Early Morning Open Thread: Trio

From commentor Annia:

It may be just about impossible to imagine that Julia, the beauty on the left, spent 6 long weeks at the local animal shelter, waiting for a home. One day my car just drove itself to the shelter, and there she was. She had a massive wound to her face stitched together with 5 huge Frankenstein stitches. Though the injury happened at the shelter within days of her arriving, it still looked as if the stitches were taken yesterday. She was a day or two from being put down. Though I hadn’t wanted a dog at this particular time, Julia was coming home. It was complicated, it turns out that she had separation anxiety and needed a fair amount of conditioning to be left alone for a while without eating all the door jambs, but I work from home and it felt like it was meant to be that she would have someone around almost all the time. The thing was, when she came to live with us it was like all the lights were turned back on. We smiled all the time. She climbed on the bed and fell asleep with a sideways smile, and all the rules about where dogs sleep went out the window.
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Life was so good, we wanted more of it. So we spotted two blond pups in need of a home on an internet rescue site, and they felt just right, too. Well a few days after these gorgeous creatures arrived, they just did not feel wall – and they had Parvo. The Parvo virus was likely contracted in traveling to come to us, and is very often deadly. It works by destroying the lining of the intestines, and the only treatment is to keep the dog hydrated and manage complications until it can fight off the virus itself. Well, Darcy made it through in a few days, but Cedar left us deciding each day if we would keep trying – for nearly two weeks. And Parvo is as close to torture as you can get without the Bush Administration.
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I did not know at the time, but the two brothers would be the size of Great Danes. They can rest their chins on the kitchen counter with four feet on the ground. And life could not be better.








One and Done

For those of you keeping score at home, it takes approximately sixty seconds for a Jack Russell Terrier, once tied outside, to knock over the mums, knock over the pumpkin, and then get hopelessly tangled in a yard sign and then start yelping like you are being beaten.

Atta girl, Rosie.








Early Morning Open Thread: “Gypsy’s Journey”



From commentor Bob D:

I first saw Gypsy when she chased my car after pre-settlement inspection of our new house in Western North Carolina in early march 2005. I didn’t see her again for several months since she hid when my pack of four dogs passed her home. She had chased one of our cats up a tree in the woods near her home, but she ran away when we got the cat down.
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Gypsy was an outdoor dog whose owners had moved away and asked their renter to take care of the dog. About 4 months after we moved in a roommate moved in with the renter and brought his boxer, Ginger, with him. Ginger joined our pack for our twice daily walks and soon Gypsy joined too. The renters in the only other house on the street felt that Gypsy and Ginger were not being fed and watered regularly and started feeding them. Soon both dogs moved onto their porch and that’s the way it stayed for about a year. The roomies were no better paying rent than they were taking care of dogs and got evicted. Ginger left and Gypsy stayed on the porch.
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The couple taking care of Gypsy moved out about a year later and couldn’t take Gypsy with them, so they asked the renter coming in after them to take care of Gypsy. Unfortunately, the new renter was one of the roomies who didn’t take care of the dogs last time he had a chance. So we made sure Gypsy had food and water. One of our dogs came down with leptospirosis (a contagious kidney/liver infection). After our dog recovered, we asked the current keeper if he minded if we took Gypsy to the vet. We got a “do what you want”.
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My wife felt that she had a special bond with Gypsy and wanted to be the one to take her for a checkup. We put a kennel leash on her and she just froze. I had to pick her up and put her in the car. The vet’s aides had to carry her in and out since she refused to move when on the leash. After she got her shots my wife dropped her off in front of her home and she just followed my wife to our house. So, I don’t know if we technically saved her as much as she saved herself.
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She’s been with us ever since and she’s now and indoor dog living the good life. Though she still doesn’t like going to the vets.








Early Morning Open Thread: Travellin’

From commentor Louise:

This is my rescue dog, Mackenzie. She’s a terrier-spaniel mix (we think) and in the picture, she’s enjoying a boat ride in Northern
Wisconsin.
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I walked into the SPCA in Dallas, TX nine years ago and looked around at the enclosures. The first dog on my left was a kind I was allergic to. The dog on my right was, too. Then I looked at the enclosure right in front of me, and there she was, looking directly at me, quiet as a mouse. She had been dropped off by someone, so they knew she was about a year old, and her name was “Angel.” She was extremely thin and undernourished — about 15 pounds underweight as it turned out.
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I took her home, and named her Mackenzie (with silent apologies to the person who had named her). For the first month, she didn’t make a peep, much less bark. It was immediately clear she’d been hit and kicked, as she cowered when hands or legs came at her from certain directions. On our walks, she was right at my side, shying away from most everything. Holidays were traumatic because of the large pumpkins or inflated Santas people had on their lawns. If anyone came to the house, she crawled under a table and shook.
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But my roommate and I let her get used to things, and gave her lots of love (which, as most dog rescuers have experienced, was welcomed at any time, as long as it was us), and gradually, she opened up.
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Mackenzie is now 10 years old, has lived in three states, has many dog and human friends, and — while she’s still neurotic about (a) men who don’t have a dog by their sides, (b) schedule changes, and (c) the dish her food and water are in (they must be plastic)
— she’s lived a happy life and made my life immeasurably better.
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Before Mackenzie, I had only had pure-bred dogs from breeders. Now, I can’t imagine not choosing a mixed breed rescue.








Early Morning Open Thread: Buddies



From commentor Bruce J:

First image is Cicely (L), and Katie ( R ). Cicely was a two-time loser at the Humane Society; we speculate that someone tried to train her to be a gun dog, because the was utterly terrified of thunder, fireworks and similar loud noises…during storms she’d run into the bathroom and hide in the bathtub, shivering uncontrollably. She also barked at running water, like streams. Never DID figure that one out…
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We got her at about a year old and she immediately became an integral part of the family for another 11 years.
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Katie was a puppy at the county animal shelter, who got take home by the simple strategem of walking between my legs and sitting down, and being unbelievably cute. She’s figured, ‘Why ruin a good thing by changing it’ and for 8 years has been the sweetest, dopiest 80 lb lap puppy.
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A couple years later we got Hunter, here seen hogging the spotlight from Katie in the background, another 2-time loser from the Humane Society. Her intake info there stated “Owner’s new husband didn’t like the dog.” Well, my and my wife’s immediate reaction was “Well, in that case it wouldn’t have been the DOG who left!”…but we’re biased that way.
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All three, by the way, were advertised by their respective shelters as “Husky Mixes”.
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Sadly I don’t have any pictures at hand for Koi, the 6-week old kitten that literally stumbled into our house one day and ruled our hearts for 7 years until we lost her to cancer all too soon.