are the new puppies' names (courtesy of a friend and loyal reader). his for sir walter, the adventurer and hers for the way she stays burrowed into the warmth of the bed. cora lets me pick them up now and she lets me know when it's time to put them down. she really is a good mom.
i've never had the chance to observe newborn pups, till now. Maggie's were fat little doggies when i brought them home...swirling around my feet and biting my shoes as i tried to move, so i have to confess, i was expecting something different. i guess i thought like, ok, 2-3 days and they'd be running around. but they're 12 days old and this evening i saw raleigh learning to stand, in that wobbly way that babies do. taking a single step and flopping onto his belly. long periods of rest between one attempt and the next. ember, meanwhile, was on her back in the bed. when i disturbed her, she opened her eyes, closed them and started to squirm, putting her paws up to her mouth. watching them, ember content to be a baby and her brother, wanting to grow up and get going right this red hot minute, i'm flooded with memories of the infants i've been blessed to know and how they've been distinguished and individual, from their earliest moments. it's enchanting to see the way each new life arrives on earth as a particular spirit, with its own particular way of being. i'm reminded, again, how various we are. how wonderous in our variety.
**********
in other news, i went back to the shelter today, determined to walk dogs and keep my head down. but of course, because i was determined, it didn't happen that way. i wound up working with potential adopters. showing dogs as much as walking them.
Mr Banks got adopted by one of the volunteers (yay!!)and one of the puppies by the folks i'd been helping. i'm in love with a new dog named Yogi. He looks like a little 10 lb german shepherd and he is desperately good. i hope someone wonderful chooses him before i have to take him home.
love stories, success stories, happy dogs...it was a satisfying day. it felt good to be back.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
the white hot burning question
of whether or not i can continue with my work at the shelter has sort of answered itself.
i haven't been able to go in, the past few days and won't be able to for several more, for personal reasons, and i think that's just as well. it had been a tough week and i was worn out. being away gives me the opportunity to miss it. to feel the space its absence leaves in my life. to think about what i've been doing the past few months.
from my first day there, i just rolled up my proverbial sleeves and got to work. i didn't make a plan to go back each day. i just went. i think that's how i know it's right for me. there was no deciding. i don't keep track of my hours and i'm only capable of simple math but i know that it's been a big commitment. i've given it a significant chunk of my time. i refer to it as "going to work" because it's more than a diversion. it's a reason for getting out of bed and a chance to feel good about doing so.
i hope some things change at the shelter...but i'll be going back, even if they don't. once again i'm aware that i'm helping animals in need and that one of them is me.
i haven't been able to go in, the past few days and won't be able to for several more, for personal reasons, and i think that's just as well. it had been a tough week and i was worn out. being away gives me the opportunity to miss it. to feel the space its absence leaves in my life. to think about what i've been doing the past few months.
from my first day there, i just rolled up my proverbial sleeves and got to work. i didn't make a plan to go back each day. i just went. i think that's how i know it's right for me. there was no deciding. i don't keep track of my hours and i'm only capable of simple math but i know that it's been a big commitment. i've given it a significant chunk of my time. i refer to it as "going to work" because it's more than a diversion. it's a reason for getting out of bed and a chance to feel good about doing so.
i hope some things change at the shelter...but i'll be going back, even if they don't. once again i'm aware that i'm helping animals in need and that one of them is me.
Friday, July 27, 2012
i'm considering
and i'm deciding if i can continue my work at the shelter.
as the pace has picked up with more lookers, more adoptions, the system is faltering even as the volunteer numbers are slowly increasing and life for the dogs, in particular, is getting better. i've been helping out, when things are really busy, showing animals, talking about their particular quirks and graces, taking them outside to spend time with prospective adoptors. i'm not a particularly appealing hostess. i'm usually dripping sweat and i always smell like some combination of wet dog and the stuff i shovel between walks. but i know most of the dogs pretty well and i'm not shy about telling folks what they're getting into in terms of the adjustments and commitments they'll face. i'll speak up if i don't think they're making a good choice for their particular circumstance.
a month ago, a woman came in to choose a dog. she fell in love with a big, beautiful, energetic white hound. she said she would be responsible for its care but that it would live with her elderly mother, as her companion. you see the problem. i was emphatically unsupportive and tried to steer her toward smaller, older, quieter choices but she would not be dissuaded. yesterday the dog was rudely and unceremoniously returned...like it was her fault that she was too big, needed too much attention.
disturbing as that is, it's not the issue at hand. i was just telling you about it to demonstrate what a hard-a i can be. how incredibly effective.
what may drive me away is that i can't trust the system. when i show animals i'm answering adoption questions and i'm repeating to folks what i've been told about how it works. except recently it hasn't been working. filling out an application on an animal is supposed to give you 48 hours to decide. if you haven't paid the adoption fee or signed the contract within that time, you lose your place in line and if there's a second application, that one has 48 hours, and so on. if it's a particularly appealing animal, there can be multiple apps in the back-up position.
so what's happening is that i'm showing animals and spending time with people and answering those questions and encouraging them, if they're serious but need to bring back a child or spouse or their household pet for approval, to go ahead and apply and take advantage of that 48 hour grace period. and several times in the last couple weeks, those folks have returned to find that somebody's jumped the line and taken home the animal they'd expected was theirs. there have been some grievously disappointed families...folks who returned within hours to cement their adoption or worse yet, went home and read about the adoption on line.
in each case, the explanation i was given couldn't hold water. either some folks were being given priority or there's a sink hole in the process. mistakes happen. i'm not one to expect perfection. what's totally unacceptable is that when there was an opportunity to correct one of these errors, the decision was made to do nothing. not even a delay, to assess the circumstances.
a friend of mine came in to see a particular kitten she'd looked at online and i happened to be there at the time so i got to introduce them. it was love. this particular little kitten was like an answered prayer for her. she had no doubts about it but simply wanted to give her husband the courtesy of a phone call before she brought it home and he was mid-flight, somewhere over the atlantic. hers was the first application. sad story short, as she was making the call and shopping for cat beds, someone else adopted the cat. now here's the part that makes me angry. the folks in charge knew what had happened before closing that evening and chose to do nothing about it. they sent the cat, the next morning, to be spayed and declawed as per the agreement with the usurping owner. good God.
my friend and i each made a separate appeal the next morning, for them to intervene before it was too late. we were each denied with the boiler-plate line that there's nothing we can do because the other person had a signed contract. the most they did was to call and ask if that happy shopper would give up her claim and nope. she wouldn't.
i feel personally betrayed. i feel personally responsible because i've unwittingly but repeatedly misrepresented the truth to people and caused them heartache and all i'm getting from the folks in charge is a shrugging apology. oh, well. so sorry but rules is rules. except when they're not.
i don't know what to do.
as the pace has picked up with more lookers, more adoptions, the system is faltering even as the volunteer numbers are slowly increasing and life for the dogs, in particular, is getting better. i've been helping out, when things are really busy, showing animals, talking about their particular quirks and graces, taking them outside to spend time with prospective adoptors. i'm not a particularly appealing hostess. i'm usually dripping sweat and i always smell like some combination of wet dog and the stuff i shovel between walks. but i know most of the dogs pretty well and i'm not shy about telling folks what they're getting into in terms of the adjustments and commitments they'll face. i'll speak up if i don't think they're making a good choice for their particular circumstance.
