Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Back from the Brink in Missouri: Prop B to Bring End to Puppy Mill Cruelty
http://hsus.typepad.com/wayne/2010/11/missouri-prop-b-victory.html
FROM A RESCUE GROUP: This is the top story all across the rescue world today. We are looking at probably thousands of dogs being dumped in the next 12 months. I wish I had more foster homes who are ready and willing to take one or two of these dogs in over the next year. If we don't they will be killed like disposable stock. I wish more people would look into their hearts to find a place to help."
Contact Northcentral Maltese Rescue, Inc., if you would like to foster a Maltese. http://malteserescue.homestead.com/
Foster information on website.
FROM A RESCUE GROUP: This is the top story all across the rescue world today. We are looking at probably thousands of dogs being dumped in the next 12 months. I wish I had more foster homes who are ready and willing to take one or two of these dogs in over the next year. If we don't they will be killed like disposable stock. I wish more people would look into their hearts to find a place to help."
Contact Northcentral Maltese Rescue, Inc., if you would like to foster a Maltese. http://malteserescue.homestead.com/
Foster information on website.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Lawmakers re-examining animal cruelty laws - WLBT 3 - Jackson, MS:
Lawmakers re-examining animal cruelty laws - WLBT 3 - Jackson, MS:
This article says, in part:
Due to the current animal cruelty laws in Mississippi, a woman who was caught harboring 130 dogs in squalid conditions in Pearl River County last month won't be punished.
"She really didn't have a consequence. It's an agreement she limit herself to ten dogs," says Lydia Sattler, Director of the Mississippi Chapter of the Humane Society of the United States. Sattler helped investigate the puppy mill, and helped with the seizure of the animals.
Under stricter laws, the woman might have been levied a fine or forced into counseling.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Seeing the Suffering of Puppy Mills Firsthand
By Liz Bergstrom
After working at The Humane Society of the United States for more than two years, I had seen plenty of videos and photos of the squalid conditions at puppy mills across the country. I had seen images of dogs caked with their own waste, living in cramped conditions, or with rotten teeth and clouded eyes. Still, none of this made it easy to see the consequences of a puppy mill firsthand. Read more about the rescue »
I went along on my first puppy mill rescue in rural Mississippi after HSUS and its Wilde Puppy Mill Task Force were called in to help by local law enforcement. Our convoy of cars and transport vehicles, filled with HSUS staff and volunteers from other animal groups, pulled up to the property one muggy July afternoon.
Once the sheriff's department had served the warrant, spurred by concerns about the conditions of the dogs at the facility, I followed our team down the long, unpaved driveway hemmed in by trees. Though the sun had already started to get lower in the sky, the sweltering, oppressive heat showed no sign of letting up.
A disturbing scene
I saw the house come into view at the end of the driveway. I had just heard other team members describe how dog waste was piled on the floor inside and how the caustic air made their lungs and eyes burn.
Even from outside the house, I could smell overpowering ammonia from accumulated urine and hear the dogs barking and yipping nervously. They had no way of knowing that this would be the last day they would be forced to live in their own excrement, crowded together with other dogs and deprived of the care they needed.
While experienced animal handlers strapped respirators over their faces and went inside, I assisted at a table outside where team members recorded basic information about the animals, took photos, and attached collars for identification. Nearby, a veterinarian and transport vehicles were at the ready.
Breath of fresh air
Soon I saw the first dogs being carried out of the harsh fumes inside the house. They breathed fresh air for the first time in who knows how long. Nearly all the dogs were small breeds, so some of them came out two by two, the rescuers holding one safely in each arm.
A skilled veterinarian checked every dog for serious medical issues before either a volunteer or I secured a numbered collar around their necks. Though we were marking each animal with a number, I knew that before long, they would be adopted to a permanent home where they'd have a name and the individual attention they deserved.
I felt each animal's warm, dirty fur as I slipped the collars on and told them everything was going to be OK. Despite the blur of sweat, buzzing flies, and paperwork, I noticed little things like the unique dapple patterns on a dachshund's ears. I shuddered to see injuries like a dog with an open wound on her leg and a dog with a hole in the middle of his eye.
