I got a text from Kelly the other day, asking if I could photograph some puppies and their mom. Um, yes! Of course, I said yes.
It was a good day for puppies. Some days just have a drib-drab about them, and I’ve been having a spell of those days lately. But when these five five-week old puppies showed up on my doorstep for their photo shoot, the melancholy scampered away.
Family portrait of five puppies. Left to right: Paprika, Safflower, Dill, Rue, and Juniper.
Puppies!
Mama dog, Canela, had been rounded up by an animal control officer. The little chihuahua-dachshund-terrier (?) mix was close to her due date, and a call had been made to One More Dog Rescue to help. Canela ended up with a foster mom who doubled as midwife, helping her deliver six beautiful puppies a couple of days later. Two days later, Ash died–he had been the smallest and the only black puppy in the brood. The remaining five caramel and vanilla colored pups are Paprika and Safflower (girls) and Dill, Juniper, and Rue boys. By the looks of the babes, dad had a good helping of Cocker Spaniel in him. They are five-and-a half-weeks old now, and starting to come into their personalities. When they aren’t sleeping, they are chasing mom Canela for milk. Canela kept good watch on her puppies, but she was also ready to play like a puppy herself. All of these sweeties will be up for adoption soon on the One More Dog Rescue site.
Mama dog Canela with the big eyes is ready to be done with nursing puppies. She’s good at counting the puppies, and her toys.Canela is waiting for a treat, and keeps taking a watchful glance at her sleeping babies.
And…here are the puppies!
Paprika. This brave little girl was the first to sit for her portrait.By frame five, Paprika was bored by the camera, and ready for her nap.Safflower stretches her legs.Safflower smiles for the camera.Dill was the only one I heard growl…and only when Rue kept stepping on him.Dill poses for his portrait.Juniper wonders why we woke him up.Juniper. Still wondering about his nap time.Rue the charmer was finally awake, and ready to rumble.Rue was the only one who played…with some dramatic pawing that offset his balance.
If you are a dog lover, please ADOPT from, FOSTER for, VOLUNTEER with, or DONATE to a rescue group. Ditto for cat lovers. Support Spay/Neuter programs in your city. And please, take great care of all animals.
Otto was a boxer. A long-legged, calm, quiet old man. He came to stay with us on Friday, 8/17 around 3:30 p.m.
Otto had been dropped off at a Chicago shelter two weeks before. Rescuers pulled him and took him to a veterinarian for an isolation period necessary because of the presence of contagious kennel cough and dog flu in the shelter. The plan now was for Otto to stay with us for about 10 days for more healing, then move permanently into a home with other boxers where he’d live out his life. But Otto had lymphoma. And after only six days at our house, his two rescuers and I sat surrounding him at a veterinary clinic on the south side of Chicago, and brushed his thin body as he peacefully passed over to the other side.
At the moment I wrote the following, it was Thursday evening. I was back home and it was within two hours of Otto’s passing. I wanted to remember him, to honor him with stories to carry, and to mark the place in my heart where he’d eased into and curled up to stay after only six days. I sat down with a glass of wine and wrote:
On Friday afternoon, 8/17, an emaciated dog stepped out of Kelly and G’s car and walked up my front steps. Otto the Boxer came with a small bag of medications, several cans of dog food, and a rotisserie chicken. He stepped in to my house and walked slowly around, taking polite looks…like a human guest.
He was coming from a clinic, where he’d been for almost two weeks to heal from kennel cough and crud picked up during his time at the shelter before being rescued. Poor old Otto didn’t do well there. He was sick. He was heartbroken. He was missing meals. He lost a lot of weight. Our goal was to feed this boy and make him comfortable so he’d eat and feel better again.
He was silent. He never barked or whined, not even in his sleep. I heard him deep breathing–when you could see his skin pull in between his ribs. A few times I heard him trying to vomit something that never came out. I heard his feet sliding on the hardwood floors as he stood up. I heard him shake off sleep, and I heard him shake off the water whenever he walked under the sprinkler. I heard his toenails drag a little on the sidewalk when we strolled ever so slowly around the block. I heard his stomach churning, and I heard his explosive diarrhea one day. I heard him drink water, and thankfully–finally–I got to hear him EAT. But I never heard him speak.
