Barney Beagle

Barney- Beagle 1998-2013

As far as I am concerned, Barney was the finest damn beagle who ever lived. I fell hard for him when we met in 2004, and have long contended he is the reason I agreed to move to Herndon- I wanted to live with Barney! But Barney’s story began long before I met him, back when everything was different and so much was yet to happen. Barney had the privilege of being Pam McAlwee’s dog, for which I am certain he was eternally grateful, and the story of their journey together is a story worth telling.


In a way, it all started with Barney. He wasn’t Pam’s first rescue dog, but he was the first one she had to fight for, and the first one who needed a whole lot more than a new home.

Barney was brought into a rural shelter after being hit by a car. When Pam first laid eyes on him, he was lying on the concrete floor of a shelter kennel with broken legs, lacerations and in severe pain. When she asked why he hadn’t seen a vet, they told her there no funds for vet care in the budget. He also wouldn't 't be euthanized to put him out of his misery. Barney would have to wait 5 days- the county holding period for stray dogs wearing a collar when brought in.

Five days. No pain meds, no antibiotics, no relief.

Pam was in her early days as an animal rescuer and Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation was not yet incorporated as a 501c3. She had no resources other than her personal credit card and a passion for animals. None of that mattered when she looked at Barney, a brown-eyed beagle/basset with long ears, a big chest and short, broken legs.

It may have been in that moment that Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation found its soul. What happened next with Barney illustrates better than any explanation I could give what lies at the center of an organization that has grown thousands strong in its twelve years of existence.

Pam offered to take Barney to the vet, but was told she couldn’t- against regulations. He would just have to wait until his owners came to claim him, or his stray hold ended in five days when he would be euthanized.

That wasn’t an unacceptable answer.

And so she bundled Barney up and walked him right out of the front door, promising on the way out to surrender him if his owners ever appeared to claim him. Her helper for the day, another fierce animal advocate named Virginia Kincheloe, held the door for her and told the shelter staff to go ahead and call the sheriff’s department if they felt it necessary, and to direct them to the closest vet’s office because that’s where Barney would be.

To complicate matters, Pam was due on a flight leaving in just a few hours and would be gone several days- another obstacle that might stop most of us in our tracks, or cause us to say, “I would if I could, but I can’t.” If you ask Pam, however, “Can’t” is also an unacceptable answer. She left Barney with the vet, gave them her credit card number, told them to give him whatever he needed, and to expect her back in four days.

As it turned out, Barney needed a lot- including amputation of one back leg and surgery on the other, in addition to many weeks of strict cage rest to allow his broken pelvis to heal. During all of that healing, Barney settled in at Pam’s house (or more accurately in the yard he loved) and became a permanent resident.

That was 1999 and Barney went on become manager of security, champion deer-spotter and an

This was Barney's standard greeting.

accomplished escape artist. For the most part, everyone forgot he was missing a leg and Barney never let it slow him down. He was just a beagle with a keen nose, long ears prone to gunk, and a deep, impressive bay that never failed to inspire the household (human and canine) to join in.

For almost 13 years his only vet visits were routine, but in the fall of 2011, Barney opened his mouth to howl and we noticed something that didn’t look right. It turned out to be oral melanoma- cancer. The tumor was removed and Barney visited the oncologist for melanoma vaccines. Research promised the injections would give him an extra year to lie under cars in the driveway, paw at us for belly rubs and hold his white-tipped tail high.

We got almost 2 years, and during that time Barney learned to wag his tail when he heard the word, “cancer.” It usually went something like this: “Barney, you’ve got cancer, you can have my pizza crust,” or “Give that beagle an extra carrot, he has cancer.” Thump. Thump. Thump.

In the last few months we watched him fade- choosing more and more to remain on the porch, and spending most of his time sleeping. The day he lost interest in carrots, was a particularly sad one and the giant Costco bag of carrots still sits in the fridge because nobody yet has the heart to give them to the other dogs. Sorry guys, give us a minute to grieve.

In spite of his fading, Barney was content and calm until his very last day. He wagged his tail, searched out the best dog beds and ate canned food with some measure of excitement. Even on the last day, he didn’t skip a meal. He was, after all, a beagle.

The moment we were dreading came suddenly, and was not one ounce less painful than we anticipated, but it was over quickly. After a day of uncharacteristically nervous behavior, Barney began to have a series of grand mal seizures and it was abundantly clear that it was time to let him go.

And so he is gone, and with him a piece of our hearts and a chunk of LDCRF history. It has taken me a week to write this and it will take a lot longer for me to stop expecting him to greet me by flopping onto his back at my feet when I come home, or to stop listening for his unique, 3-legged clickety-clack of toenails on the bedroom floor at night.

We won’t forget Barney and neither will the organization he helped to find its soul. Barney will live on in every lost or broken dog or cat who finds its way to a new life through Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation, inspiring us always to do more and do it better.

Thank you, Barney, for making us all better people, for showing us what we can do, and for bringing me here. It has worked out pretty well.

COWBOY'S LONG, LONG TRAIL RIDE

You get these emails when you are a "rescue person." They have varying subjects, but generally boil down to "Save this dog or it dies" and they are always accompanied by these heart-wrenching photos. That's Cowboy's story, in a nutshell, of how he came to be with Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation (LDCRF).

Pam McAlwee, founder of LDCRF, had just lost a beloved dog, one she rescued as a senior who was a pitiful case from the start. She was feeling a little down and when the email from a crowded shelter landed in her inbox, it squeezed her heart.