a month ago, a woman came in to choose a dog. she fell in love with a big, beautiful, energetic white hound. she said she would be responsible for its care but that it would live with her elderly mother, as her companion. you see the problem. i was emphatically unsupportive and tried to steer her toward smaller, older, quieter choices but she would not be dissuaded. yesterday the dog was rudely and unceremoniously returned...like it was her fault that she was too big, needed too much attention.
disturbing as that is, it's not the issue at hand. i was just telling you about it to demonstrate what a hard-a i can be. how incredibly effective.
what may drive me away is that i can't trust the system. when i show animals i'm answering adoption questions and i'm repeating to folks what i've been told about how it works. except recently it hasn't been working. filling out an application on an animal is supposed to give you 48 hours to decide. if you haven't paid the adoption fee or signed the contract within that time, you lose your place in line and if there's a second application, that one has 48 hours, and so on. if it's a particularly appealing animal, there can be multiple apps in the back-up position.
so what's happening is that i'm showing animals and spending time with people and answering those questions and encouraging them, if they're serious but need to bring back a child or spouse or their household pet for approval, to go ahead and apply and take advantage of that 48 hour grace period. and several times in the last couple weeks, those folks have returned to find that somebody's jumped the line and taken home the animal they'd expected was theirs. there have been some grievously disappointed families...folks who returned within hours to cement their adoption or worse yet, went home and read about the adoption on line.
in each case, the explanation i was given couldn't hold water. either some folks were being given priority or there's a sink hole in the process. mistakes happen. i'm not one to expect perfection. what's totally unacceptable is that when there was an opportunity to correct one of these errors, the decision was made to do nothing. not even a delay, to assess the circumstances.
a friend of mine came in to see a particular kitten she'd looked at online and i happened to be there at the time so i got to introduce them. it was love. this particular little kitten was like an answered prayer for her. she had no doubts about it but simply wanted to give her husband the courtesy of a phone call before she brought it home and he was mid-flight, somewhere over the atlantic. hers was the first application. sad story short, as she was making the call and shopping for cat beds, someone else adopted the cat. now here's the part that makes me angry. the folks in charge knew what had happened before closing that evening and chose to do nothing about it. they sent the cat, the next morning, to be spayed and declawed as per the agreement with the usurping owner. good God.
my friend and i each made a separate appeal the next morning, for them to intervene before it was too late. we were each denied with the boiler-plate line that there's nothing we can do because the other person had a signed contract. the most they did was to call and ask if that happy shopper would give up her claim and nope. she wouldn't.
i feel personally betrayed. i feel personally responsible because i've unwittingly but repeatedly misrepresented the truth to people and caused them heartache and all i'm getting from the folks in charge is a shrugging apology. oh, well. so sorry but rules is rules. except when they're not.
i don't know what to do.
Monday, July 23, 2012
it struck me
last night that i've been working at the shelter since the beginning of May. Not quite 3 months. Not quite three months! Good Lord.
This isn't the same life, since i've been going there. I've changed my thinking about so many things...become aware of so much. It's a genuine experience of helplessness...fighting a tide of tragedy. but it's also a learning experience and one of increasingly frequent joy. the little core of dedicated volunteers is growing. more dogs are getting out for walks more frequently. we're able to focus extra attention on the most needy. adoptions are at an all time high because of increasing awareness in the community.
i've been careful not to identify myself or the shelter or even the state where all this has happened. it's a universal issue. i want it to feel like it's your back yard, cause, trust me, it is. but i want to tell you about a program here that's making a difference. maybe you'll want to try something like it.
two concerned women formed a non-profit whose work it is to change the way that shelter animals are perceived. they take "glamor shots" of the animals as they come up for adoption. bathed and brushed and wearing bow ties or pearl necklaces, seated on wicker chairs or outside on the lawn, they're photographed by professionals who donate their time and efforts for the cause. there's a facebook page where the animals are featured and it's updated with the good news as adoptions occur. and of course the exposure increases exponentially as viewers "like" the site or share the photos on their own pages. the shelter uses the same photos on their website, so instead of the usual cowering-in-the-corner black and white pictures you're used to seeing, there are these charming, tongue-lolling, sweet looking critters that are easy to imagine curled up on your couch or playing with your kids.
maybe it sounds like a small thing, but like i said, adoptions are at an all time high. it takes dedication and effort. it takes volunteer support. and it works.
if you'd like more information, contact me by using the "comment" button below.
i'll be happy to tell you more.
This isn't the same life, since i've been going there. I've changed my thinking about so many things...become aware of so much. It's a genuine experience of helplessness...fighting a tide of tragedy. but it's also a learning experience and one of increasingly frequent joy. the little core of dedicated volunteers is growing. more dogs are getting out for walks more frequently. we're able to focus extra attention on the most needy. adoptions are at an all time high because of increasing awareness in the community.
i've been careful not to identify myself or the shelter or even the state where all this has happened. it's a universal issue. i want it to feel like it's your back yard, cause, trust me, it is. but i want to tell you about a program here that's making a difference. maybe you'll want to try something like it.
two concerned women formed a non-profit whose work it is to change the way that shelter animals are perceived. they take "glamor shots" of the animals as they come up for adoption. bathed and brushed and wearing bow ties or pearl necklaces, seated on wicker chairs or outside on the lawn, they're photographed by professionals who donate their time and efforts for the cause. there's a facebook page where the animals are featured and it's updated with the good news as adoptions occur. and of course the exposure increases exponentially as viewers "like" the site or share the photos on their own pages. the shelter uses the same photos on their website, so instead of the usual cowering-in-the-corner black and white pictures you're used to seeing, there are these charming, tongue-lolling, sweet looking critters that are easy to imagine curled up on your couch or playing with your kids.
maybe it sounds like a small thing, but like i said, adoptions are at an all time high. it takes dedication and effort. it takes volunteer support. and it works.
if you'd like more information, contact me by using the "comment" button below.
i'll be happy to tell you more.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
a little info
about this blog...
first of all, i really, really want you to come back and read it again. and i'd love for you to tell your friends about it, if you think they'd be interested. it keeps me going, to know that there's interest in what i'm blithering.
if you chose to subscribe, it will not tell me who you are. i apologize and i hope your feelings won't be hurt, but you'll just be a statistic. what it will do is send you an email alert when i publish something new and soul stirring.
you can comment. down at the bottom of each post, click on "comments" and it will open a window for you to respond, if you're so moved. that would be awesome for me to have feedback.
if i've ever hurt your feelings, i apologize. (just throwing that in cause sometimes i'm a clod but i mean no harm.)
first of all, i really, really want you to come back and read it again. and i'd love for you to tell your friends about it, if you think they'd be interested. it keeps me going, to know that there's interest in what i'm blithering.
if you chose to subscribe, it will not tell me who you are. i apologize and i hope your feelings won't be hurt, but you'll just be a statistic. what it will do is send you an email alert when i publish something new and soul stirring.
you can comment. down at the bottom of each post, click on "comments" and it will open a window for you to respond, if you're so moved. that would be awesome for me to have feedback.
if i've ever hurt your feelings, i apologize. (just throwing that in cause sometimes i'm a clod but i mean no harm.)
peeking under
a heavy chair in my bedroom, i spotted an errant sock. what i retrieved was, instead, a sock sized dust bunny. so much for dignity.