That first day, he refused most food. Saturday, I walked him to an evening concert in the park just around the corner. He wasn’t supposed to “canoodle” with other dogs, so we stood on the sideline. I asked him if he liked jazz, if he knew what canoodling was, if he liked the smell of grass, if the sound of locust made him love summer. And he wagged his stubby tail and smiled.
Otto followed me. Upstairs, downstairs, room to room, and even to the bathroom. He walked around the back yard with me when I fed the birds. He looked for me, watched for me. He was curious. He stood watch at the door when I set the sprinklers to water the front yard’s new sod. He looked at the back gate when the trash men were in the alley. Always silent. It made him seem strong and protective. He made me feel loved and cared for.
Still, he didn’t really eat–just a bite here or there. We stopped his medications, maybe they were making his stomach hurt too much to eat. On Sunday morning, his rescuers came to see him with tempting foods that other sick dogs give up their hunger-strikes for. Liverwurst and cheese worked that day, but only after Judy put a little in his jowls to give him the taste.
By Monday, he was refusing food again. Kelly and G came over with a different set of pain medications and we began giving him an appetite stimulant–3 tiny syringes of thick liquid squirted into his mouth. He never fought it, or ran away. His pills were hidden in spoonfuls of peanut butter. We started giving him all meat, it’s all he would eat. No more rice mixed in for binding his stools. He just spit rice out anyway–little grains are here, there, and everywhere.
On Tuesday morning, he started eating while on the front porch watching Bryan water the yard. I’d put a little bowl beside him filled with steaming rotisserie chicken–and he leaned over and cleaned that bowl. We always raced around when he started eating–putting more, more, more down, adding variety like hamburger, liverwurst, cheese, McDonald’s sausage patties and burgers. We’d fill dishes up until he was full or tired of the options. At the end of the day, so many bowls were dirty on the counter.
His right leg was swollen when he arrived. On Tuesday, his left leg began to look bigger. It was confirmed he had Lymphoma. G brought cancer meds for him that night.
Lymphoma acts quickly. Rapid weight loss. Otto had been rescued 8/3. Kelly showed us pictures from that day. He was a different dog. Normal looking. Not a sack of bones. He was eating now, because of the appetite stimulant. He slept more on Wednesday. Groggy from the medicines maybe. Wednesday, Bryan made him bacon…which he woke up for, and loved.
It was a hard night Wednesday. He and I had been sleeping downstairs, closer to outdoors and the food in case he woke up hungry. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I woke up to hear him heaving to vomit, again without any result. Hardly drinking overnight, and in the morning, looking even more emaciated…though he was eating.
This morning, it seemed this was coming to an end. We spent a couple of hours outside. He fell asleep in the grass next to me when I was pulling weeds. He made a fast two steps towards a squirrel high on the fence, and then turned to look at me when the squirrel ran away. “Yes, Otto. I saw that.”
A couple of hours later, I sat on the floor with him. Trying to coax him with chicken. He was so sleepy, he only looked with one barely-open eye. So I sat and brushed him for a long, perfectly silent time.
As the conversations and texts started this afternoon about his continued weight loss, possible suffering, diminishing quality of life, and dignity, he woke up and came to sit beside me. Arrangements were made for tonight. I cried. I brushed him again, his head turning into the brush at his neck. He stepped away, and stood for a moment, before walking over to a squeaky toy–and pawing it. The only time he’d seemed interested in play. My heart lifted so hard. He didn’t play, though he did tilt his head when I made the toy squeak and patted it on the floor around his feet. I helped him get on the couch when he asked. But he crawled down when I went to another room to get the camera.
Such a sweet old soul. He followed me around. He looked for me. He adopted me. He stood with me when I made him more bacon this afternoon. As soon as it was ready, he ate some chicken and six pieces of bacon. He refused the seventh piece. He followed me around the house as I got my shoes on and locked up. And then G came. It was six days–to the hour–since Otto had arrived here in our home. Otto and I sat in the backseat, he staring out the open window, and every so often, glancing around at me with a smile.