"I just wanted to save every pitiful, broke-down dog they had," she says.

And so it was that Cowboy and a few friends made their way into the hands of the Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation. It was a motley crew, to be sure. Many were missing hair from mange, several were heart worm positive, most were very thin. Cowboy actually looked pretty good in comparison to some of the others, but that was soon to change.

Within a few days of his arrival, Cowboy became ill. He had signs of a typical upper respiratory infection, but just couldn't shake it. He stopped eating, he lost weight, he didn't respond to medication. But he kept wagging his tail.

We soon learned that Cowboy had canine distemper, a horrible disease that can be prevented with an inexpensive vaccine. Unfortunately for Cowboy and many dogs in very rural areas, vaccines are rare and their vulnerability is high.

Distemper is bad news, and a common response to the diagnosis is to euthanize the dog in question. Survival is iffy at best, treatment is lengthy and expensive, and managing the contagion factor is difficult.

But then there were those eyes. Cowboy has the most soulful, expressive eyes you will ever find in a dog. And they were full of light and hope even in his darkest days. He clearly wanted to live and had something to offer the world. We wanted to give him the chance.

Thanks to the Pepsi, Griffen, Sprite Legacy Gift (a special fund established to help dogs who need extra medical care) we were able to commit to Cowboy and provide him with months of supportive care and medications. He spent a lot of time in isolation at Blue Ridge Veterinary Associates where he got amazing medical treatment and all of the moral support (and cheese) he needed to survive.

There were dark days, to be sure. At one point, just as he seemed to be heading for health, he lost all of his hair and we weren't sure it would grow back. On other days, he had no energy and no appetite. But  every day- every single one- he had light in his eyes and a wag in his tail. He never gave up, and neither did Lost Dog Rescue.

Today, Cowboy is the picture of health. He has a beautiful coat of fluffy blond hair and will take on any dog in a game of tug-of-war. He loves everyone he meets and is excited about any adventure that comes his way. He makes a slight jerking motion with his front leg when tired- a side effect of the disease- but it never slows him down or gets in his way.

Cowboy is a contender and now he is in contention for the top prize in Best in Shelter. A vote for Cowboy is a vote for all the hopeless and homeless dogs languishing in overfull shelters. Cowboy would like to be the face of what they can become. Please help.

Cowboy is a contender in the Best in Shelter Competition. If he gets the most votes,  he wins $50,000 for Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation- money that will be used to help other dogs like him get a second chance. 

From Life on a Chain to a Wedding on the Beach

Hagrid with his human sisters and new wife. 

He was the most unlikely of candidates for a bridegroom. Big, hairy and in need of some manners, Hagrid (aka Angelo) didn't seem like he was going to be going anywhere near the high life and nuptials ("puptials") on the beach were certainly not in the cards.

In fact, the only life Hagrid knew until last year, was life on the end of a chain.

Hagrid would be there still, but for the kindness of a young woman named Angel.

Angel lived in Hagrid's neighborhood in West Virginia and her heart broke at the sight of him on the end of that chain, wagging his tail at the sight of any human, constantly filthy, painfully matted and always lonely. Angel moved away, but she didn't forget Hagrid, not at all.

Last year, on her birthday, Angel decided to give herself a birthday present. She drove to Hagrid's home where he was still chained up in the yard, and she knocked on the door. She told the people who answered that it was her birthday and what she really, really wanted as a present was their dog. Could she please have him? They said yes.

So the big, smelly boy was loaded in Angel's car and she drove her birthday present directly to the vet. He got his vaccines, a much-needed and super painstaking shave-down, and the all-important neuter surgery. She called him "puppy" because the previous owners had never given him a name.

"Puppy" now needed a place to go. Angel did not live in a home where he could stay for long, and so she needed some help. She came to Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation and her story so touched my heart that I had to say yes. I mean, who could say no to the woman who freed a dog from a chain as a birthday present to herself? He was big and I was worried about the personality traits of a dog who had never been unchained, but I thought it was worth the risk. And it was.

When "Puppy" came to Lost Dog we named him Angelo in tribute to his rescuer, but as it turns out, he wasn't Angelo for long.

Puppy aka Angelo got scooped up within a couple of weeks of coming to Lost Dog and began a brand new life with a loving family as Hagrid.

And part of his brand new life included a trip to the beach where he was officially married to the resident canine of his new household, Sasha, in a lovely ceremony on the beach. That's right, Hagrid, formerly chained up 24 hours a day, seven days a week with no vet care or human attention, was married this summer on the beach. His human Mom officiated and his human sisters were in attendance complete with beautiful dresses and Leis.

And there was cake.

People Power

If you have anything to do with animal rescue, chances are better than good that you have said it at least once along the way and it is a certainty that you have heard it more than once.

"I hate people."

It's a common phrase and one that hardly raises an eyebrow.  It's an understandable sentiment. When your email inbox is full of variations on the theme, "We don't want our old/sick/ inconvenient/ expensive pet anymore," it's hard to maintain a positive outlook on the human race. When you see animals suffering because humans neglected or abused them or were simply irresponsible, hate for the human race wells up easily.

But there's a problem with that attitude, a big one. If we want to help animals we NEED the people. We need volunteers, fosters, adopters,  and donors. We need to welcome the people with open arms and sometimes issue a second chance or two. And guess what? There are some AMAZING people out there.