one of the things about growing old is that priorities change. you realize that you've got maybe another 10 years before your opportunities for expansion will begin to disappear behind some physical limitation, whether it's a broken part or just an empty tank. the significance of sock bunnies is diminished. do i care that my private space is less than tidy? not that much.
i remember shopping in a big, fancy store in new york a couple decades ago. i found this incredibly delicious pair of italian boots on clearance. if i'd dreamed a perfect pair of boots, these were them. they looked and smelled like burnt sugar, with brushed brass buttons that laced up the front. they were a little bit sexy and a little bit prim. i'd hungered for them my whole life, it seemed, so i grabbed like i was saving a life...i grabbed like a desperate fool. the universe smiled its buddha smile. they were just my size. but they were narrow. nothing about me is narrow. well, i'm sorry, but, seriously...in the face of such perfection, who cares if they pinch! they were beautiful and affordable, so i crammed my shoebox shaped feet down inside them and handed over my plastic money. wow, they hurt. like cripplingly hurt. they eventually looked great in my closet, gathering dust.
today, i could buy my shoes blindfolded and be perfectly happy if they looked like groundhogs on my feet. all i care about is comfort. my new style is most charitably called "broken in". i barely bother to sort the darks from lights cause everything is faded to some shade of grey, anyhow. if my hair starts to feel too hairy, i cut it off. i've made friends with my old face and take it out in public, bare naked. my priorities have changed.
i am humbled by my own imperfection. my path is littered with regrets that have, at times, walled me off from joy. but things have changed. finally, i tire of endlessly consuming myself. finally i say, this body, this consciousness is only important as a vehicle by which i am able to experience the beauty of the world...define beauty how you will.
today when i went out to cora's shed, the sky was absolutely rockin' beautiful. the early sun fell through the window onto the little blind pups in a golden slant of light...in a way that seemed too perfect to be true. i remained still until that light faded and another filled my heart. it felt a holy moment, meant for me to see and then to share with you.
i remember shopping in a big, fancy store in new york a couple decades ago. i found this incredibly delicious pair of italian boots on clearance. if i'd dreamed a perfect pair of boots, these were them. they looked and smelled like burnt sugar, with brushed brass buttons that laced up the front. they were a little bit sexy and a little bit prim. i'd hungered for them my whole life, it seemed, so i grabbed like i was saving a life...i grabbed like a desperate fool. the universe smiled its buddha smile. they were just my size. but they were narrow. nothing about me is narrow. well, i'm sorry, but, seriously...in the face of such perfection, who cares if they pinch! they were beautiful and affordable, so i crammed my shoebox shaped feet down inside them and handed over my plastic money. wow, they hurt. like cripplingly hurt. they eventually looked great in my closet, gathering dust.
today, i could buy my shoes blindfolded and be perfectly happy if they looked like groundhogs on my feet. all i care about is comfort. my new style is most charitably called "broken in". i barely bother to sort the darks from lights cause everything is faded to some shade of grey, anyhow. if my hair starts to feel too hairy, i cut it off. i've made friends with my old face and take it out in public, bare naked. my priorities have changed.
i am humbled by my own imperfection. my path is littered with regrets that have, at times, walled me off from joy. but things have changed. finally, i tire of endlessly consuming myself. finally i say, this body, this consciousness is only important as a vehicle by which i am able to experience the beauty of the world...define beauty how you will.
today when i went out to cora's shed, the sky was absolutely rockin' beautiful. the early sun fell through the window onto the little blind pups in a golden slant of light...in a way that seemed too perfect to be true. i remained still until that light faded and another filled my heart. it felt a holy moment, meant for me to see and then to share with you.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
corabelle
wants in the house. now that we're compatibly walking off-leash with the pack on a regular basis, she heads off toward the back door, asap. she's even used the doggie door and come into the garage. things like that make you wonder what her life was like, before the shelter.
if you're wondering why i won't bring her inside, there are several reasons. she has a comfortable shed with cross ventilation and a ceiling fan. there's doggie door access to a covered, fenced, yard that will be safe even for the pups when they're old enough to do more than scoot out blindly onto the linoleum. i could never re-create that for her, in the house. also, she's extremely defensive whenever one of my dogs comes near the boundary of her little sanctuary. it could get ugly, in a heartbeat, if that happened inside. and finally, there's been so much upheaval for my dogs since i began taking in fosters that i'm reluctant to even suggest that there's anything permanent in this situation. i'm hoping that corabelle and her babies will move on, without drama, to permanent homes after a while. i don't want to mislead her heart or mine.
oh. and if you're interested in helping me name them, there's one boy pup - who looks like a very mini rottweiler - and one girl, with little white feet and a white blaze on her chest. they're barely as big as my hand and they haven't opened their eyes yet, but its the boy pup who keep scooting out of the crate onto the floor. already an adventurer!
on another front, the little stray that i coaxed into the shelter is up for adoption. they've named him Jefferson. big name for a wee fellow. he's a delightful little man. snuggly and quiet with people but playful with any other dog he meets. i do love, love him.
and Mr. Banks is still waiting for a home. he's less grumbly when i take him outside now. i won't say take him for walks cause he will only walk as far as the first shady spot before he stretches out, frog-like on the grass, head up, eyes closed, facing into the breeze. he growled just once, today and it seemed like a mere formality...as opposed to some genuine dissatisfaction. i'm planning on taking him to my vet monday, to have him checked over. he just doesn't seem to feel very good and i want to make sure he's getting what he needs to flourish. and i'm praying he gets enough time for that to happen.
if you're wondering why i won't bring her inside, there are several reasons. she has a comfortable shed with cross ventilation and a ceiling fan. there's doggie door access to a covered, fenced, yard that will be safe even for the pups when they're old enough to do more than scoot out blindly onto the linoleum. i could never re-create that for her, in the house. also, she's extremely defensive whenever one of my dogs comes near the boundary of her little sanctuary. it could get ugly, in a heartbeat, if that happened inside. and finally, there's been so much upheaval for my dogs since i began taking in fosters that i'm reluctant to even suggest that there's anything permanent in this situation. i'm hoping that corabelle and her babies will move on, without drama, to permanent homes after a while. i don't want to mislead her heart or mine.
oh. and if you're interested in helping me name them, there's one boy pup - who looks like a very mini rottweiler - and one girl, with little white feet and a white blaze on her chest. they're barely as big as my hand and they haven't opened their eyes yet, but its the boy pup who keep scooting out of the crate onto the floor. already an adventurer!
on another front, the little stray that i coaxed into the shelter is up for adoption. they've named him Jefferson. big name for a wee fellow. he's a delightful little man. snuggly and quiet with people but playful with any other dog he meets. i do love, love him.
and Mr. Banks is still waiting for a home. he's less grumbly when i take him outside now. i won't say take him for walks cause he will only walk as far as the first shady spot before he stretches out, frog-like on the grass, head up, eyes closed, facing into the breeze. he growled just once, today and it seemed like a mere formality...as opposed to some genuine dissatisfaction. i'm planning on taking him to my vet monday, to have him checked over. he just doesn't seem to feel very good and i want to make sure he's getting what he needs to flourish. and i'm praying he gets enough time for that to happen.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
the first walk
with the mom dog and maggie and the rottencockers went better than expected. they had been shouting at each other through the kennel fence for two days, so i was prepared for some misbehavin' and of course max, the supreme master of rotten, rushed right up to set the record straight about who was in charge. instead of cowering, mom dog snapped once and he adjusted his thinking.