And so it was that I went with him to the vet tonight, toting the rest of his bacon and a brush for those final moments. I brushed him to sleep, and then they administered the drugs that took him away. At 6:44 p.m., I texted Bryan at work. “He’s gone.”
Now I’m having a glass of wine in honor of Otto. Just like we’ve done for all of our dogs at their passing. A cork with his name on it will go into the bowl and a photo will go on the heaven shelf in my closet. After only six days, he was mine–or I was his.
Tonight, the vet had said he couldn’t even hear Otto’s heart because of the fluids built up. I never heard his voice, but I did hear his heart. Now, I’m listening to a deafening silence. No tags jingling, or feet sliding or bony hips plopping onto hardwood floors, no heavy breathing, no lapping water. No dog follows me to the bathroom, or relocates to sit near me when I move across the room.
Before we left our house tonight, I talked to him about how many people loved him. Otto was surrounded by new friends tonight–people he didn’t even know 20 days ago. But people who cared enough to be with him until the very end. I think he understood.
My last photo of Otto. Thursday, 8/23/18, 6:20 p.m.
Those of you who know me, know that I believe with all my heart that dogs are angels. Until we all meet again, please watch over us my pups.
Please visit One More Dog Rescue to learn more, to foster (if you are in the Chicagoland area or in Connecticut), or to make a donation to help other dogs in need. Thank you.
Otto in the evening of the day he came to stay with us, Friday, 8/17/18.Otto hears jets, the Saturday of the Chicago Air and Water Show. 8/18/18.Otto at the concert in the park on Saturday. 8/18/18.Otto watching the sprinklers from the porch, on Sunday 8/19/18.Otto telling me about the squirrels on the deck, Sunday, 8/19/18Otto on Monday 8/20/18, sleeping by Bryan.Tuesday morning, 8/21/18. Otto in the kitchen while his food heats up.Tuesday morning, 8/21/18. Otto with an appetizer on the porch. Waiting for the appetite stimulants to kick in.Otto enjoying a back rub from Bryan on Tuesday, 8/21/18.Close-up of Otto getting a back rub from Bryan on Tuesday 8/21/18.Otto’s profile. Just look at those Boxer jowls! 🙂Tuesday 8/21/18, Otto watches while I work.Otto snoozing on Tuesday afternoon, 8/21/18.Wednesday, 8/22/18. Otto in the backyard.Thursday morning, 8/23/18. Otto falling asleep in the grass.Otto surveying the yard on Thursday 8/23/18 after staring down a squirrel.Thursday evening, 8/23/18. Otto with his two rescuers, Judy and Kelly.
Almost 8 million dogs and cats enter U.S. shelters each year, and almost 50% of them will not come out alive. The cycle is horrific. Dogs come in abused, neglected, heartbroken, sick, old, pure-bred–with one thing in common…they are unwanted and unloved. It is hard on the animal-lovers who work for the shelter. It is hard on anyone who loves animals.
What many people don’t realize is that about 35% of abandoned animals are pulled out of shelters by rescue groups. Rescuers go deep into the shelters looking for adoptable dogs. They find foster homes, they provide food and vaccinations and spay/neuters. Their own homes are usually brimming with wagging tails. They sell t-shirts for medical care fundraisers. They network to find just the right family for each dog. They organize transport to move dogs all over the country, to get them to homes where they will be loved and taken care of. Their phones buzz with incoming texts, emails, messages…about the dogs they’ve saved, or about dogs that are urgently in need of a place to stay before time runs out.
Rescue groups operate all around us. Rescuers seem to lead double lives…working full time jobs, raising families and in the background giving the rest of their time, hearts and homes to the dogs they save. It takes a great human to traverse through this bittersweet cycle. Rescuers experience extreme joy when opening a shelter cage to save a dog, only to turn around and have their hearts broken when they look into the eyes of the desperate dogs still in their kennels. And there is pain–anger–when they walk to the front of the shelter, only to see a line of people dropping off unwanted pets. It takes a hearty soul to care so deeply, to do so much, to function so effectively around “humanity” and to give so much of their lives.