This weekend, Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation adopted out 59 dogs and cats, placed 24 puppies into foster homes and staffed 8 adoption events with  100 + eager volunteers. That's people power!

Colin, Nancy and Sassafras.

On Saturday at our Fairlakes event, a little dog named Sassafras slipped her collar. An army of volunteers and bystanders took off to catch her and she was finally rescued by Colin, a high school senior who has volunteered with us every weekend since he was 12. Nancy, who gives every Friday night and Saturday afternoon to the dogs, injured her ankle and her knee in the chase, yet continued to conduct adoption interviews with an icepack on her ankle. Two strangers offered rides to volunteers who were chasing Sassafras and the manager of Jason's Deli went the extra mile to make sure Nancy was okay. People Power.

At the Alexandria event on Sunday, there was a bomb scare in the parking lot complete with bomb sniffing dogs and heavy machinery. The volunteers kept on working and adopted out 8 dogs. People Power.


Perhaps most importantly, 59 families made the choice to adopt this weekend rather than purchase their new companion animal. That's 59 dogs and cats who were just recently on death row now on their way to becoming beloved family members because people made the right choice. People Power.


So, I'm starting this week filled with gratitude for the amazing efforts of some amazing people, and I'm gonna end it that way too. This people power is a repeat performance and next weekend, although I hope it's free of runaway dogs and bomb scares, I am sure I will be wowed again by what an army of volunteers can and will do.

A happy adopter who took a chance on an older dog.

A Big Gulp of Puppies

Their combined weight is just over 32 ounces. That's the size of a big Gulp and not even one of the new "super sized" ones, just a plain old-fashioned Big Gulp. All seven of them could probably fit easily into one of those waxy Big Gulp cups as well, with their tiny little feet tucked into their bodies and miniature tails wrapped around their back ends like a ribbon on a present.

Paws down, at an average of just 4.5 ounces each, these are the tiniest puppies I have ever seen and I have seen a lot of puppies. I just can't stop staring at them and watching their itty bitty chests rise and fall with each breath and their tiny little mouths go about the business of nursing. I can't quite fathom the perfect functionality of such miniscule creatures, but despite my incredulity, all seems to be as it should, only smaller.

Frankly, I'm also still reeling from the surprise. Based on x-rays of their Mom and information passed along by the owners who surrendered her, we were not expecting puppies until about 10 days from now. We were not, in fact, expecting puppies until after our vacation, which begins tomorrow.

It's a SNAFU alright, and having a Big Gulp's worth of puppies born in my bathroom today definitely did not aid in trip preparations. I didn't get my pedicure and I'm not sure what all I actually packed, but, of course that stuff doesn't matter much when you take a look at a healthy momma dog and 7 tiny fighters.

I'm looking forward to my vacation, but I also can't wait to get home in a week and see if the puppies got "SuperSized" while I was gone. If all goes well, they just might each be the equivalent of a grande cappucino by then!

Running with Dogs??

Whitney and her foster dog did a great job!

Okay, now that last night is over, I'll admit it. I was worried sick about Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation's first ever race series. I mean, it seemed like a great idea this winter when I met with the fine folks at Pacers about co-hosting a 5k race series at a park in Arlington. What a great idea! 250 people, half of them with dogs running alongside? Great! Providing shelter dogs for strangers to borrow for the run? Why not? Pulling this off with a team of volunteers at the same time as a weekly adoption event for which I am the primary support? No problem!

But, then, suddenly, it was August and the details began to weigh heavily on my mind. What if we don't get enough volunteers? How am I going to get dogs to both the event and the races?  Who is going to make sure the adoption event runs smoothly? What if our "Rent-a-Mutt" dogs misbehave, trip their runners or attack somebody's dog? What if, what if, what if!

I needn't have worried and I should have known. The Pacers crew is AMAZING and could probably organize a takeover of a foreign country without much trouble, and the Lost Dog volunteers? Equally amazing, of course. The runners themselves were an incredibly friendly group and very supportive of our rescue efforts. Even the dogs (chosen with so much angst for this special duty) outdid themselves. Although one flat out refused the opportunity to run, and one chose to meander down the trail, they were all super well-behaved and were perfect rescue ambassadors.

Nathan was the first "Rent a Mutt" to cross the finish line.

Our "Rent-a-Mutt" program was so popular that the line for them formed the minute they appeared and they were all assigned to runners within 15 minutes.  I felt like instead of 9 homeless and formerly hopeless dogs needing homes, I was handing out tickets to the hottest concert of the summer! It was a wonderful experience to see these dogs be superstars for a night.

Pullman and his runner friend.

I think the moment I finally relaxed was when I saw Pullman, formerly a stray living by a railroad track in WV, trotting so proudly down the trail, head and tail high, absorbing the crowd's adoration as if he were a Westminster champion.

One race down, three to go and I am no longer worried sick. In fact, I am busy composing the list for next week's Rent-A-Mutt program and trying to figure out how to bring more dogs to be champions for a night. :-)

A Miracle and a Faceplant

Two interesting things happened to me today and they both involved a little orange pomeranian named Molly. 

Molly arrived with a group of dogs from a rural shelter a couple of weeks ago. She's a tiny orange thing with perfect fluffy triangles for ears and great big expressive eyes that are hard to ignore. Molly also has congestive heart failure (big deal) and a thryoid condition (not so big a deal.) Her time will be limited due to the heart failure, but her interest in living and exploring has shown no signs of flagging. 

