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...

Sibling Non-Rivalry

In the last six months or so I have had two foster dogs become my shadow, or "mi sombre" as my friend Manuel says. First was Bailey the white shepherd who glued himself to me to night he arrived- scared, skinny and filthy- on a transport from Georgia. I swear it happened the second I brought him into my kitchen and snapped a collar around his neck. For the next couple of months he kept himself in physical contact with me whenever possible and always, always, always in visual contact. Finally, Bailey got adopted and though it was hard to let him go I was happy to see him move on to a new life. 

Enter Raven. After a life of continuous breeding, Raven was turned into a shelter when her owner became ill. When taken out for a walk one day by a representative of another rescue group, Raven slipped her collar and took off. She was missing for months and when she was finally recaptured she was very, very pregnant. We brought her home right away and on the very first night here, she somehow managed to haul her giant pregnant belly over our fence and disappear. We looked for her all night and frequently sighted or heard her but were unable to capture her until the next day when she was just too tired to run anymore.  

Raven gave birth in my bathroom three days later and I sat with her through it all, including the one who didn't make it after being too long in the birth canal. Nine days after the puppies were born, Raven became critically ill and had to have an emergency hysterectomy. It turned out that her uterus was crumbling inside of her as a side effect of over-breeding and causing a terrible infection. Again, Raven fought back from adversity and when she came back home. we became best buddies. She is by my side always, one eye on me no matter what else is happening. The former runaway dog is 100% trustworthy off leash with me and never fails to come when called. I trip over her on a regular basis. 

When I learned last week that Bailey was going to have to come back to my house, I worried. I worried that my two shadows would hate each other and be in constant competition for my attention. I worried Raven would slink away if Bailey was too dominant in demanding my affection. I worried there would be bloodshed. 

My worries were put to rest tonight. I looked down from my stool to find the two of them laying face to face by my side playing an incredibly gentle game of tug of war. The game did not require either to move out of my way or to cede any territory. It was a quiet occupation for dogs who are waiting, ready to spring into action at the slightest indication of human movement. 

Always, I am amazed at the ability of dogs to work it out. Somehow, someway, they make it work, usually when we leave them alone and let them do it in their own way.