Sign the pledge to help stop puppy mills
Hope for mom and pups
The stream of photos and records paused as one of the rescuers carried out a large blue bin. I looked inside to see a weary-looking mother dog with eight puppies nursing among a bed of filthy towels. The vet estimated they were only about 16 days old. With so many dogs to identify and photograph at once, someone handed me a pure-white puppy who was barely bigger than my hand. I looked at his stubby legs and round belly while the shutter clicked.
Hours later, after the number of animals climbed past 100 and the house was finally empty, I walked back down the long driveway. It was completely dark and all the animals had been loaded into vehicles and taken to the temporary shelter.
Back at the shelter, where the dogs had clean crates, food, and water, they were already becoming more quiet and calm. Some of the dogs barked, but some were fast asleep.
Better things ahead
I noticed a Chihuahua with such a huge belly that I wondered if she would give birth at any minute. She seemed relieved to have a clean place to rest. When I looked at her and talked to her quietly, she looked back at me and wagged her tail in a circle. I thought about how her puppies would never have to live in the awful conditions their mothers had endured.
Instead they'll grow up as family pets with dog toys, leashes and walks, visits to a veterinarian, and plenty of attention. They won't have any idea what their life would have been like if not for this rescue.
There are so many other dogs in puppy mills who haven't yet been this lucky. Still, these animals' lives changed so much in a single day. I felt lucky too being there to see the dogs beginning to wag their tails and to know that their ordeal was over.
Liz Bergstrom is a public relations specialist with The Humane Society of the United States.
SOURCE: Seeing the Suffering of Puppy Mills Firsthand
After working at The Humane Society of the United States for more than two years, I had seen plenty of videos and photos of the squalid conditions at puppy mills across the country. I had seen images of dogs caked with their own waste, living in cramped conditions, or with rotten teeth and clouded eyes. Still, none of this made it easy to see the consequences of a puppy mill firsthand. Read more about the rescue »
I went along on my first puppy mill rescue in rural Mississippi after HSUS and its Wilde Puppy Mill Task Force were called in to help by local law enforcement. Our convoy of cars and transport vehicles, filled with HSUS staff and volunteers from other animal groups, pulled up to the property one muggy July afternoon.
Once the sheriff's department had served the warrant, spurred by concerns about the conditions of the dogs at the facility, I followed our team down the long, unpaved driveway hemmed in by trees. Though the sun had already started to get lower in the sky, the sweltering, oppressive heat showed no sign of letting up.
A disturbing scene
I saw the house come into view at the end of the driveway. I had just heard other team members describe how dog waste was piled on the floor inside and how the caustic air made their lungs and eyes burn.
Even from outside the house, I could smell overpowering ammonia from accumulated urine and hear the dogs barking and yipping nervously. They had no way of knowing that this would be the last day they would be forced to live in their own excrement, crowded together with other dogs and deprived of the care they needed.
While experienced animal handlers strapped respirators over their faces and went inside, I assisted at a table outside where team members recorded basic information about the animals, took photos, and attached collars for identification. Nearby, a veterinarian and transport vehicles were at the ready.
Breath of fresh air
Soon I saw the first dogs being carried out of the harsh fumes inside the house. They breathed fresh air for the first time in who knows how long. Nearly all the dogs were small breeds, so some of them came out two by two, the rescuers holding one safely in each arm.
A skilled veterinarian checked every dog for serious medical issues before either a volunteer or I secured a numbered collar around their necks. Though we were marking each animal with a number, I knew that before long, they would be adopted to a permanent home where they'd have a name and the individual attention they deserved.
I felt each animal's warm, dirty fur as I slipped the collars on and told them everything was going to be OK. Despite the blur of sweat, buzzing flies, and paperwork, I noticed little things like the unique dapple patterns on a dachshund's ears. I shuddered to see injuries like a dog with an open wound on her leg and a dog with a hole in the middle of his eye.
