Word of Warning: If you are not following along on this Rescue Diary on Facebook, you may not know that this story is a hard one. Sadly, it is a reality of rescue that we can’t save them all and that sometimes the damage that has been done prior to the dog arriving with us is insurmountable. Still, we do all we can and while that may not be enough, it is more than many dogs would experience apart from rescue. The following are the Facebook Diary posts in their entirety:Continue reading Diary of a Rescue: Week One
I sat down at my computer to write on Monday morning and a text popped up from Hula Hoop’s adopter. She is in love with Hula, now Willow, and sent a picture of her sporting a pretty new collar and surveying her new stash of toys.
“Working from home today with my little love bug! But hardly working because I can’t stop watching her! She is such a good girl and we are blessed to have her!”
These are the messages that make it all worthwhile.
My next foster dog arrives tonight, a pregnant shepherd mix from South Carolina named Daisy.
I plan to chronicle her journey in realtime on my Facebook writer page. If you’re not on Facebook, I will collect those entries and publish them weekly on this blog.
Word of warning: there are no guarantees here. This is a shelter dog with no history, so while I hope there’s a happy ending coming, that may not be the case. Mama dogs who land in shelters have often not had any kind of prenatal care, may be undernourished, riddled with worms, and definitely not talking about who the baby daddy is. My most recent mama dog had a near textbook delivery, while the one before that was tragic. I want to be honest about this business of rescuing dogs and will share with you the story, no matter the outcome.
Hula, who you will remember arrived deathly thin, riddled with worms and nursing three puppies, is a new dog. She has gained weight, her coat has a nice gloss, and there are no traces of her mommy-life. She is full-on puppy and always ready to play. She is also always ready to steal socks. She pilfers them out of dirty laundry baskets and from where they hide, abandoned in a ball under the couch. Once in her possession, she challenges Frankie or Flannery to a game of tug of war.
Our little pack has settled in. Brady calls them my entourage, as all four dogs—our Frankie and Gracie, plus fosters Flannery and Hula, follow me from room to room. As I sit at my desk now, Hula is lounging in her crate behind me, Gracie has claimed the sun spot on the carpet near the door, and Frankie and Flannery are squeezed together on the dog bed.
Normally, we live in a gated community. One baby gate sections off the hallway to the puppy room, in addition to the fence that fills the doorway of the puppy room (the flannel sheet hanging over it traps the heat inside and keeps the room warmer, it also allows the pups to get away with all manner of naughtiness).
These gates will come down in just a week and a half when all three pups go to their forever homes.
Another baby gate separates the kitchen from the rest of the house.
For me, instead of getting crazier, Christmas is a slow down time. We don’t host a big family dinner. We don’t travel anywhere. In fact, we don’t even get invited to many parties and Nick’s work hasn’t had a holiday party in over a decade.
Without little kids bugging me to do it, I haven’t even pulled out the Christmas decorations yet. (And part of me thinks, there is so little time left, maybe I should just skip it?) We will finally get a Christmas tree this weekend when all three kids will be home on break. Maybe then I will dig out the holiday music and think about making some cookies.
One thing that is becoming a tradition for us, though, is Christmas puppies! We’ve had a litter every Christmas since we started fostering, so this is our fourth holiday litter.