Last week, Molly sustained a back injury that left her paralyzed in her back end. She just suddenly couldn't walk. Three times we visited the vet and three times I came close to putting her down. Three times, however, I saw in her eyes she was not ready to give up, so I decided to give her this week to get literally get back on her feet. On the advice of the vet, we have administered pain meds, done physical therapy and last night started swim therapy (more on that later.)

This afternoon I returned home and invited all of the dogs out into the yard with me. I  left the front door open so the shy, old and slow ones could meander out at their own pace and waited for everyone to conduct business. A few minutes into the action, something orange caught my eye. It was Molly. The dog who had not walked a step since Friday had walked out the front door, down the driveway and found a patch of grass upon which to relieve herself. I felt like I had seen a miracle, like the whole world should have burst into song, like balloons should be released from the heavens. I cheered, I jumped up and down and I told Molly she was one strong cookie. I truly had just about given up hope for Molly, but she hadn't given up at all. 

So, tonight, it was back into the jacuzzi tub for Molly's swim therapy. I bundled her into her life jacket, placed her in the tub and pulled her around by the handle on the vest encouraging her to move those back legs. She hated it just as much as she did the night before and paddled away from me. I reached to guide her back and that's when it happened. Both of my feet simultaneously slid out from under me on the wet floor. In rapid succession, my knees hit the tile, my ribcage crashed into the side of the tub and I executed a perfect faceplant into the tub full of water.  

It took me a moment to right myself and cough up the water I inhaled on the way down and figure out I was all in one piece. Then I did the only sensible thing a person can do in situations such as this-  lay on the bathroom floor and laugh. 

Luckily, Pam was right there to rescue poor Molly and to join me in hysterical laughter, but we are both really sorry there was no video camera involved to record my shining moment for posterity or at least for YouTube and some exposure for the rescue... 

All in all, it was a big day for me and Molly and even though my back is already telling me I will be paying for my little spill, I am still grinning from ear to ear at the sight of a little orange dog on four feet. 

Eight Lives to Live

They had about 15 hours left to live. Fat, fuzzy, smoosh-faced and adorable though they were, the fact remained that if they didn't have a rescue commitment by morning,  they would be euthanized along with their mother. 

We were in no position to help. Our foster homes are full, the Lost Dog Ranch is near capacity and we have previously-arranged transports coming in the next few days. We held our breath and hoped someone else would answer the plea. 

Of course they didn't.  Everyone is in the same position- too many dogs in need, too few resources. And of course we said yes. We wondered where in the world we were going to put them, how we would manage it, and whether anyone would help, but we said yes. We crossed our fingers and toes really hard and hoped against all hope that someone in the Lost Dog Volunteer family would come through and offer the family a place to stay.

Of course they did. At the 11th hour, with the transport van nearly at its destination and backup plans in formulation, someone came through. Thanks to the amazing power of volunteers who care, those 7 puppies and their mother are being off-loaded from a transport van as I type into the waiting arms of an experienced, loving foster family and a neighborhood of eager supporters. What's more, that happy scene is the culmination of efforts on the part of a rural shelter volunteer who didn't give up, another local rescue group (HART) who runs a weekly, lifesaving transport from this shelter, and the Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation. So many links in the chain to save such tiny lives. 

The story of these puppies is, sadly, not so unusual. They were surrendered by an owner to a shelter in a rural area. The un-spayed mother had an unwanted pregnancy and when the puppies started becoming mobile, the whole family was evicted. Being owner surrenders, they were first on the list for euthanasia for the vet's weekly rounds this morning.  

Because of the power of volunteers, however, this story has a different ending and this little family has a chance at life.  Although this dramatic need was created totally at the hands of negligent humans, it is hard not to feel a little bit better about the human race when you think of the big-hearted efforts of selfless humans combining to make a happy ending. 

This lucky momma dog will sleep well tonight. 

Both Sides of the Tracks

Is there anything more mysterious, romantic or soulful than a train track fading into the distance? Full of promise and possibility and a 1940's movie kind of sadness, railroads pique our curiosity, stir our emotions and take hold of our imaginations. Think sleeper car, rhythmic chugging noises and breathtaking views.

Or think broken down and abandoned trailers, miles of empty fields and dirty, desperate puppies looking for their next meal.

The abandoned trailer where the 7 dogs were living by the tracks. 

Unfortunately, it was a series of the latter images that butted their way into my life this week- nothing mysterious or romantic, just sadly desperate. 

The email went out to many rescue groups begging for help. A kindhearted animal lover in Boone County had discovered a group of dogs and puppies living as strays on the side of a local railroad track. She had begun feeding them, keeping them from starving while trying to figure out a permanent solution for their plight. The only shelter within miles would euthanize the dogs via gas chamber upon their arrival, so that was no option at all.

One of the meals that kept them alive. 

One day when she arrived to feed the group, one was missing. A person who lived nearby told the woman that this particular dog had been shot by a local preacher because she wandered into his yard. He told her none of the dogs were safe and that they needed to be removed as soon as possible. Fortunately, the girl with the bullet wound wandered out of the woods at that time and, while injured, appeared to be making it.

That's when LDCRF got the email and a desperate plea from a fellow rescuer whose group wasn't able to help. She would do anything to get them to safety, she said, including drive them herself.

So, that's how we all ended up in the parking lot of Blue Ridge Veterinary Associates on a hot Sunday afternoon. The dogs (seven in total) arrived in a crowded Honda Element, tired and wary and really confused by their eventful day.