Sign the pledge to help stop puppy mills
Hope for mom and pups
The stream of photos and records paused as one of the rescuers carried out a large blue bin. I looked inside to see a weary-looking mother dog with eight puppies nursing among a bed of filthy towels. The vet estimated they were only about 16 days old. With so many dogs to identify and photograph at once, someone handed me a pure-white puppy who was barely bigger than my hand. I looked at his stubby legs and round belly while the shutter clicked.
Hours later, after the number of animals climbed past 100 and the house was finally empty, I walked back down the long driveway. It was completely dark and all the animals had been loaded into vehicles and taken to the temporary shelter.
Back at the shelter, where the dogs had clean crates, food, and water, they were already becoming more quiet and calm. Some of the dogs barked, but some were fast asleep.
Better things ahead
I noticed a Chihuahua with such a huge belly that I wondered if she would give birth at any minute. She seemed relieved to have a clean place to rest. When I looked at her and talked to her quietly, she looked back at me and wagged her tail in a circle. I thought about how her puppies would never have to live in the awful conditions their mothers had endured.
Instead they'll grow up as family pets with dog toys, leashes and walks, visits to a veterinarian, and plenty of attention. They won't have any idea what their life would have been like if not for this rescue.
There are so many other dogs in puppy mills who haven't yet been this lucky. Still, these animals' lives changed so much in a single day. I felt lucky too being there to see the dogs beginning to wag their tails and to know that their ordeal was over.
Liz Bergstrom is a public relations specialist with The Humane Society of the United States.
SOURCE: Seeing the Suffering of Puppy Mills Firsthand
Mississippi Pupy Mill Raid by HSUS
Mississippi Puppy Mill Raid
Puppy Mill Raid - Carriere, MS - approximately 50 miles from where I live. The HSUS led a rescue on July 13, 2010, of more than 100 dogs from a puppy mill operation in Carriere, Miss. Local residents had reported concerns about conditions at Sea Breeze Kennels, which had been advertising puppies for sale through classifieds and the Internet.
The first voice you hear is my vet, Dr. Jennifer Hendrick, Live Oak Animal Clinic, Pass Christian, MS. She is also the one showing horrible matted hair on one of the dogs. I'm so proud of her. She has taken care of my Maltese dogs for years and all the ones I have fostered for Northcentral Maltese Rescue.
Puppy Mill Raid - Carriere, MS - approximately 50 miles from where I live. The HSUS led a rescue on July 13, 2010, of more than 100 dogs from a puppy mill operation in Carriere, Miss. Local residents had reported concerns about conditions at Sea Breeze Kennels, which had been advertising puppies for sale through classifieds and the Internet.
The first voice you hear is my vet, Dr. Jennifer Hendrick, Live Oak Animal Clinic, Pass Christian, MS. She is also the one showing horrible matted hair on one of the dogs. I'm so proud of her. She has taken care of my Maltese dogs for years and all the ones I have fostered for Northcentral Maltese Rescue.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Old Man and the Dog
by Catherine Moore
'Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!' My father yelled at me. 'Can't you do anything right?' Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle. 'I saw the car Dad please don't yell at me when I'm driving. 'My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.
What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and h ad reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.
But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, 'I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.' I listened as she read she article describing a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs-all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair.
As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer looked, and then shook his head in puzzlement. 'He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him, that was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow. He gestured helplessly.
I pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer looked, and then shook his head in puzzlement. 'He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him, that was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow. He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. 'You mean you're going to kill him?'
'Ma'am,' he said gently, 'that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog.'
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. 'I'll take him,' I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
'Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!' I said excitedly.
Dad looked, and then wrinkled his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it.' Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
'Ma'am,' he said gently, 'that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog.'
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. 'I'll take him,' I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
'Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!' I said excitedly.
Dad looked, and then wrinkled his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it.' Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.
'You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!' Dad ignored me. 'Did you hear me, Dad?' I screamed those words as Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.