This is the story of Kelly and Judy: special souls who are dog rescuers with One More Dog Rescue in this never-ending stream of unwanted and abused animals. View the photos in slideshow to see captions for each. Start slideshow by clicking on the first photo, and then using the arrows to navigate through.
Want to help? Please…ADOPT. FOSTER. DONATE.
Rescuers make life or death choices. Every day. Rescue groups are responsible for saving about 35-40% of the dogs brought into shelters, pulling those considered adoptable and transporting them around the country. But it is hard. There is compassion fatigue from witnessing all the sad, scared eyes, all the life behind those bars. The dogs are desperate for someone to slow down, to look, to touch, to acknowledge that they are alive. 2013.
Rows and rows of metal cages, filled with barking, terrified dogs. Almost half of the dogs who enter a shelter will never make it out. Judy walks the rows looking for the right dogs to fit open foster homes. These trips to the back pavilions at the shelter can take hours as rescuers talk to each other and shelter staff/volunteers and network the dogs across social media. 2013.
Rescue groups go deep into the shelter to look for dogs to save. The back rooms at the shelter are sometimes loud with barking, and sometimes eerily quiet. There are all kinds of dogs at the shelter–pure bred and mutt, small and large, old and young, stray and owner-surrendered. Strays are held for a minimum of 3-5 days in case someone comes looking for them. Because no one is going to come for owner surrenders, they may be euthanized immediately if space is needed. 2013.
Some dogs cower in their cages–terrified, trembling, heartbroken and confused, and maybe shattered forever. These dogs seem to not want anyone to look at them, to see them, matted and dirty. They will not look up and shrink into the corners. 2013.
“Are you ok?”, Judy asks. Judging from his scars, he may have been used in dog fights. Judy walks through the pavilions asking this again and again. Sometimes it is a question. “Are you ok?” Sometimes it was a statement, willing them to be ok when options looked bleak. Even if she spent only a second with each soul–that little moment, a smile, a kind voice…It means everything…to the dogs…and to Judy. This dog, we later learned, did not make it out. He was euthanized to make room for the steady stream of unwanted dogs. 2013.
During the summer of 2015, Canine Influenza ripped through Chicago’s Animal Care and Control. Dogs were categorized by the severity and stage of their illness, and rescuers’ visits to the various pavilions were sequenced from healthiest to sickliest so that the healthy dogs stayed healthy by being visited first. Disposable yellow gowns and rubber gloves were required, and had to be changed between pavilions to lessen the spread of the virus. The shelter had an added layer of sadness–to see the dogs shivering in their kennels, too tired and sick to move, to hear the hacking coughs in the sickest pavilions, to know that most of these dogs were not going to make it out alive. Rescuers continued to do what they could to pull dogs and find fosters who could accommodate dogs who had been exposed to the virus. Rescues had to be isolated for two weeks or more to avoid spreading the virus. 2015.
Dogs are introduced to other dogs of different sizes, personalities and gender to see how they react. Rescuers hold their breath–hoping for tail wags and play postures. If the dog acts aggressively, he will go back in the cage, with a slim chance of ever making it out of the shelter alive. 2015.
After a full day of work, Kelly stops by the Chicago shelter to check in on potential rescues. She leads a Pit Bull out into the yard for a little fresh night air, some exercise and a temperament test. It is estimated that 30-35% of the dogs euthanized are Pit Bulls. Unchecked breeding and the vilification of the breed has led to shelters overflowing with these powerful yet often untrained and frequently abused dogs. 2013.
At CACC on a Sunday night, we came across these 3 bonded girls. The white one on the left was the designated watch dog…protecting her siblings by positioning herself in front of them, or over them, and snarling like a fierce dragon. The other two seemed to want to say “hi”…but big sister wasn’t having it. As we left the shelter that night, these 3 were getting rescued. The white one had given up being the strong one…and leapt into the arms of the rescuer. Surprisingly, chihuahuas are one of the breeds most often dumped at the shelter. 2015.