after that, we cruised the path with speed and intention. mom dog, now Corabelle, for maiden heart, took off like she was headin' for the barn, shifting my focus from what the other dogs were doing to whether or not i was going to remain upright as she dragged me, skidding, along the wet hillside. i was tempted to let her off the leash, but some sensible adult part of me spoke up wondering how i'd feel about chasing her around the field for the unforseen future so i bent my knees and leaned against the drag. i'm pretty proud that i listened and we all returned safely cause it was clear, after a bit, that Cora would have been quite happy to keep going indefinitely.
she was friendly enough when we got back to her shed, but as soon as i looked at the pups, she put herself between us...so i'm not pushing her, just yet, to let me closer. but i do respect her technique - not threatening but not taking any chances, either.
i can't help comparing Corabelle and Maggie as mom dogs and i know that's unfair for a couple of reasons. first of all, Maggie's perfect. she just is. also, i had a trusting relationship with her before we ever left the shelter. she was still a stray when she gave birth so didn't have Cora's compounded trauma of being captured, then locked up in the chaos of an institutional animal shelter for days before giving birth and losing babies in the loneliness of night. and Maggie's young. Cora's old enough to be retired from the birthin', nursin' process. that said, as i compare, at the same time, i resist judgment. it's a wait and see kind of moment.
wanna help me name the pups? i'd love that. i'll post some photos soon to inspire you. as soon as Cora let's me close.
after that, we cruised the path with speed and intention. mom dog, now Corabelle, for maiden heart, took off like she was headin' for the barn, shifting my focus from what the other dogs were doing to whether or not i was going to remain upright as she dragged me, skidding, along the wet hillside. i was tempted to let her off the leash, but some sensible adult part of me spoke up wondering how i'd feel about chasing her around the field for the unforseen future so i bent my knees and leaned against the drag. i'm pretty proud that i listened and we all returned safely cause it was clear, after a bit, that Cora would have been quite happy to keep going indefinitely.
she was friendly enough when we got back to her shed, but as soon as i looked at the pups, she put herself between us...so i'm not pushing her, just yet, to let me closer. but i do respect her technique - not threatening but not taking any chances, either.
i can't help comparing Corabelle and Maggie as mom dogs and i know that's unfair for a couple of reasons. first of all, Maggie's perfect. she just is. also, i had a trusting relationship with her before we ever left the shelter. she was still a stray when she gave birth so didn't have Cora's compounded trauma of being captured, then locked up in the chaos of an institutional animal shelter for days before giving birth and losing babies in the loneliness of night. and Maggie's young. Cora's old enough to be retired from the birthin', nursin' process. that said, as i compare, at the same time, i resist judgment. it's a wait and see kind of moment.
wanna help me name the pups? i'd love that. i'll post some photos soon to inspire you. as soon as Cora let's me close.
so the new mom-dog
and her two little sausage pups that i brought home yesterday are settled in and once again i've demonstrated that it's pointless for me to have a plan. i wasn't going to take another foster for a while. i did and do need to focus some attention on my own crazy pack. but she's a nameless, elderly-seeming stray who startled the shelter staff by giving birth in her kennel stall two nights ago. not all of her babies survived and truth is, she and the other two weren't going to make it, either. for practical reasons, they'd already been short-listed when i got to work that day.
i don't know this dog. we have no established relationship cause she never made it to adoptions and volunteers are not allowed to mess with them till they've made that cut. the most we can do is slide a treat under the gate as we pass and she was one who never looked up from her corner...never ate a treat or even noticed one. bringing her here, with her accumulated trauma, was stressful for both of us. she was frightened, restless and kept stepping on the wee babies in the crate, making them squeal pitifully. i wanted to remove the pups to safety but i wasn't about to reach in there with the agitated mom, to get them. i just had to trust they'd be ok which, apparently, they are.
the bad news is that the pups look nothing like their mom. she's vaguely collie-like...brownish and fluffy. she appears touchingly vulnerable with her aged, white face. the young ones are black dogs. two sleek, shiney, whimpering little black dogs. Godhelpthem.
i guess i'll keep you updated, as she settles in. Meantime, i'm seriously questioning my own sanity. where will this all end? there has to be a limit and right now, this morning, i'm pretty sure i'm closing in on it.
i don't know this dog. we have no established relationship cause she never made it to adoptions and volunteers are not allowed to mess with them till they've made that cut. the most we can do is slide a treat under the gate as we pass and she was one who never looked up from her corner...never ate a treat or even noticed one. bringing her here, with her accumulated trauma, was stressful for both of us. she was frightened, restless and kept stepping on the wee babies in the crate, making them squeal pitifully. i wanted to remove the pups to safety but i wasn't about to reach in there with the agitated mom, to get them. i just had to trust they'd be ok which, apparently, they are.
the bad news is that the pups look nothing like their mom. she's vaguely collie-like...brownish and fluffy. she appears touchingly vulnerable with her aged, white face. the young ones are black dogs. two sleek, shiney, whimpering little black dogs. Godhelpthem.
i guess i'll keep you updated, as she settles in. Meantime, i'm seriously questioning my own sanity. where will this all end? there has to be a limit and right now, this morning, i'm pretty sure i'm closing in on it.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
did i mention
than Baby Girl got adopted? after months of invisibility, all of a sudden last week there was a flurry of interest...folks responding to her photo online and asking to meet her. she had two interviews in 12 hours and could have had a third, but the second couple recognized her as extraordinary and knew she would fit perfectly into their lives and they took her home.
the biggest challenge about fostering dogs is that you get attached. it made me deeply sad when each of the little puppies left...i wasn't prepared for how hard it was, saying goodbye. and of course, i couldn't say goodbye at all to Maggie, the mom-dog. She's family, now.
with Felicia, i'd known from the start that she would do best living in a cat-free zone, so i had resisted thinking of her as mine. at the same time i accepted that hers was a limited demographic appeal and that if she never found that "click", she'd be staying with me...so while i appreciated and loved her, while i wept when she left and while i still miss her sweet, powerful energy, her leaving felt ordained...that things were as they should be.
baby girl was different. maybe cause i'd watched her, in the shelter and here at home, grow from a big, goofy pup into a young, peaceful, playful dog who was gradually revealing a beautiful old soul. she just seemed to grow more wonderful, by the day. so much time had passed that i was beginning to imagine her a permanent part of my life. the sudden prospect of letting her go was shocking and i'll confess to you that if it hadn't been the best possible fit, i was prepared to protect her. not sure how i would have done that, but i could not have let her go to the wrong home.
it was perfect, this one. the young couple was perfect. they asked the right questions, described what life would look like for her. they cuddled and cooed her, walked and played gently with her. knowing they wanted a dog companion, they had spent a month preparing their house and yard before ever starting the search. and they seemed to know that she was the one...the only dog they asked to meet. she was, it seems, meant for them.
i've since seen pictures of her swimming in a creek, stick in mouth. her new mom writes lovely things about how she's made their lives complete. she will go camping, climbing, hiking, exploring with them. she will be happy and fulfilled, respected and appreciated. but, still, my heart is torn.
it was a blessing, baby girl, to know you. i send you my love.
the biggest challenge about fostering dogs is that you get attached. it made me deeply sad when each of the little puppies left...i wasn't prepared for how hard it was, saying goodbye. and of course, i couldn't say goodbye at all to Maggie, the mom-dog. She's family, now.