We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently, then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.' 'I've often thanked God for sending that angel,' he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: The sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter, his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father and the proximity of their deaths, and suddenly I understood, I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Muffy and Her Baby, Lucky Apple
This kitten is Lucky Apple. She got her name from a friend, as I saved her in an apple orchard some years ago. Her sister was dead, and Lucky Apple was very cold so she was on her way out also. I think the mother abandoned them, so I put her inside my blouse and took her home. My friend rushed to the vets and bought a tin with kitten milk and a small bottle with a tiny teat. I fed her until she was big enough to drink and eat alone. Muffy thought she was her baby, so would wash her and sleep with her, and no one was allowed near her except us. Lucky Apple is now a big cat and with her adoptive family.
Source: my friend Marie
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Rainbow Bridge
Lucy, July 24, 1994 - May 19, 2010Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
---------------------------
For Lucy, My Granddog, who went to Rainbow Bridge today, surrounded by love and tenderness and resting on my feet. Such a gentle one. It was an honor to care for her during her last months. She lived a long life - full of joy and adventure. She loved having her ears rubbed to the very end. I'm sure she was greeted by her pal Sammy and there has been a great reunion.
Sammy
The Journey
When you bring a pet into your life, you begin a journey. A journey that will bring you more love and devotion than you have ever known, yet will also test your strength and courage. If you allow, the journey will teach you many things, about life, about yourself, and most of all, about love. You will come away changed forever, for one soul cannot touch another without leaving its mark.
Along the way, you will learn much about savoring life's simple pleasures -- jumping in leaves, snoozing in the sun, the joys of puddles, and even the satisfaction of a good scratch behind the ears. If you spend much time outside, you will be taught how to truly experience every element, for no rock, leaf, or log will go unexamined, no rustling bush will be overlooked, and even the very air will be inhaled, pondered, and noted as being full of valuable information.
Your pace may be slower, except when heading home to the food dish, but you will become a better naturalist, having been taught by an expert in the field. Too many times we hike on automatic pilot, our goal being to complete the trail rather than enjoy the journey. We miss the details: the colorful mushrooms on the rotting log, the honeycomb in the old maple snag, the hawk feather caught on a twig.
Once we walk as a dog does, we discover a whole new world. We stop; we browse the landscape, we kick over leaves, peek in tree holes, look up, down, all around. And we learn what any dog knows that nature has created a marvelously complex world that is full of surprises, that each cycle of the seasons bring ever changing wonders, each day an essence all its own, each day a gift from God.
Even from indoors you will find yourself more attuned to the world around you. You will find yourself watching: summer insects collecting on a screen; how bizarre they are; how many kinds there are or noting the flick and flash of fireflies through the dark. You will stop to observe the swirling dance of windblown leaves, or sniff the air after a rain. It does not matter that there is no objective in this; the point is in the doing, in not letting life's most important details slip by.
You will find yourself doing silly things that your pet-less friends might not understand: spending thirty minutes in the grocery aisle looking for the cat food brand your feline must have, buying dog birthday treats, or driving around the block an extra time because your pet enjoys the ride. You will roll in the snow, wrestle with chewier toys, bounce little rubber balls till your eyes cross, and even run around the house trailing your bathrobe tie with a cat in hot pursuit, all in the name of love.
Your house will become muddier and hairier. You will wear less dark clothing and buy more lint rollers. You may find dog biscuits in your pocket or purse, and feel the need to explain that an old plastic shopping bag adorns your living room rug because your cat loves the crinkly sound. You will learn the true measure of love. The steadfast, undying kind that says, "It doesn't matter where we are or what we do, or how life treats us as long as we are together."
Respect this always. It is the most precious gift any living soul can give another. You will not find it often among the human race. And you will learn humility. The look in my dog's eyes often made me feel ashamed. Such joy and love at my presence. She saw not some flawed human who could be cross and stubborn, moody or rude, but only her wonderful companion. Or maybe she saw those things and dismissed them as mere human foibles, not worth considering, and so chose to love me anyway.