Kelly takes Betty Page back into the shelter after a brief and brisk winter day walk around the grounds. Construction had begun to update kennels in the Chicago Animal Care and Control facility. The new kennels are larger and the pavilions have more natural light. However, during construction, there are fewer open kennels for homeless dogs. 2015.
“Peep” came into the shelter with one eye dangling. Judy and Kelly committed to her rescue immediately and her eye was removed in emergency surgery. The next day, her painfully matted hair was shaved. A few weeks later, Peep lost her other eye to infection. When she healed, Peep was adopted. She is now living happily ever after with a family who adores her. 2014.
Kelly stands in the hall at Chicago Animal Care and Control. She is making final arrangements for foster homes for these two lucky dogs who will walk out of the shelter tonight with her. The Pekingnese will go to a breed-specific rescue group. The dignified little dog standing was grossly underweight and had been shaved to treat his dry skin and matted hair. He had been surrendered by his owner in very poor condition. Four months later, he is still getting healthy in a foster home. 2015.
Betty Page peers out of Judy’s car. She had just been rescued from the shelter by Kelly, and is keeping an eye on her savior. Kelly and Judy are both texting to see who has space for Betty Page tonight. If no one does, Judy will take her home for the night. Judy and Kelly pull 2-4 dogs a week from the Chicago shelter. They meet in parking lots near animal hospitals or pet stores to coordinate and move the dogs to available foster homes. 2015.
Hilde left the shelter with just a generic standard issue rope cord. First stop was a pet store to get her very own collar and leash, toy and treats and a stash of food. Rescues do everything to get a dog into a good foster home. They want and need successful and repeat fosters. Fostering gives a dog a chance to get healthy, get socialized, and learn house rules. Fosters and rescues pay close attention to dogs’ personalities and needs so that potential adopters enter into the arrangement with no surprises. 2015.
Otis is a pet shop boy. Ruby is a rescue and is a little mentally askew. Some rescue groups take only the healthiest and youngest animals from the shelters to control costs and to prevent having unadoptable dogs. Other rescue groups take the dogs that speak to their hearts and may specialize in a certain breed, or the seniors, or the physically handicapped. 2013.
Rescuers have an intense, all encompassing love of dogs. Their homes are often full to the brim of wagging tails, clicking toenails, water dishes and crates. 2013.
Dog rescuers collect crates…from donations, yard sales, pet supply store sales, etc. The crates are bleached and readied for trips to the shelter or weekend transports. 2015.
Kelly takes one dog out for a run in her backyard while she checks emails, texts and social media posts for rescue-related information. Rescue is a daily, hourly, constant occupation for rescuers. Everything is about the dogs, for the dogs. 2015.
Every weekend, dog rescue teams move dogs across the country in a series of one to two hour relays. Why transport the dogs? Some areas of the country don’t have as many unwanted dogs and so the dogs pulled out of Chicago’s shelters have a better chance of being adopted elsewhere. Sometimes dogs are going to a breed-specific rescue in another state. Dogs travel with their paperwork and specific instructions for feeding and caring for them on what may be 2 to 3 days of 12 hour drives in a series of cars. Transporters have prearranged meeting places to switch the dogs from one car to another, and walk and feed/water them before getting on the road for the next leg. For transporters, it’s a time to meet one another and enjoy the 3-10 dogs they transport. For the dogs, it’s life saving. 2013.
There are strict rules during transport to ensure the health of the dogs. Puppies are often “no paws on the ground” if there is any chance of parvo. Dogs just out of the shelter can have many problems including worms or stomach/bowel issues due to stress and change of diet. Rescuers, transporters and fosters are diligent in monitoring the samples in order to treat any sickness. 2013.
Rescuers often have a lot of dogs in their homes. Some are theirs, some are fosters, some are only passing through for a night or two. There are rooms designated to isolate new guests who may be sick or scared. There are crates and cages for private time. And everything needs to be cleaned between occupants. 2013.