LDCRF was able to help thanks to the generosity of the Pepsi Griffen & Sprite's Legacy Gift-a special fund designated for those dogs who need the most help and resources. Committing sight unseen to seven stray dogs is a risky proposition for a rescue. Who knows what medical calamaties may await and what expenses will mount? Who knows if the dogs will be ready for homes or need a long period of socializing first? Really, who knows what will happen and what it will cost? Having Pepsi, Griffen & Sprite's Legacy Gift meant that even though we had all of those questions in our minds, we could say YES in time to save these seven. So far, things are looking pretty good.  Pacifica, the victim of the gunshot is a lucky girl. There are no broken bones and antibiotics have infection under control. While she will live with some metal fragments in her leg, she is slated for a full recovery without surgery.

Though loaded with parasites and fleas, the other dogs are mostly free from any serious medical conditions. On lovely young girl, Panama, had a hard time during her spay surgery and almost didn't come back. Thanks to the quick action of the vet team, however, she was revived and continues to improve. She will need a couple of months of physical therapy which she is getting in a special foster home and then she should be able to find her forever family.

So these seven are safe and sound and extraordinarily lucky to have been the beneficiary of human kindness across two states.

But I will go to bed tonight thinking of the others out there... the ones whom humanity has abandoned and for whom no help has come. And if my life's journey places me in a railroad car, I'm pretty sure my nose will be pressed to the window in search of abandoned and helpless animals who need a miracle.

Manic Milk Monkeys

It's official. They are not puppies. They are instead Manic Milk Monkeys on a Mission. It's all about the milk and nothing but the milk. After more than two weeks of bottle feeding these orphaned pups, we have come to realize that we have created monsters. They can now see (eyes wide open!) and hear, and that means they are aware that the source of the milk has entered the room. And so they cry. And they run around on wobbly legs, and fall down and roll on the floor in the agony of anticipation. I close my eyes, and I can swear they are screaming "bottle, bottle, bottle!"

When one of us sits on the floor and pulls the first lucky puppy into a lap for his turn at the bottle, the others attack. They climb up pants legs and get stuck. They pull themselves into the human lap and try to dislodge the currently nursing puppy. They attempt to climb up the shirt of the human and push their noses into shirt sleeves.

The assault is relentless until each puppy has his or her turn at the milk bar and every belly is so full it appears dangerously close to popping. And then, finally, there is quiet. The only sound is the contented little grunts they make as  as they settle into their clean, dry blankets and sink deep into the land of milk coma.  And that's when they suck you back into believing they are adorable little helpless puppies, even though you know better. They are so cute and so sweet when sleeping that you buy into the puppy myth, even though you know for a fact that they are Manic Milk Monkeys on a Mission and the next outbreak is a mere 3 hours away.

Scrappy String Bean demonstrates the Milk Coma.

Full bellies and warm blankets equals sheer bliss.

Even in his sleep, he nurses an imaginary bottle.

Old Friends and Bottle Babies

Today began with the sad news of the passing of an LDCRF alum and really special former foster dog of ours named Ashby. She had a long life and was superbly lucky to be adopted into a tender and loving home at the age of 12. She had a beautiful soul and she will be missed.

So, my heart was heavy when I got "the call." An animal control officer in Spotsylvania County had just picked up eight puppies, so young their eyes were still closed and with no mother to feed them. My first thought was, "Oh no, not bottle babies! I don't have the time. The energy. The heart." My next thought was, "But who else can do it? What will happen to them if I don't help?"

The first bottle feeding for the puppies. 

So they are here. Of course they are here. I have the great privilege of having the flexibility, experience and support to tackle this project and to help these little ones on their journey, thus it is my responsibility to do so.

Funny thing is, as soon as I picked the first one up out of the cardboard box, it went from "should do" to "want to" in a flash. My heart lightened, my mood shifted and I felt grateful. There is so much to do to keep this rescue running- so many chores, emails, admin tasks, phone calls, vet appointments. It is easy to sometimes forget the simple joy of saving lives. Today, however, I got an awesome reminder of what's important in the form of eight little furry bodies looking for milk. I might forget a little in the sleep-deprived days to come, but I don't think so. Puppy breath awaits!

Puppies in a box at the shelter.

Godspeed to beautiful Ashby in her next life, and welcome to the world of safety little orphans! It has been quite a day.

The orphan puppies were discovered by a citizen last night in the Fredericksburg area and picked up today by animal control. Animal Control Officers continue to try and catch the mother, but they have been working on catching her for two years now with no luck. She is apparently quite smart, quite fast and quite strong.  They have known her to have several litters of puppies so far and the cycle will continue until she is caught and spayed. Fortunately, her newest babies are not out in the cold snow tonight. 

Nyla's Story

Shelter day is never very much fun. It consists of walking back in front of kennels full of desperate dogs, taking each and every one out for a walk, trying objectively to weigh each one’s adoptability and eventually making difficult choices about which dogs we can help.

The day I met Nyla, her bark was the very first thing that caught my attention when I walked through the kennel doors. It sounded ferocious. When I looked to see who was making that noise, I saw a 70 pound beast jumping and lunging at her kennel door.  I decided to steer clear and started my evaluations on the other side of the kennels.

Nyla never stopped barking, never eased up on the frontal assault to her kennel door. I wondered why she wasn’t housed back in the quarantine room. It seemed dangerous to have her in with all of the adoptable dogs. “No way this one is adoptable,” I thought.