If you pay attention and learn well, when the journey is done, you will be not just a better person, but the person your pet always knew you to be. The one they were proud to call beloved friend.
I must caution you that this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of true love, the pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one day your dear animal companion will follow a trail you cannot yet go down. And you will have to find the strength and love to let them go.
A pet's time on earth is far too short, especially for those that love them. We borrow them, really, just for a while, and during these brief years they are generous enough to give us all their love, every inch of their spirit and heart, until one day there is nothing left. The cat that only yesterday was a kitten is all too soon old and frail and sleeping in the sun. The young pup of boundless energy now wakes up stiff and lame, the muzzle gone to gray.
Deep down we somehow always knew that this journey would end. We knew that if we gave our hearts they would be broken. But give them we must for it is all they ask in return. When the time comes, and the road curves ahead to a place we cannot see, we give one final gift and let them run on ahead, young and whole once more. "God speed, good friend," we say, until our journey comes full circle and our paths cross again.
And bless their souls for sharing their lives with us... and adding so much to our very existence.
(Posted this day in memory of Lucy)
Along the way, you will learn much about savoring life's simple pleasures -- jumping in leaves, snoozing in the sun, the joys of puddles, and even the satisfaction of a good scratch behind the ears. If you spend much time outside, you will be taught how to truly experience every element, for no rock, leaf, or log will go unexamined, no rustling bush will be overlooked, and even the very air will be inhaled, pondered, and noted as being full of valuable information.
Your pace may be slower, except when heading home to the food dish, but you will become a better naturalist, having been taught by an expert in the field. Too many times we hike on automatic pilot, our goal being to complete the trail rather than enjoy the journey. We miss the details: the colorful mushrooms on the rotting log, the honeycomb in the old maple snag, the hawk feather caught on a twig.
Once we walk as a dog does, we discover a whole new world. We stop; we browse the landscape, we kick over leaves, peek in tree holes, look up, down, all around. And we learn what any dog knows that nature has created a marvelously complex world that is full of surprises, that each cycle of the seasons bring ever changing wonders, each day an essence all its own, each day a gift from God.
Even from indoors you will find yourself more attuned to the world around you. You will find yourself watching: summer insects collecting on a screen; how bizarre they are; how many kinds there are or noting the flick and flash of fireflies through the dark. You will stop to observe the swirling dance of windblown leaves, or sniff the air after a rain. It does not matter that there is no objective in this; the point is in the doing, in not letting life's most important details slip by.
You will find yourself doing silly things that your pet-less friends might not understand: spending thirty minutes in the grocery aisle looking for the cat food brand your feline must have, buying dog birthday treats, or driving around the block an extra time because your pet enjoys the ride. You will roll in the snow, wrestle with chewier toys, bounce little rubber balls till your eyes cross, and even run around the house trailing your bathrobe tie with a cat in hot pursuit, all in the name of love.
Your house will become muddier and hairier. You will wear less dark clothing and buy more lint rollers. You may find dog biscuits in your pocket or purse, and feel the need to explain that an old plastic shopping bag adorns your living room rug because your cat loves the crinkly sound. You will learn the true measure of love. The steadfast, undying kind that says, "It doesn't matter where we are or what we do, or how life treats us as long as we are together."
Respect this always. It is the most precious gift any living soul can give another. You will not find it often among the human race. And you will learn humility. The look in my dog's eyes often made me feel ashamed. Such joy and love at my presence. She saw not some flawed human who could be cross and stubborn, moody or rude, but only her wonderful companion. Or maybe she saw those things and dismissed them as mere human foibles, not worth considering, and so chose to love me anyway.
If you pay attention and learn well, when the journey is done, you will be not just a better person, but the person your pet always knew you to be. The one they were proud to call beloved friend.
I must caution you that this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of true love, the pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one day your dear animal companion will follow a trail you cannot yet go down. And you will have to find the strength and love to let them go.