Judy and Kelly look at a place on a rescued bulldog mix. Although they both work in marketing, Judy and Kelly have enough experience with rescue that they can quickly identify health issues and can better work with the vet clinics who donate time and treatments. 2013.
Two groups made a 160 mile road trip to meet in the middle of Indiana. Traci and her friend/friend’s son came from Ohio with a couple of old boxers who had been rescued by Judy and Kelly the year before. Mr Belvedere had been frail and malnourished when he was pulled from the shelter. After almost 2 years in his hospice foster home, he is pleasingly plump and happy. Though he had not seen Judy and Kelly since his rescue, he recognized and greeted them with zeal at the meeting place in the empty parking lot. He will live out his life with his foster. 2015.
Avery entered the shelter as a cruelty case, with all of her legs broken and toes crushed. While Avery’s casts were on, Judy carried her outside several times a day and made sure her movements were restricted so that her young bones could heal. Sadly, almost 3 years later, Avery is still available for adoption. http://www.adoptapet.com/pet/11244516-brooklyn-new-york-american-pit-bull-terrier-mix
“Peep” came into the shelter with one eye dangling. Judy and Kelly committed to her rescue immediately and her eye was removed in emergency surgery. A few weeks later, Peep lost her other eye to infection. She was adopted and lives happily ever after with a family who adores her. 2014.
Atticus kisses Judy. He once was a rescue. Now, Judy belongs to him. She adopted him and he graciously shares his home with a stream of fosters. 2013.
As many of you know, I’m a dog lover and have an on-going project documenting the work of people who rescue dogs. And I love Cuba. I love walking in Havana, photographing the elegant decay and witnessing the extraordinary changes happening there. I love meeting the people, getting to know their hopes and worries, and always admiring their persistence, creativity and resourcefulness. So this month, I decided to overlay these passions and dig a little deeper into the stories of the rescued dogs of Havana, Cuba and those sheltered by museums.
Dogs in Cuba
Street dogs are commonly seen in Havana, picking through the trash or teetering down the sidewalks. It is heartbreaking and frustrating. But in a country where food can be hard to come by for people, perhaps it is not unusual or unexpected. One thing that has surprised me is that many museums in Old Havana have taken on the role of sheltering dogs.
On my first trip to Cuba I saw a fat little dog wearing a business card and sleeping near Fototeca in Plaza Vieja. On subsequent trips, I saw more of these dogs with business cards. They were in front of other museums, Havana’s University, and wandering around the old plazas. These dogs generally looked healthier and happier. So, on this trip, I went looking for these card-carrying dogs to find out more about their lives and the people who care for them.
Dogs under the care of Cuba’s museums wear cards identifying them. The cards have the dog’s name, where he/she lives and that he/she has been sterilized. These cards are intended to protect the dogs from being picked up by Havana’s dog-catchers.
The Dogs of Museo de la Orfebrería
These are the five dogs of Museo de la Orfebrería (Museum of Metal/Silver Work), a quiet courtyard museum on Obispo near Plaza de Armas. They are cared for by Margarita Garcia and Odalys Valdéz, who work at the museum as guides and security. The dogs spend their days napping in the shade of the courtyard, or lazing on the sunny bricks in front of the museum. During the day, they greet visitors politely–without fanfare or dogged attention. And they keep Margarita and Odalys company during their 6 day shifts working 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. In return, Margarita and Odalys feed them and keep fresh water on hand. The dogs are sheltered in the museum– partially in the role of protecting the museum from thieves–but most definitely to save the dogs from a hard street life.
“These five? Good for them.”
After noticing a few strays outside who seemed to pace by regularly–as if looking in…one more time…for an opening, for an invitation, I asked Margarita if there were ever more than five here. “No. Only five. We cannot feed or have more. But these five? Good for them.”
I think they would agree. And good for Margarita and Odalys and all the guides who care for these precious souls.
