Meet our current (about to change) roster:
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.
They stretch the sock into unimaginable proportions, and then, Continue reading You Can’t Tell the Players without a Program
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.
This is where our adult foster dogs usually reside. That gate will remain closed until Continue reading Our Gated Community
Without Oreo the house feels empty.
In fact, after he left on Saturday with his new family, Frankie spent the rest of the morning looking for his pal. He ran up and down the stairs and wanted to go out in the playyard to look and then back in the house to make the rounds again. It was a good thing we had Sip for a Cause on our calendar that night to distract all of us.
Some dogs are just special. Not that I haven’t loved every dog I’ve fostered, but some of them burrow a little deeper into your heart.
I saw something on Facebook about the pain you endure as a foster mom yesterday. It said – Continue reading The Tears Are More Than Worth It
“Ah. I can’t do this anymore!” I wailed at Nick after I cleaned up puppy diarrhea coated on every square inch of the puppy pen, every toy, every fence.
“You know,” Nick observed from where he sat with Oreo watching football with a beer in his hand, “You reach this point with every litter.”
I know I post all the fun and cuteness and make it look like puppies are the best thing ever, but here’s the God’s-honest truth: Continue reading It’s Worth All the Poop (really)
It’s hard to write about the dogs when I’m not with the dogs, but I’ll try. I’m actually in a California hotel room recovering from my brief brush with Hollywood. If you’d like to read about that adventure, you can find it on my other blog, My Life In Paragraphs.
The drama continues with Oreo. Continue reading Should He Stay or Should He Go Now?
I’m home again now and only just beginning to process all that I saw and learned in the last ten days touring shelters in the south. Images of the dogs haunt me – their eyes full of sadness and confusion, their bodies tense and leaping with stress or shut down and still.
They scroll through my mind when I wake in the night and when I sit down at the computer now to write this. There is much to feel hopeless about in the world of southern shelters and rural dog rescue.
But there is also much to be hopeful about. There were two shelters we visited that made it clear that while there is still so far to go, Continue reading It Can Be Done (but it may require SuperWoman)
Vacations always seem like a good idea when I’m planning them. But when it’s time for the trip to actually happen, I always say (Nick can back me up on this) – What was I thinking? I’m never going away again.
We’re leaving on Thursday at 4am in the morning for our 10-day trip to California for my nephew’s wedding and a long-overdue celebration of my mother-in-law’s 80th birthday. My two college age children will be in charge of the ranch while we’re gone. So nothing to worry about, right? Continue reading Home Alone (Canine Edition)