A pet's time on earth is far too short, especially for those that love them. We borrow them, really, just for a while, and during these brief years they are generous enough to give us all their love, every inch of their spirit and heart, until one day there is nothing left. The cat that only yesterday was a kitten is all too soon old and frail and sleeping in the sun. The young pup of boundless energy now wakes up stiff and lame, the muzzle gone to gray.
Deep down we somehow always knew that this journey would end. We knew that if we gave our hearts they would be broken. But give them we must for it is all they ask in return. When the time comes, and the road curves ahead to a place we cannot see, we give one final gift and let them run on ahead, young and whole once more. "God speed, good friend," we say, until our journey comes full circle and our paths cross again.
And bless their souls for sharing their lives with us... and adding so much to our very existence.
(Posted this day in memory of Lucy)
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Greenville Euthanize List - Greenville, S.C.
Look at these sad little ones - scheduled to be put to sleep unless someone helps them. Website: http://www.noahs-arks.net/RESCUE/Greenville.html
Most young and heathy. As of this post date, there is one-year old Chloe and her 9 puppies, surrendered by owner and were scheduled to be put to sleep on 3/26. There is no update on their status.
"Greenville County Animal Care Services in an open admission shelter, which means that it accepts animals regardless of their adoptability. An average of 1,500 stray and unwanted pets is turned into their facility each month. Approximately 55% of the animals entering our facility are found homes through adoption and animal rescue services. Unfortunately, as long as there are more dogs and cats than responsible pet owners, the animal shelter will need to euthanize animals." http://www.greenvillecounty.org/acs/
Most young and heathy. As of this post date, there is one-year old Chloe and her 9 puppies, surrendered by owner and were scheduled to be put to sleep on 3/26. There is no update on their status.
"Greenville County Animal Care Services in an open admission shelter, which means that it accepts animals regardless of their adoptability. An average of 1,500 stray and unwanted pets is turned into their facility each month. Approximately 55% of the animals entering our facility are found homes through adoption and animal rescue services. Unfortunately, as long as there are more dogs and cats than responsible pet owners, the animal shelter will need to euthanize animals." http://www.greenvillecounty.org/acs/
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Backaches, Heartbreak and Hope in Mississippi
Backaches, Heartbreak, and Hope in Mississippi : The Humane Society of the United States
PRESTON, Miss. — The Humane Society of the United States and the Mississippi Animal Rescue League assisted the Kemper County Sheriff's Department in the seizure of 165 dogs and cats who were found living in deplorable conditions in Preston, Miss. The animals were removed from Raven's Hope, a non-profit organization that claims to offer animals for adoption. The seizure is the largest known animal rescue in Kemper County. . . .
MERIDIAN — Raven's Hope Animal Sanctuary in Kemper County garnered statewide attention early last week as more than 150 dogs were taken from a labyrinth of outdoor cages surrounding an otherwise unassuming house. . . . "We found seven dogs deceased already when we arrived," said Jordan Crump, a spokesperson for the Humane Society of the United States. "There were an untold amount of skeletal remains all over the property." The remains were presumably of dogs, she said. "I've been on about 30 rescue missions," Crump said. "This is probably the worst I've seen. . . . (Read more here.)
PRESTON, Miss. — The Humane Society of the United States and the Mississippi Animal Rescue League assisted the Kemper County Sheriff's Department in the seizure of 165 dogs and cats who were found living in deplorable conditions in Preston, Miss. The animals were removed from Raven's Hope, a non-profit organization that claims to offer animals for adoption. The seizure is the largest known animal rescue in Kemper County. . . .
MERIDIAN — Raven's Hope Animal Sanctuary in Kemper County garnered statewide attention early last week as more than 150 dogs were taken from a labyrinth of outdoor cages surrounding an otherwise unassuming house. . . . "We found seven dogs deceased already when we arrived," said Jordan Crump, a spokesperson for the Humane Society of the United States. "There were an untold amount of skeletal remains all over the property." The remains were presumably of dogs, she said. "I've been on about 30 rescue missions," Crump said. "This is probably the worst I've seen. . . . (Read more here.)
Friday, February 19, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
A Great Valentine's Day for Murphy
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