with Felicia, i'd known from the start that she would do best living in a cat-free zone, so i had resisted thinking of her as mine. at the same time i accepted that hers was a limited demographic appeal and that if she never found that "click", she'd be staying with me...so while i appreciated and loved her, while i wept when she left and while i still miss her sweet, powerful energy, her leaving felt ordained...that things were as they should be.
baby girl was different. maybe cause i'd watched her, in the shelter and here at home, grow from a big, goofy pup into a young, peaceful, playful dog who was gradually revealing a beautiful old soul. she just seemed to grow more wonderful, by the day. so much time had passed that i was beginning to imagine her a permanent part of my life. the sudden prospect of letting her go was shocking and i'll confess to you that if it hadn't been the best possible fit, i was prepared to protect her. not sure how i would have done that, but i could not have let her go to the wrong home.
it was perfect, this one. the young couple was perfect. they asked the right questions, described what life would look like for her. they cuddled and cooed her, walked and played gently with her. knowing they wanted a dog companion, they had spent a month preparing their house and yard before ever starting the search. and they seemed to know that she was the one...the only dog they asked to meet. she was, it seems, meant for them.
i've since seen pictures of her swimming in a creek, stick in mouth. her new mom writes lovely things about how she's made their lives complete. she will go camping, climbing, hiking, exploring with them. she will be happy and fulfilled, respected and appreciated. but, still, my heart is torn.
it was a blessing, baby girl, to know you. i send you my love.
Monday, July 16, 2012
depending on how you spin it,
i'm either hopeful or deluded.
in the face of certain distressing realities, i can get discouraged but i seem to eventually hammer the world into some kind of cooperation...so that i get to believe things will all turn out ok. that i'm not just wasting my time on the planet, but actually moving some mystery a little closer to its fulfillment. i seriously don't know what i'm doing. i'm counting on the universe to make sense of it, some day.
my plan to travel with friends fell through this past weekend. i already had the necessities, i.e. a full tank and a critter sitter, so i decided to head up to the mountains for a little R&R. i took off, alone. but of course i had to go by the shelter for walkies on my way out of town and maybe you're not surprised that i left there much later than i'd planned. that i left there, totally unprepared, with a canine companion named Mr. Banks. Godhelpme.
Cat-like quiet but overtly little grey dogish, Mr. B looks something like a Chinese Crested...sort of lion maned head with big round eyes. slick, shiney black bat ears. He's a bit rat-ish in the tail area and the fur is possom sparse along his back. then there's that slip of pink tongue that peeks out one side of his mouth. To pile on more misfortune, he's not terribly personable...not happy or friendly. He growls. You can just be holding him and without warning, he starts. he doesn't like to be reached for or led on a leash. those things also make him grumbly. But his ribs stick out and his hip bones threaten to slice through his skin, so i'm not judging. I don't think he's got a lot of reason to like us.
my thinking - what there was of it that day - went something like this:
maybe Banks could use a little R&R, as well....
it bucketed rain, we got there late, the power was off, the phone was dead. there was the dank basement, the power restored, the screech of the pump alarm. there was the prospect of two days without running water, except for the kind that was gushing off the roof. i might have turned right around and headed home but i had my cranky little companion to consider. i'd signed him out for a two day foster, so we made the best of it.
as it happened, i was the more adaptable of the two of us. i was willing to pee outside.
Banks' attitude wasn't entirely positive about this new situation, which i'd somehow mistaken for an improvement over the kennel cage. he didn't seem to be enjoying himself and i was disappointed. here's where you get into that zen-master thing. he was teaching me something about my own expectations. i'd imagined that he'd be happy and that he'd remember what it was like to be playful and trusting. and there were a couple of moments like that. but after two days of peacefulness and gentle reassurance...two days of bountiful food and the chance to run around outside, he snapped at me...not just once, but twice before calmly turning and walking into his crate. i closed the door softly behind him and never mentioned it again. but something changed for Banks. he got sick in the night and continued to have an upset g.i. tract the next day. he was cooperative but withdrawn. he seemed more sad than ever.
things improved when a friend stopped by. he immediately took to her. climbed into her lap. wanted to be held. barked at her feet for her attention. responded to her call. he'd done none of that with me.
now there's something i need to consider. i've always gotten on with dogs sort of effortlessly and here i was extending myself on behalf of this one and he wasn't buying. the easy, less humbling explanation is that i reminded him of someone negative from his past. but maybe it isn't that simple. maybe there's something i need to face, like the possibility that i was communicating my own selfish expectations...that i was looking for some change or gratitude. maybe he felt like i was using him. certainly that wasn't my intention, but dogs read the unacknowledged in us. they respond as much to what we're about as they do to what we're saying. maybe he sensed that i was after an affirmation of my own goodness or that my decision to bring him along reeked of a certain smugness...
maybe he had the sense that, of the two of us, i was more the needy.
hmm.
talk about ugly....
talk about ugly....
Friday, July 13, 2012
Benefits of Being a DogWalker
i've been putting off writing this cause i just didn't want to do it.
not sure why but something in me resists self-helpishness...not because i don't believe in it...helping one's self...but because it suggests choosing a direction and it's just not in me to stick to one.
my personal journey has been a little floppy and loose, as opposed to tight and intentional. more wayward than focused. i just sort of get a general idea about a thing and my process, after idea formation, is to see what happens. like when i was a kid, i wanted to be a ballerina/veterinarian/social worker. after i had become wife and mother, after i'd taught school, sold real estate, and had a few other occupations, i got the degree and went into social work. my progress was interrupted by a storm with furious rain and terrible lightening that snapped and tore the sky. my little boat was tossed. when the waters calmed, i started over with alpaca ranching, antiques dealing and non-profit management. seems like the map of my life, at any one point in time, would not have indicated i'd wind up happy in the company of strays, like myself.
i can't tell you how to fix things in your life. flopping around only works for some folks. but i can tell you a few things that are good about dog walkin' at the shelter...why i keep going back. why you might want to give it a try.
1. fresh air and exercise. depending on your pace and the personal trainer on the other end of the leash, it can provide a cardio workout or weight resistance. you'll engage your core and build endurance. it's not quite yoga but there's some bending...and some breath control...during the Downward-to-pick-up-Dog-poo sequence.
2. social networking. not only will you make tons of cold-nosed furry friends, you will meet other two-leggeds who care enough about dogs to brave the heat on their behalf. both types will be a comfort when times are bad.
3. soul restoration. you're doing something kind for a population whose struggles are mostly invisible to the rest of the world...making life better for one dog at a time. it will give you a perspective whereby your own blessings become more apparent - and nothing restores the soul like feeling grateful.
4. you will inevitably find your zen master - the one who teaches you what you thought you knew - if you're into that sort of thing.
5. better sleep. from all the air and the breathing it and the giving of yourself.
6. lots of grateful kisses. which are worth more than you might imagine.
not sure why but something in me resists self-helpishness...not because i don't believe in it...helping one's self...but because it suggests choosing a direction and it's just not in me to stick to one.
my personal journey has been a little floppy and loose, as opposed to tight and intentional. more wayward than focused. i just sort of get a general idea about a thing and my process, after idea formation, is to see what happens. like when i was a kid, i wanted to be a ballerina/veterinarian/social worker. after i had become wife and mother, after i'd taught school, sold real estate, and had a few other occupations, i got the degree and went into social work. my progress was interrupted by a storm with furious rain and terrible lightening that snapped and tore the sky. my little boat was tossed. when the waters calmed, i started over with alpaca ranching, antiques dealing and non-profit management. seems like the map of my life, at any one point in time, would not have indicated i'd wind up happy in the company of strays, like myself.
i can't tell you how to fix things in your life. flopping around only works for some folks. but i can tell you a few things that are good about dog walkin' at the shelter...why i keep going back. why you might want to give it a try.