I dismissed the notion of walking Nyla without a thought. I wrote a big “NO” next to her name on the list.

Eventually, I had to walk the dogs in the kennels surrounding her, however, and something shifted.  When Nyla saw me coming in her direction with the leash, she took a moment’s pause in her barking each and every time. Her eyes honed in on that leash like two lasers and for a millisecond she was quiet. When I passed, she resumed the attack dog routine and I shook my head.

But I began stopping for an extra few seconds each time. Just to see. Each time she stared so hard at that leash, I thought it might catch fire. And each time I walked away she resumed her threatening behavior. Except I started to see it differently. Maybe it wasn’t so threatening. Maybe it was more desperate than anything else. I looked at her kennel paper. She was an owner surrender and she had already been in the shelter more than a few weeks. Being an “owner surrender” means she might have been snatched up off of a comfy couch without warning and dropped unceremoniously here in a concrete kennel with no access to outside and no human contact apart from cleaning and feeding. Being an “owner surrender” means a housetrained dog is forced to soil his or her tiny living area on a daily basis because no one comes with a leash.

The leash. “She wants to go for a walk,” I thought. “She just wants out.” But the cautious part of my brain warned that it would be crazy to open the door and enter a small space with a very large, angry dog.  A very bad idea, indeed.

I did it anyway. I entered ever so cautiously, just an arm at first and then a leg, hand on the door at all times, never taking my eye off of the dangerous animal before me. I had no idea what Nyla would do and I kept thinking “this is crazy.”

The ferocious beast responded by sitting down and wagging her tail. I put the leash around her neck to make a no-slip collar and we walked out of the kennel together.

Well, truthfully, Nyla joyfully drug me the entire length of the hallway and burst through the doors like she was shot out of a cannon. Once outside, she tried to run in circles and go in every direction at once. I put her in an outdoor pen and she ran and ran and ran in the tiny space.

Clearly, Nyla’s “no” needed to bceome a “yes” and this girl needed out of the shelter! That was a no-brainer, but this tale wasn’t easily transformed into a happy ending,  Nyla was large. And loud. There was no space for her at the Lost dog Ranch and more kennel time was not going to do her any good anyway. She needed to get into a foster home where she could be reminded how to be a family dog and someone with a good eye could observe her and make sure there were no real aggression issues.

I knew who I wanted right away. Caitlyn was a relatively new foster, but one with tons of energy and an appreciation for big, energetic dogs. Her Duke is young and playful and appreciates rowdy playmates, so I figured if Nyla could get along with other dogs, this would be ideal. Texting and photo sharing began right there in the play yard at the shelter- Operation Nyla’s Freedom was underway!

Caitlyn came through and the rest is sort of history. Well, it is at least someone else’s tale of transformation. It took some time to get Nyla out of the shelter and into Caitlyn’s capable hands, but as I had suspected, Caitllyn loved Nyla on sight and Nyla loved every minute of her time with Caitlyn and Duke. It was unexpectedly short, however. Nyla was such a well-behaved and beautiful dog that she found her forever family in no time.

As of this writing, Christmas 2010, Nyla is back on the couch where she belongs, at the center of a loving family. I’m fairly positive they have never heard that ferocious bark and I pray that Nyla will never, ever again be so desperate that she has to communicate with such sound and fury.

Transformations

As we close out 2010, the theme Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation has chosen to highlight is Transformations. The awesome video put together by Collen Learch showcases the amazing transformation from homeless and hopeless to adopted and adored. If you haven't yet watched, now is a good time. Guaranteed to make you smile! Click here to view the video.

All of this talk of transformation has gotten me to thinking about the transformations I am privileged to observe on a daily basis. As a matter of fact, there is a pretty incredibly one unfolding right here in my office...

Sadie came to us skinny, terrified and dirty. Not that unusual, but she also had nine brand new puppies in tow. She was so scared, she had to be carried everywhere and when she was placed outside or on the floor, she just curled up in a ball. Sadie took really good care of her babies, but each and every one of them was claimed by canine herpes- a disease she probably contracted at the shelter and passed to them at birth. That meant that on top of being skinny, scared and in bad physical shape, Sadie was also flooded with hormones she couldn't release and grieving for her puppies.

Sadie stayed on a dog bed in the corner of my office closet for a long time. Each and every trip outside was an ordeal and as soon as she got back in she'd curl right back up into that ball. She wouldn't even eat for the longest time unless she was fed one hand full at a time and with no noise or distraction nearby. If we approached to pet her, she hid her face. 

Slowly, however, things changed. Sadie started wagging her tail the tiniest bit when I entered the room and then more and more enthusiastically. Next, Sadie started to creep out of her bed towards me when I had my back turned. Granted, she would run right back to safety if I looked at her, but it was a start!

Our biggest breakthrough came one day when I went outside with the other dogs and left the front door open. After standing in the yard a few minutes I looked up to see Sadie standing next to me!! I wanted to jump with joy, hug her tight and do a dance. Instead, I looked away and very quietly said, "gooood girl."

Since then, Sadie has made enormous strides. She licks my hands, she jumps on me when I have my back turned, she goes in and out of the house on her own to conduct potty business and she races down the driveway when I return. Most importantly, she is learning to play. As I type she and Freida the cattle dog (a whole other transformation story) are play bowing, play biting, and dancing around the office floor. The sound of their tapping nails is music to my ears.