Margarita Garcia stands at the entrance to Havana’s Museo de la Orfebrería, where she works and cares for the museum’s five rescued dogs.Odalys and Margarita stand in the doorway of the Museum while dogs sleep in the background.The five dogs have full access to the museum’s courtyard.In a back room of the museum, Margarita prepares a meal of rice and a few bites of chicken for the dogs.Margarita sets out a meal of rice and a little chicken for the dogs in the courtyard of the museum.Canelito enjoys cat-napping in the courtyard.Vladimir’s favorite place is at the door, greeting the many tourists walking past on Obispo near Plaza de Armas.
Guide Odalys enjoys passing the hours with the dogs.
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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, tree-hugging, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com. Select Cuba photos are available for purchase on Etsy.
Ever wonder what happens with the dogs saved by rescue groups? Transporting rescue dogs gives many a better chance of adoption or foster in a new state. Almost every weekend, hundreds of rescuers move these precious souls miles in 1-2 hour bits of travel. It’s an incredible network, and a feat of organization and determination, and sheer love for the dogs.
Last Saturday, I rode on a dog transport with Judy, picking up 10 dogs in Merrillville, Indiana and driving them to Itasca, Illinois. This was just one leg of their 8-9 hour journey from Indianapolis to Minneapolis.
I arrived at Judy’s just after 7 a.m. as she was configuring the van with her crates and cages. Like a Tetris puzzle, she arranged the crates to maximize the space and to make sure there would be enough separation for the parvo survivors we would soon meet. There was a smell of fresh laundry–bleach maybe–from the clean padding, beds, and towels lining the cages. Some towels were strategically placed on top of the cages under the air vents, so no dog would get blasted with the AC. Behind the driver’s seat was a bag of slip-leads and collars, some towels, baggies, water dishes and water.
We had a list of the passengers to expect…
1. Shelby – Poodle-x, 9y F(S), 30 lb.
2. Goofy – Pomeranian, M(N), 5 lb.
3. Maltese – F, 8 lb.
4. Juno – Terrier, F(S), 30 lb.
5. BeaglePup – 10 weeks
6. Lil Bit & Skittles – APBT puppies, 8 lbs. each
7. Frenchie – 10 weeks
8. Dexter – 4 months
9. Puppy – 8 weeks. WILL TRAVEL IN OWN CRATE
The list also told us the that these dogs were traveling with health certificates, collars and that all were up-to-date on shots. There was an updated e:mail with more specifics on the meeting places for each of the 7 legs of the journey and who would be receiving the dogs upon arrival in Minneapolis. We pulled out of Judy’s driveway around 7:20 a.m. with the crates, the list and the sunshine, headed to meeting place #1 in Merrillville, Indiana.
We arrived a little early to the parking lot where we’d make the transfer from one car to another. A text let us know that Tara and Gwen were 10 minutes away, coming in 2 cars from Indianapolis. While we waited, Judy reminded me to be careful not to touch another dog after touching a parvo-survivor puppy. The parvo-surviving pups would also have to take their potty breaks in a different place.
And then, they arrived! Two cars pulled up, on either side of Judy’s van. Introductions, hugs and brief chatter as we jumped out to make ready for the transfer. I think I laughed and cried at the same time as Gwen’s hatchback opened to reveal a carload full of dogs looking back at me. The next 30 minutes was a whirlwind…get the dogs out, walked, watered and then situated in Judy’s crates and car.
Puppies! These pooches have just completed the first leg of their 8 hour journey. Lil Bit and Skittles (on the left) have survived parvo.The belongings of a Pomeranian named Goofy. Goofy’s person passed away 2 days prior. Life shattering change, hopefully eased a little by traveling with familiar things.Switching crates/cages and cars. Everybody gets a walk and some water.Handsome 🙂 All dogs have a tag with their info. Calling them by name earns you a tail wag and if you’re lucky a little kiss.Shelby/Peaches and Frenchie getting situated in the next car. Waiting for the other dogs to finish their walks.Patience. Last one to be unloaded.Jema is a parvo survivor. I got the honor of riding shotgun with this puppy in my lap…but Judy gets a hug first.
