Petfinder.com is hosting an "Adopt-a-Less-Adoptable Pet" adoption campaign this month, September 17-25, 2011. Below is a video link on YouTube produced by the editors of "Life + Dog", a glossy pet-owner "lifestyle" magazine.
I have a "less-adoptable" foster dog--Sassy, a 3-year-old black Chihuahua girl who is afraid of the camera, pudgy, bossy, snippy and black-coated--all things that work against her chances of adoption. Sassy came into "Operation Pets Alive" from a vet's office, where a client took her, saying they found her. The veterinarian spayed and vaccinated her. She is heartworm negative and is on prevention.
Sassy doesn't do well at off-sites, although I keep taking her to them. She jumps and snips against her crate warn people that she's nervous, and she lunges at other dogs in a show of bravado. Sassy needs a home with an owner who understands how to correct a dominant small dog and integrate her into the household. I have worked with her diligently and she's doing much better. While she could be placed with a household with other dogs, she would not be a good choice for families with small children--and, of course, children are immediately drawn to her because she has fluffy black fur.
We're working hard at the Shelter to get dogs and cats into fur-ever homes. However, sometimes it feels like an uphill battle.
Little Pic-a-Pepper
On Labor Day, I adopted "Pepper", my spunky little tri-color Chihuahua foster boy. He's going to a home with a puppy mill-Papillon for a friend, and at-home owner who wanted a Chihuahua best friend. Pepper hardly gave me a second glance as he left!
Then, yesterday, I was waiting to see the Shelter Vet, Dr. D. He was conferring with a new adopter who had brought in a sweet Lab-mix puppy named Maya. The dog was lethargic, shut down, feverish and wouldn't do much more than sleep, plus was suffering from loose stools and poor appetite. When the pup's eyes began oozing green goop, the owner brought the dog in to try and figure out the problem. The prognosis wasn't good--most likely distemper (Even I could tell--the dog's nose was runnning, and the pup had that stunned, woozy-eyed "Big D" look). Dr. D. recommended euthanization, which at that point, was wise. The owner agreed, on the condition (of course) that he could come back in a week or so to choose another dog.
Meanwhile, the Shelter is overrun with kittens and cats. I heard, unofficially, that approximately 1,000 cats and kittens have made the trip to the EU room in the past few weeks.
We're running a big Off-Site push at four different PetsMart locations this week, as part of PetsMart's "Second Chance at Love" promotion. The PetsMart Charities are giving larger donations to the Shelter for each pet adopted from September 6th through the 12th. We're struggling with getting volunteers to work the weekday Off-sites--most have day jobs. I've been hauling dogs and working Off-sites all week and am exhausted. My house is a wreck, and my husband is ready to throw a big ol' hissy fit. Rain from Hurricane/Tropical Storm Hermione has slowed everything down. Today, the storms have departed Houston, but the humidity and mosquitoes are back.
I brought home a tiny, russet-red boy Chihuahua last night. I took him to Off-site, then realized too late that he was ill. He is very underweight, has upper respitory and God knows what else. Plus he's un-altered. He did eat last night, and has eaten this morning. I don't know whether he'll make it or not.
Here is a video that was made, using footage shot in our Shelter a few weeks ago.
Since the beginning of summer, we have seen an increase in owner-surrenders and adoption-returns on dogs. The owner-surrender dogs tend to fall apart in the Shelter encvironment. I have been taking Checkers, a five or six year old Rat Terrier to Off-sites. He thinks I'm his savior and he shrieks in his kennel if I walk out of sight, which annoys the PetsMart manager. The store manager is not happy to have us there, but we help increase sales--one of my adopters yesterday spent $96 buying supplies, including a dog crate. I spent $40 both this week and last week buying supplies for my dogs and fosters. It irks me when we can't have what should be a win-win relationship with PetsMart.
Once this PetsMart deal is done this weekend, we'll be back to our regular schedule--primarily weekend events. I just wish the stream of dogs and cats arriving at the Shelter would ease up.