Talia's Tale: Broken Heart in the Most Literal Sense

This might be the only photo that exists of Talia, the one we took for the website when things were brighter and we hoped to find her a loving home. If there are other photos, they would have been taken later and they wouldn't wouldn't show the bright-eyed Talia we would like to remember.

Talia was a teeny tiny beagle with great big eyes and a habit of crouching in terror when any human approached. If you used a soft voice, however, she would wag her tail while crouching and eventually put her chin in kind hands and crawl into a waiting lap. This is what we wanted for her future- kind words every day and a lap anytime she wanted it.

There really wasn't a future at all for Talia, however. She came to us in February and I bid her goodbye last night- a very short stay in the land of comfort and love.

When I started this blog, my intent was to share some success stories and a little bit of the joy that rescued animals bring to my daily existence. The heartbreak, I believe, is best left to other venues and is certainly not to be dwelt upon.

Talia, however, and the others like her, deserves her moment.

Unlike so many abandoned and neglected beagles, Talia got a golden opportunity. She got rescued. In one fell swoop, her bleak little life became one of possibility- a new home, a soft bed, plenty of food and companionship were all to be hers. She was totally poised to be the star of someone's life.

Except for the matter of her heart.

Talia came to us heartworm positive like so many rural dogs. Like we do for all the rest, we had her treated- an expensive and painful procedure. Unlike the others, however, Talia didn't recover very well. In fact, she began a serious decline with fainting spells and a belly that began to fill with fluid.

Talia visited a veterinary cardiologist (this for the beagle who had probably never visited a vet in her lifetime). Ultrasound tests gave us very bad news- the right side of Talia's heart was simply not working properly and was impressively enlarged. It was just not able to do its job and thus the fluid was backing up and dispersing in her abdomen. We began a regimen of medications, but nothing helped. The fluid was relentless and eventually interfered with her breathing, though not with her love of chicken nuggets and cheese burgers.

The part of this that sits with me beyond the sadness of losing such a sweet and innocent life is that it was 100% preventable. The massive damage to Talia's heart was due totally to the heartworm infestation. There was no congenital defect, no reason her heart should not have happily pumped for the next 8 years or so. Had Talia been given monthly heartworm preventatives or been treated promptly for the heartworm disease, I would be writing about how happy she was in her new home instead of writing her obituary.

And, so, I am mad. I am mad that Talia is gone, mad that humans don't take responsibility, mad that my best efforts and the resources of a wonderful organization were not enough. Talia won the doggie lottery only to have it taken away before she could cash the check, and that's just not right.

Talia, I know, fared better than many. She got a few months of the good life and her death was humane and peaceful. Soon, I will move my focus to being grateful I could provide these things for her and I will move on to help the next one. But for this little moment in time, well... this is Talia's moment.

Showering without Puppies.

Things have quieted down quite a lot in my bathroom. For the first time in over 3 months, I showered today without "benefit" of puppies.

Since the long night of birthing in October, my bathroom has been delivery room, nursery, infirmary, dispensary and playroom. The floor has long been buried under layers of newspaper and the counters have been cluttered with baby wipes, dewormer, puppy formula, bottles, and cans of puppy food. Mascara? No clue where that is, but here's a syringe for administering medications.

Lately, the toilet paper has usually been shredded and any clothing I left hanging partially out of the laundry basket has been dunked in the water bowl.

The shower, though, that's the thing. There's a whole extra step in the process called the "pre-shower poop patrol" because, well, nobody wants to step out of the shower and into unpleasantness.

Undressing for the shower is different too- lots of help with your pant legs and shoestrings. And while you are finally, blissfully indulging in hot water and soap? Well, pupies are very, very busy hiding your slippers in new spots and plotting ways to reach the clean towel and drag it across the floor.

Today, though, it was just a shower. In, scrub, out with no fan club applauding my reemergence from the steam. The puppies are all adopted into their forever homes and my bathroom is just a bathroom again- a clean one.

The shower was kind of boring.

Sled Dogs and Hairless Dogs

It's amazing what a span of just four days will bring in the world of animal rescue.

First, a last minute addition to an expected transport- five dogs seized from a breeder in Southwestern Virginia and facing certain euthanasia at the local shelter. Squeaker, Wilson, Walter, Ya Ya and Cookie arrived filthy, stinky, and matted but with tails wagging and noses on the hunt for treats. These five little guys were seriously in need of bathing and shaving, but otherwise in great shape. The necessary grooming took place the next day followed by the all-important vet visit for health checks, vaccines and spay/neuter.

Fast forward just a three days for a dramatically different rescue. This time it was four sled dogs rescued by the Humane Society of the United States and transported to Lost Dog and Cat Rescue Foundation for adoption placement. These gorgeous frosty-eyed beauties have lived life on a chain, but are surprisingly loving and eager to make new human friends. One arrived with a belly full of puppies and is luxuriating at Woofs! of Arlington while she awaits delivery, but the others are all ready for adoption and will be at events Thanksgiving weekend.

With Dasher, Donner, Comet and Vixen (sled dogs!) all sorted out we were ready to breathe a little and regroup. 

Wait! No time! 


Late Saturday we got a call that a nearby breeder was facing foreclosure and had quite a few small dogs in her care with no place to go. Could we help? The Lost Dog van was gassed and dispatched on Sunday morning and returned with eleven dogs- five Chinese Cresteds (four of them hairless!), three schnauzers and three poodles. Again, all were in need of a bathe and a shave, except the hairless ones who were able to get by with just the bath and some warm sweaters. The little guys are getting their vetting now and will be ready search for loving forever homes this Thanksgiving weekend. 