After all the walks, after all the crate moves, Judy and I got back in the car with our passengers. Lucky, lucky me–I got to ride with Jema in my lap! This little girl was recently spayed, and a parvo-survivor. She tried so hard not to sleep…she wagged her tail and smiled at Judy, at me, at the dogs in the back, at the scenery out the window and for a few minutes chewed on my hair. And those of you who know me, know that I was in heaven holding this little happy and curious girl with her sweet puppy smell. Everyone settled in. Some stared out the window–and I wondered what they were thinking, their lives so changed. Some slept peacefully, despite the one who cried and voiced her opinion about a few things.
On the road. Some are too excited to sleep and stare out the window.
We arrived in Itasca to meet the next 2 cars who would take these babies on to Rockford, Illinois. Once again, walks, water and a transfer of crates and cars.
Stop #2. Getting situated in another crate, another car for the 3rd leg of the journey.Judy puts Goofy into Nancy’s car. Shelby/Peaches will be riding shotgun on this leg of the trip.
It was only in the last few minutes that I realized how bittersweet transporting days were, as we petted and hugged these lucky dogs one last time. Saying our goodbyes, and wishing them safety on today’s journey and much love and happiness for the rest of their lives.
Transporting rescue dogs, from August 3, 2013.
Want to know more? Check out these websites for dog transports–and donate, volunteer, foster or adopt–anything and everything helps:
By the way, I had planned to write a little more about Avery, the beautiful pup who had 17 broken bones. Shortly after I met her, she had her last two casts removed. I plan to see her again soon and get some additional photographs and details. So, more to come. Thanks for your patience!
Atticus is simply not in the mood to play with the girls. All 3 are rescued dogs & are adjusting to normal lives.
I spent a perfect July day with three dog rescuers and twelve happy rescued dogs. Yes, 12. It can be a little tricky at first when three packs come together…there’s a lot of hustle and bustle, tails and toenails moving in all directions, sniffing and more sniffing, and sometimes some curling lips and a little flash of teeth. But with the exception of Fancy Pants–an alpha female who could just not handle having another little lady in her house–the 12 came together for a grand Sunday afternoon.
It’s remarkable, really. These rescued dogs have been through untold trauma. Stuff that we can never know or fully grasp. They’ve been abandoned, neglected, abused, starved…the list of horrors is unending. Their trust in humans has been breeched, and their hearts–and sometimes bones–broken. Their experiences sometimes leave them with extra quirks–foibles, peccadillos. It takes a special person to reach through all that and to give these broken dogs the unconditional love, care and dignity that brings them back. They need restoration, some normalcy in their lives so that they can be considered for adoption.
The rescue people watch the dogs carefully, learn quickly…and accommodate these newly lucky dogs better than any restaurant or hotel I’ve ever seen. They know who needs a little extra space, who needs to eat alone, who is afraid of slick floors or won’t go down stairs, who wants the pool filled, who appreciates a rug in the sun, who likes to chase and who likes to be chased, who needs which pill when, who likes ice cubes, who’s not feeling well, and who may need just a little extra cuddle today.
I think the dogs know how lucky they are to have been pulled out of hell and into the orbit of these compassionate people. The dogs grow healthy, confident and hopefully forget all the bad things that happened before their rescue, before their foster, before their forever homes. And while they may never lose those little quirks, they do learn to love again.
Bribery still won’t get Rook down the stairsDespite a billiard-ball-sized cancerous tumor hanging from his stomach, Edward plays soccer with his beloved green ball. Moments later he fell to the ground in a seizure. After 5 minutes, he recovered and went looking for the ball.Pet shop boy Otis– and Ruby, the slightly askew rescue
Solstice is frightened by the remains of a birdHiccup was feeling a little anti-social after her surgery and stayed on the back of the couch most of the dayShakira needed eye surgery and got purple stitchesAnders the misunderstood. Sometimes he needs to be ignored until he calms down
Solstice (who is deaf & is learning sign language) looks up to Atticus (who has a bad eye)Fancy Pants is introduced to Avery, the new foster healing from 17 broken bones. More about Avery in my next post this week.
The quirks and foibles of rescued dogs. From July 28, 2013 visit.