1. fresh air and exercise. depending on your pace and the personal trainer on the other end of the leash, it can provide a cardio workout or weight resistance. you'll engage your core and build endurance. it's not quite yoga but there's some bending...and some breath control...during the Downward-to-pick-up-Dog-poo sequence.
2. social networking. not only will you make tons of cold-nosed furry friends, you will meet other two-leggeds who care enough about dogs to brave the heat on their behalf. both types will be a comfort when times are bad.
3. soul restoration. you're doing something kind for a population whose struggles are mostly invisible to the rest of the world...making life better for one dog at a time. it will give you a perspective whereby your own blessings become more apparent - and nothing restores the soul like feeling grateful.
4. you will inevitably find your zen master - the one who teaches you what you thought you knew - if you're into that sort of thing.
5. better sleep. from all the air and the breathing it and the giving of yourself.
6. lots of grateful kisses. which are worth more than you might imagine.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
update on the little stray dog
i visited him today. found him shivering in the corner of his cage. he hadn't eaten or pooped. he was just stuck to that back wall. i coaxed him out and held him for a while. actually, he clung to me and stuck his head under my chin, like he was hiding. his toenails had been trimmed and i was relieved to see that his wee feet looked normal. state law requires that strays be held for 72 hours in case an owner might show up to claim them, regardless of how unlikely that seems. then they become county property, to be put up for adoption or not, as the deciders deem appropriate, so he won't be bathed till his hours are up and his stinky mats are sad to see. he hadn't eaten so i found some canned food and he tucked into it with some interest. he was sleeping when i left.
turned out, he had been dumped at the shelter two days ago, with a parakeet. they were able to get the bird but not the little guy. i'd say we can be pretty sure nobody's going to claim him and if they tried, they'd meet a hostile wall of people between themselves and the little stray cause everyone there knows his story. everyone there...every single person...was celebrating when they found out he was safe. i find that very moving...very telling about the folks who work there...very important about the place.
and just so you know, i did already put my name on his file, to say i'd take him as a foster if he needs care. AND there's another woman - a passerby who tried to help catch him initially - who has said she wants him, regardless of what they find. so maybe there's hope.
turned out, he had been dumped at the shelter two days ago, with a parakeet. they were able to get the bird but not the little guy. i'd say we can be pretty sure nobody's going to claim him and if they tried, they'd meet a hostile wall of people between themselves and the little stray cause everyone there knows his story. everyone there...every single person...was celebrating when they found out he was safe. i find that very moving...very telling about the folks who work there...very important about the place.
and just so you know, i did already put my name on his file, to say i'd take him as a foster if he needs care. AND there's another woman - a passerby who tried to help catch him initially - who has said she wants him, regardless of what they find. so maybe there's hope.
Monday, July 9, 2012
little bit of sweetness, today...
ok, so i went to the shelter early, to avoid the searing heat of afternoon. chose wee Mr. Banks for the first walk cause i'm thinking about getting him for my mother. i worry about her, at 86, living alone and far away. she needs something to obsess over and complain about and Mr. B is just the kind of dog she hates to love...
the shelter shares a wide lawn with the iconic Sunshine Home and Rehab. Most of the trees and therefore most of the shade is on their side, forcing me, as the day goes on, closer to their Sunshiney actual building. Today, i met Walter there. I'd watched him roll up and park and then i'd seen him watching me and Mr Banks as we sniffed our way through the shady grass. Of course i took his looking for longing and marched Mr B right up to the wheelchair and introduced ourselves. Walter seemed pleased to be petting a dog, again and he told me how he used to raise beagles. how he taught them to hunt and how they kept a pack so tight when they were moving that you could throw a blanket and cover 8 of them at once. i promised to return with beagles. but before i left, he pointed out a tiny blonde dog, standing under a car across the parking lot.
for the next 4 hours, i courted the little three pound stray. he was very interested in other dogs but wanted nothing to do with two-leggeds. approaching made him run toward the busy street, so there was no question of trying to chase him and he was too smart for the humane trap they set out, baited with a fragrant bowl of dog food stew. but he was curious about Mr. B and the succession of dogs that followed him. each time i emerged with a new dog he'd appear and march right up and introduce himself. i liked that about him. He met Chipper the chihauhua, Sharon, the beagle (who made Walter wonder if they let folks have dogs there at the Sunshine place), Frank, the other beagle (who Walt felt certain could be taught to hunt) and the exquisite, intimidatingly beautiful Jackson. The little stray liked all of them. and I could tell he was warming to me when he came over and pretend-peed on my shoes.
He wasn't as impressed with Iris or Mazie. Who he loved was Sissy. I brought her out and found a high spot of ground where we could sit and lean against a tree and Sis, who is, i'm sorry, hell on wheels inside the shelter and who, when she gets outside becomes very subdued, threw herself down beside me to gnaw on a stick. Before long, the little guy approached. There was the usual sniffing and wagging and then, in the most casual way, he walked very close to where i sat. i held my hand just above him, letting him decide if he wanted to be touched...which he did. he kept going till he was a few feet away where he found something very interesting that he needed to study for a bit. then he came back, passing close, allowing me to hold my hand above him, barely touching. finally, he lay down beside me and i gently stroked his head.
i waited a respectable time before i picked him up and carried him under one arm, back to the shelter. I told him he'd made a good choice and i believe that. His toe nails, the ones that aren't broken and dangling, curl in tendrils around his feet. His fur is matted and filthy. Something must be wrong with his mouth because he wouldn't eat, though he is barely more than bones. No telling what all might be wrong with such a one. The odds weigh heavily against his ever making it to adoptions because the shelter doesn't have the resources to nurse dogs back to health if they have a serious issue.
So i left him there and headed home. but the overwhelming image i can't shake is of his sweet, round head...the way it fit so well into the cup of my palm. and the feeling i can't ignore is that i was profoundly blessed in that moment when he surrendered...in that moment when nothing else mattered...nothing else existed...in that small and tender moment.
the shelter shares a wide lawn with the iconic Sunshine Home and Rehab. Most of the trees and therefore most of the shade is on their side, forcing me, as the day goes on, closer to their Sunshiney actual building. Today, i met Walter there. I'd watched him roll up and park and then i'd seen him watching me and Mr Banks as we sniffed our way through the shady grass. Of course i took his looking for longing and marched Mr B right up to the wheelchair and introduced ourselves. Walter seemed pleased to be petting a dog, again and he told me how he used to raise beagles. how he taught them to hunt and how they kept a pack so tight when they were moving that you could throw a blanket and cover 8 of them at once. i promised to return with beagles. but before i left, he pointed out a tiny blonde dog, standing under a car across the parking lot.
for the next 4 hours, i courted the little three pound stray. he was very interested in other dogs but wanted nothing to do with two-leggeds. approaching made him run toward the busy street, so there was no question of trying to chase him and he was too smart for the humane trap they set out, baited with a fragrant bowl of dog food stew. but he was curious about Mr. B and the succession of dogs that followed him. each time i emerged with a new dog he'd appear and march right up and introduce himself. i liked that about him. He met Chipper the chihauhua, Sharon, the beagle (who made Walter wonder if they let folks have dogs there at the Sunshine place), Frank, the other beagle (who Walt felt certain could be taught to hunt) and the exquisite, intimidatingly beautiful Jackson. The little stray liked all of them. and I could tell he was warming to me when he came over and pretend-peed on my shoes.