That's 20 dogs who have a whole to be thankful for this weekend- 20 in addition to the more than 13,000 dogs and cats LDCRF has rescued and placed since 2001. 

Evicted

His shelter paperwork included an eviction notice from the Sheriff's office. He was home alone when they came to remove the family's belongings and change the locks, and he too had to be removed. The notice gave his family five days to reclaim him. Five days from the moment their possessions were piled outside and their home became off-limits. Five days during which the family would have to find a place to sleep and figure out which, if any, of their possessions they would be able to keep. Five days to reconstruct a life and reclaim a family member. Five days passed and they didn't come.

His name was "Rock." He waited in a crowded shelter, one more family pet with a sad story to tell and a bleak feature. As a rotweiler, his future was more bleak than most. Many apartment buildings and condos ban his breed and many families are afraid to adopt them. He wagged his tail and pushed a ball around and greeted everyone politely, but the clock kept ticking and he kept waiting.

"Rock" got lucky when some LDCRF volunteers came to visit the old Prince Georges County Shelter on its last day of operation. We wanted to save some dogs who might not make the move and Rock went on our list.

We thought, given all that he had been through, that he deserved a higher title, so he is "Rockstar" now. And he is getting the star treatment. He is at the vet's office tonight preparing for neuter surgery tomorrow and a minor procedure to remove a growth on his eye. He has been bathed, his nails clipped and appropriate vaccines administered.

"Rockstar" is safe and will get a great home. His story has a happy ending, but he serves as a reminder that it is more important than ever to give shelter dogs a chance. Economic downturns are always hardest on those on the bottom rungs of the ladder, and animals are about as low as it goes. The shelters are overflowing with four-legged victims of the recession and they need us to adopt rather than purchase our pets and to make sure they are spayed or neutered. After all, they can't all be Rockstars...

Pure Joy

Whenever I question my sanity for living with a zillion dogs and giving every free minute of my spare time to animal rescue, I point myself to moments like this- moments of pure, unadulterated dog joy.

Brisa and Dibu are a pair of mother-son fluff balls who came to Lost Dog Rescue when a woman came into the PetSmart on an adoption day asking us to take her paralyzed Pekingese. Brisa had no use of her back legs and her rear end was matted and covered in poop. We agreed to take her (thanks Marcia and Peggy) but weren't sure we would be able to do much of anything for her. One that agreement was in place, the woman mentioned that Brisa had a son. Could we take him too? "Why not?" we said. "In for a penny" and all that.

When she returned with Dibu we were shocked. He is at least twice his mother's size and doesn't look much like a Pekingese. When we asked who his father was, we were told, "The neighbor's dog." Ah, well, he was gorgeous and thankfully not paralyzed.

Brisa went straight to the vet on a Saturday night. Xrays revealed a problematic disk in her back-maybe ruptured, maybe just enlarged. She started on steroids and we crossed our fingers.

Once home, Brisa scooted around like a pro. Using only her front legs, she followed me everywhere. For the millionth time, I was grateful for our one-floor living. Within 48 hours Brisa was up on all four legs for brief periods. Within a week, she was walking. Her gait remains odd, but as you can see, our girl can run!

Brisa isn't out of the woods yet. She has had a couple of seizures. The first one we were sure was a Frontline reaction. The second, unexplained. It looks like some neurological testing is in her future and we are hoping and praying to find nothing so she can get spayed and get on with finding a forever home.

What lies ahead for Brisa is unknown except for two certainties: 1- she will get the very best care possible and every chance at an amazing life and, 2- she will chart the territory ahead with her boy Dibu at her side. Momma Brisa and her boy are inseparable and will, no matter what, face life together.

My guess? They'll get through it just fine.

Diving for Puppies

"DOG!!!"
We screamed it simultaneously as a red streak dashed across the highway in front of us and darted through the grass on the side of the road. I hit the brakes, pulled onto the shoulder, puched the hazard lights button and grabbed a leash. Pam was already running.

It turned out to be a puppy, and a very scared one at that. He was determined to get away from us and led us on a run neither of us is in shape for down the side of Highway 29 rural Virginia. He zigged and zagged through tall grass and then-dangerously- headed back towards the highway. Pam followed at a crawl, not wanting to spook him into an oncoming car. She got close. He made a run for it, but she got him by the tail and hung on. He screamed like he was being dismembered and made a very sincere puppy attempt at a menacing bite or two, but she didn't let go. In a few seconds she had him cradled in her arms and, out-of-breath, we headed back to our car.

There was no sign of human life (other than speeding cars) for quite a distance around us- no homes, no businesses, nothing. After looking around a bit and remarking on the amazing amount of ticks on him- in his eyes, between his toes, on his nether regions, completely covering the inside of his ears-we tossed our new friend into a crate in the back of the minivan and resumed our journey north.

"Matty" was a good little passenger apart from vomiting green peas (?) and roundworms, and he has already warmed up to humans quite a bit. He spent the night at our vet's office where he was de-ticked (better them than me!), de-wormed, checked out and vaccinated. Neuter surgery is next.

We're glad we caught him and glad he will not be road kill, but sad at the reality of this kind of life for so many puppies. Barely three months old, Matty was out to fend for himself and wouldn't have lasted much longer. He is a living reminder of the consequences of our society's failure to responsibly spay/neuter our companion animals.

Matty will be on the website soon, so look for the little runaway next week. We'll still be catching our breath...