it is to lose a beloved pet or you don't. If you know, you understand the grief that descended upon our household.

Meanwhile, when Bingley was sufficiently recovered from his wounds, we resumed our weekly walks in the park with Marilyn and her pack, which then consisted of Franklin, Hattie, and the late, much loved, Ruby. Marilyn had started to work on the profiling team at GAC, the team that matches prospective adopters with suitable dogs.

Having had sufficient experience with the loss of a loved dog, John and I knew that for us, there is never a complete end to mourning the loss. But there is a time when the sheer rawness of the pain fades just enough that we can think about rescuing another dog.

So, in September after Portia's death, we went to the kennel at Greyhound Adoption Center and met some dogs. None of the "likelies" were ready for adoption and we were planning a trip to England in November. Perhaps we would wait and look again when we came home.

Then in late October, Marilyn called me. "What about Magic?"

Indeed. I had always been charmed by the rare Fuzzies who came through Greyhound Adoption Center.

So a few days after we returned from England, Magic came to live with us.

Her mourning for her foster mother was awful to witness. She was confused by Bingley's expectations of the rowdy play he had been accustomed to with Portia. She wasn't accustomed to carpeting and house training broke down. And she wasn't at all sure that she wanted to be in the same room with John. She really didn't trust men. She wasn't accustomed to walks, and was easily startled.

And every time she went out to the backyard, she would tour the perimeter, looking for escape.

But eventually she settled in. John worked hard to earn her trust. First she learned to stay in a room with him. Then he could walk by her and she wouldn't move. Now she greets him and asks for pats. She has even decided that he can be trusted to put on her collar, harness and leashes.

She and Bingley have negotiated their arranged association. She's a little pushy and he's a good sport. But when he has reached his limit, he lets her know and she shows her respect for him. Usually, he exits the back door first, she enters first. If John and I walk them, Magic is more comfortable with John and Bingley in the lead and Magic and I trail along. But the best way to get Magic's attention is to pay Bingley attention. If I'm patting him for very long, I usually feel Magic's nose under my hand. That's when I call her Miss Me Me.

She insists on her exclusive snuggle time with me in the morning and usually naps in the room where I am working.

Her last Big Fear is of fire in the living room fireplace. Tonight is a cold, rainy night. I stayed in the bedroom with Magic and Bingley while John started the fire. She was brave enough to move into the kitchen for dinner, and even permitted John to put on her harness and leash for a short walk before the worst of the storm hit.

I tried to tempt her to come into the living room, but she's not ready to be that close to the fireplace. So she's here, lying on some cushions in my study as I type.

We have one more challenge before Miss Magic is completely happy in our home. We'll do our best. She's worth it.

UPDATE:

After I finished typing last night's post, I went into the living room and sat on the sofa opposite the fireplace. Who appeared and lay beside me on the sofa, but Miss Magic herself! I think it helped that there was no popping wood being burned last night, but, even so, we have passed a Big Milestone.

Domino, R.I.P.

Friends of Portia extends its deepest condolences to Janet, Mark and Christian on the loss of their beloved Dalmatian blend, Domino. When she stopped eating and could no longer enjoy daily walks, it was clear that she was slipping away. A sweet, faithful companion has been released from pain, but leaves an empty place in the lives of those who loved her.