He wasn't as impressed with Iris or Mazie. Who he loved was Sissy. I brought her out and found a high spot of ground where we could sit and lean against a tree and Sis, who is, i'm sorry, hell on wheels inside the shelter and who, when she gets outside becomes very subdued, threw herself down beside me to gnaw on a stick. Before long, the little guy approached. There was the usual sniffing and wagging and then, in the most casual way, he walked very close to where i sat. i held my hand just above him, letting him decide if he wanted to be touched...which he did. he kept going till he was a few feet away where he found something very interesting that he needed to study for a bit. then he came back, passing close, allowing me to hold my hand above him, barely touching. finally, he lay down beside me and i gently stroked his head.
i waited a respectable time before i picked him up and carried him under one arm, back to the shelter. I told him he'd made a good choice and i believe that. His toe nails, the ones that aren't broken and dangling, curl in tendrils around his feet. His fur is matted and filthy. Something must be wrong with his mouth because he wouldn't eat, though he is barely more than bones. No telling what all might be wrong with such a one. The odds weigh heavily against his ever making it to adoptions because the shelter doesn't have the resources to nurse dogs back to health if they have a serious issue.
So i left him there and headed home. but the overwhelming image i can't shake is of his sweet, round head...the way it fit so well into the cup of my palm. and the feeling i can't ignore is that i was profoundly blessed in that moment when he surrendered...in that moment when nothing else mattered...nothing else existed...in that small and tender moment.
i'm not a big fan of guilt
as a motivator but yesterday, when i was too tired to go to the shelter, it finally drove me there. my first reaction, on finding that all the dogs had already been walked, was relief. it was too hot and like i said i was too tired and i had the choice to give them each a cookie and head home. but i chose, instead, the pleasure of surprising them with seconds. most, by then, were badly in need of another potty break. it made me think how many hours, on a normal day, they spend waiting.
it's so easy to get into a minimal mind set, where it feels somehow like a victory if every dog has had one chance to pee outside in a day. but many of these animals come from homes where they've been taught to wait and some of them, like little Jackson and sweet Nellie, will stop eating when they can't get out. once a day feels less than grand when you notice the way they suffer to keep from soiling their little space.
i read about a place called Dog Island where they say the animals are free...uncaged, unfenced to run as they please. they have no masters. there are no rules. they have returned to Eden. according to the website, the dogs come from individuals and from shelters. you apply and once he's accepted, you just slap a stamp on Bowzer and send him along. he will spend a few weeks being socialized with other new arrivals. when that group has bonded, formed a pack, they'll be released together to return to their feral state, spending their days hunting for food (the island has been stocked with a large rabbit population) and their nights sleeping together outside or in caves. in the few photos they share, the dogs look happy and healthy - engaged with one another as they play in the surf or sit side by side in doggie meditation.
there's little information available, a certain vagueness in the details, so i'm not clear what's behind it...how well it works or whether to trust that it is what it claims to be. it's financed by "very rich people." no joke. that's how they account for it's existence. really? it feels almost like some kind of sinister experiment...some Lord of the Flies, Canine Edition, so i'm definitely not recommending it, but i am suggesting that as a concept, there's something worth consideration. as a concept, it sets a few things in sharp relief - like the ways we mold our pets to fit our lives... it raises the question whether our demands are entirely fair or helpful...whether we might want to change a thing or two. i'm not suggesting you stock the back yard with bunnies and lock the dog outside. but maybe there's a middle ground - located between our ears - a place where we simply hold on to the awareness that the animals in our lives, despite generations of domestication, still have instincts and impulses and survival skills they need to exercise...that we might do well to respect them because when we don't, it can lead to those things that make us crazy and that we label as misbehavior.
i quit buying stuffed toys for Nini years ago cause all she did was disembowel them in the first five minutes. i realize now that she actually needed to do that...it's in her DNA, just like gnawing on a bone. if there's no bone, there's always a table leg or a running shoe, which for sure smells like the wild outdoors. up there beside you on the sofa, eating popcorn and watching Jeopardy, that's a hunter...a predator. cat's chase a feather on a string for the same reason dogs chase a tennis ball...cause in their instinctive brain, it's supper, getting away.
i have some uneasiness around the Dog Island idea...but despite my scepticism, the insatiably nosey part of me can't help wanting to go and work there, for the chance to see what happens. i'm curious what dogs are really like, when they're free of our society... when they don't have to wait for either our help or our permission to get on with living.
it's so easy to get into a minimal mind set, where it feels somehow like a victory if every dog has had one chance to pee outside in a day. but many of these animals come from homes where they've been taught to wait and some of them, like little Jackson and sweet Nellie, will stop eating when they can't get out. once a day feels less than grand when you notice the way they suffer to keep from soiling their little space.
i read about a place called Dog Island where they say the animals are free...uncaged, unfenced to run as they please. they have no masters. there are no rules. they have returned to Eden. according to the website, the dogs come from individuals and from shelters. you apply and once he's accepted, you just slap a stamp on Bowzer and send him along. he will spend a few weeks being socialized with other new arrivals. when that group has bonded, formed a pack, they'll be released together to return to their feral state, spending their days hunting for food (the island has been stocked with a large rabbit population) and their nights sleeping together outside or in caves. in the few photos they share, the dogs look happy and healthy - engaged with one another as they play in the surf or sit side by side in doggie meditation.
there's little information available, a certain vagueness in the details, so i'm not clear what's behind it...how well it works or whether to trust that it is what it claims to be. it's financed by "very rich people." no joke. that's how they account for it's existence. really? it feels almost like some kind of sinister experiment...some Lord of the Flies, Canine Edition, so i'm definitely not recommending it, but i am suggesting that as a concept, there's something worth consideration. as a concept, it sets a few things in sharp relief - like the ways we mold our pets to fit our lives... it raises the question whether our demands are entirely fair or helpful...whether we might want to change a thing or two. i'm not suggesting you stock the back yard with bunnies and lock the dog outside. but maybe there's a middle ground - located between our ears - a place where we simply hold on to the awareness that the animals in our lives, despite generations of domestication, still have instincts and impulses and survival skills they need to exercise...that we might do well to respect them because when we don't, it can lead to those things that make us crazy and that we label as misbehavior.
i quit buying stuffed toys for Nini years ago cause all she did was disembowel them in the first five minutes. i realize now that she actually needed to do that...it's in her DNA, just like gnawing on a bone. if there's no bone, there's always a table leg or a running shoe, which for sure smells like the wild outdoors. up there beside you on the sofa, eating popcorn and watching Jeopardy, that's a hunter...a predator. cat's chase a feather on a string for the same reason dogs chase a tennis ball...cause in their instinctive brain, it's supper, getting away.
i have some uneasiness around the Dog Island idea...but despite my scepticism, the insatiably nosey part of me can't help wanting to go and work there, for the chance to see what happens. i'm curious what dogs are really like, when they're free of our society... when they don't have to wait for either our help or our permission to get on with living.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
here's why
i haven't been writing. i've tried and failed cause, while i've continued my work at the shelter, my heart and mind have been tied up with other struggles, unrelated.
my daughter and her sons were in the first group to be evacuated from one of the wildfire areas in Colorado a few weeks ago. they wound up having to re-locate three times in three days, as the destruction moved up the pass...as one sanctuary after another was threatened. they watched the flames roar across the hillside above their little community. they searched for news of where it was headed, of when they'd have to run, again. they listened for the reverse-911 call that would tell them to go.
it scares me, even to consider what that was like...
the pressure of having to decide what to save...what was precious enough to be given space in the little car. so much of meaning in our lives is irreplacable but not necessary for survival and so, is left behind. is remembered with sadness. for people like my daughter, there's the challenge of trying to remain calm for the sake of the children and at the same time, moving with urgency to collect what's needed for an uncertain future.
there's the pervasive fear...for your own family, for your friends and neighbors, for the fire fighters. it fills my heart that in the first moments after she knew they had to pack, before the actual evacuation alert, my child took time to run across the road to warn an elderly neighbor. i couldn't be more proud of the way she handled the entire, extended nightmare...of the strength she found inside herself to deal with a soul chilling reality.
she returned, yesterday, to her home. the fire came within a quarter mile, but skipped over their little town. it surrounded them and so she will not be without grief. for some time, she will face the blackened remains of loss. and so the questions begin, of how you can...whether you can return to life as normal. how do you shake the fear? how do you integrate the experience of helplessness and vulnerability?
in the case of this fire, there is reason to think it was deliberately set, as several smaller ones in the area had recently been started. how do you resolve, in your own heart, the cold indifference of the anonymous other who held the match?
it brings home to me the fragility of the worlds we've created. it resonates with the familiarity of wars and natural disasters that beset us frail humans around the globe. it reminds me, again, of how we are the same in our desires and in our pain.
my daughter and her sons were in the first group to be evacuated from one of the wildfire areas in Colorado a few weeks ago. they wound up having to re-locate three times in three days, as the destruction moved up the pass...as one sanctuary after another was threatened. they watched the flames roar across the hillside above their little community. they searched for news of where it was headed, of when they'd have to run, again. they listened for the reverse-911 call that would tell them to go.
it scares me, even to consider what that was like...
the pressure of having to decide what to save...what was precious enough to be given space in the little car. so much of meaning in our lives is irreplacable but not necessary for survival and so, is left behind. is remembered with sadness. for people like my daughter, there's the challenge of trying to remain calm for the sake of the children and at the same time, moving with urgency to collect what's needed for an uncertain future.
there's the pervasive fear...for your own family, for your friends and neighbors, for the fire fighters. it fills my heart that in the first moments after she knew they had to pack, before the actual evacuation alert, my child took time to run across the road to warn an elderly neighbor. i couldn't be more proud of the way she handled the entire, extended nightmare...of the strength she found inside herself to deal with a soul chilling reality.
she returned, yesterday, to her home. the fire came within a quarter mile, but skipped over their little town. it surrounded them and so she will not be without grief. for some time, she will face the blackened remains of loss. and so the questions begin, of how you can...whether you can return to life as normal. how do you shake the fear? how do you integrate the experience of helplessness and vulnerability?
in the case of this fire, there is reason to think it was deliberately set, as several smaller ones in the area had recently been started. how do you resolve, in your own heart, the cold indifference of the anonymous other who held the match?
it brings home to me the fragility of the worlds we've created. it resonates with the familiarity of wars and natural disasters that beset us frail humans around the globe. it reminds me, again, of how we are the same in our desires and in our pain.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
you know how
when you're in the skid car and they take the traction off all four tires at once and you go whirling helplessly toward the flaming desert sun and it feels like you're on some kind of carney ride so you may as well relax cause there's nothing you can do till it's over, anyway? and you realize you absolutely love that feeling? and then it starts to slow and it's got that sweet, smooth glide to it and you can just hear Lara's Theme and the jingling of harness bells in your head? you slow to a stop. it's quiet except for the engine's tick but your body's still in motion...you're off center and out of balance and you're not sure you can stand, much less walk.
that's how i'm feeling.
can't figure what's happened, how i got here, where to go next.
what more can i say about shelter work? it hurts. every single one of the animals is wonderful. every one. not to say i'd take all of them home....i realize i have a limit and that i simply cannot care for more. at least not in the way that they deserve. i'm down to four dogs now, with Felicia happily homed elsewhere. And it's not the feeding or the vet visits or the meds that make it difficult having four. It's the fact that i fell in love with each of them as individuals...developed a relationship with one at a time. By bringing them together, i've created a writhing pack of creatures in constant motion, in constant competition for that unique relationship we used to have but have no more because their collective emotional demands are infinite and my emotional resources are not.
i always think, about the shelter dogs, if they only had a place to run they'd be so happy, so healthy, so calm. it's what i always wish for them when they're adopted...that they get the chance to run and to behave like dogs again...but my dogs have that and they're not happy.
They're very well cared for, my dogs. They have good food, treats, toys. They have fresh air and the freedom to safely run and explore. They have each other for companions and they sleep in clean beds, just outside my room. We go for walks together, twice a day. And they're not happy. When they're made to stay outside, they suffer, wearing a path around the house from the back step to the doggie door, back and forth on the chance they might squeak inside. If they are inside, they're following me. They tussle outside the bathroom door. No one lies down, ever...they stand in constant attendance, pawing at me, jockeying for position.
And it hurts my heart to say but I'm not happy, either.
I have to question what i've done here. I have to ask if any of us are better off or whether, perhaps, i've just created another unhappy shelter...a different kind of hell where it's the soul caged and starving.
that's how i'm feeling.
can't figure what's happened, how i got here, where to go next.
what more can i say about shelter work? it hurts. every single one of the animals is wonderful. every one. not to say i'd take all of them home....i realize i have a limit and that i simply cannot care for more. at least not in the way that they deserve. i'm down to four dogs now, with Felicia happily homed elsewhere. And it's not the feeding or the vet visits or the meds that make it difficult having four. It's the fact that i fell in love with each of them as individuals...developed a relationship with one at a time. By bringing them together, i've created a writhing pack of creatures in constant motion, in constant competition for that unique relationship we used to have but have no more because their collective emotional demands are infinite and my emotional resources are not.
i always think, about the shelter dogs, if they only had a place to run they'd be so happy, so healthy, so calm. it's what i always wish for them when they're adopted...that they get the chance to run and to behave like dogs again...but my dogs have that and they're not happy.
They're very well cared for, my dogs. They have good food, treats, toys. They have fresh air and the freedom to safely run and explore. They have each other for companions and they sleep in clean beds, just outside my room. We go for walks together, twice a day. And they're not happy. When they're made to stay outside, they suffer, wearing a path around the house from the back step to the doggie door, back and forth on the chance they might squeak inside. If they are inside, they're following me. They tussle outside the bathroom door. No one lies down, ever...they stand in constant attendance, pawing at me, jockeying for position.
And it hurts my heart to say but I'm not happy, either.
I have to question what i've done here. I have to ask if any of us are better off or whether, perhaps, i've just created another unhappy shelter...a different kind of hell where it's the soul caged and starving.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)