First, the caveat: I am not a true believer in pet psychics, but there is that "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!" part of me that absolutely wishes, really, really that it could be true. If someone asked me to clap my hands so a dog could talk to a pet psychic, I'd do it.
Thus said, this afternoon, I had the honor of meeting Sonya Fitzgerald, the famous animal communicator who dominated the cable station "Animal Planet" a few years back.
Ms. Sonya was the guest at our shelter's super sponsors, the awesome Barker Street Bakery in The Woodlands, TX. The good folks at Barker hosted the "Bow Wow Bash," complete with a dog-themed jump house for the kids, a pet-food donation drive, and a raffle that included goodies such as a flat-screen TV and a big leopard-print dog bed filled with treats and toys. More than $2,600 was raised for the Friends of the Montgomery Animal Shelter, one of the non-profits who help our Shelter dogs by providing funds for Veterinary care and other needs. What a phenomenal fundraiser!
I took my bouncy little foster Chihuahua, Pepper, to the event, hoping to find him a home. Ms. Sonya was inside the store, talking to folks and their pets. I joined the line of devoted pet owners and their well-loved dogs, including a Catahoula mix wearing a devil costume, extra-fluffy Pomeranians, and Shelter rescues that included a distemper-survivor Spaniel mix who had severe tremors in her back legs.
Doggy cookies spell out the event name.
Ms. Sonya Fitzpatrick was a huge hit with all the dogs and their people, graciously greeting more than two dozen pets and their owners. Ms. Sonya wasn’t doing full readings, but she did convey things that were on the various dogs’ minds.
We meet Sonya Fitzgerald.
Pepper was a very good boy, considering the crowded store, antsy dogs and delicious treats and toys on display. When our turn came, I put him on the table. I had on my MCAS apron and I told Ms. Sonya he was my foster Shelter dog. I had written “ADOPT ME” on a shipping tag and attached it, a lá Alice in Wonderland’s famous “DRINK ME” order, and he’d already gotten many compliments and had his photo taken.
Ms Sonya said Pepper wanted me to know these things: “He wants to stay at your house. He loves it there. He likes everybody and he feels so loved. He doesn’t want to go with anyone else because he loves you best and most and you will cry if someone else takes him.” (Pepper is right, of course, but anyone could have told me that!)
Ms. Sonya promised to “tell” him that I will find him the best home for him and that I’ll always love him.
Pepper asked what happened to the other dog who was visiting.
That had to be Tucker, I said, completely, totally captivated, in spite of myself. I asked Ms. Sonya to tell Pepper that Tucker was now home with his Mommy and that we were only babysitting. Then I asked if Pepper had anything to say about an older female dog.
“He says she’s rude,” Ms. Sonya said before I even finished. “Rude, rude, rude. Quite the rudest dog he’s ever met and he doesn’t like her, not at all.” I’m not sure if Pepper meant Mrs. Puff my senior Chi or Cross my little Rat Terrier mix, who had been very bossy toward him at first, but now is willing to wrestle.
Then I asked if Pepper liked the name we had given him. Ms. Sonya said that he likes all the names I call him. (I pick out a name, but call most of my fosters by sweetie-names like "Snickers", "Pup-Pup" and "Little Dude" or the like. Pepper told Ms. Sonya that likes it that I talk to him and the other dogs all the time. (I do). But most of all he liked it when he got to sleep with me (I let him snuggle with me on the couch and once in bed). That was the best thing.
Pepper also told her that he is a good barker, a very good barker. (I have to agree with that). Pepper also said he is a very good guard dog and that I need him to do that job for me. He didn’t want to go home with anyone else today.
There were many personalities at the Bash, including this Rottie Mix named "Hooker." I have never seen a dog willingly wear real shoes. She could walk with them on, too. Compared to this sweet girl, my own dogs lead very dull lives!
I know it’s silly, but I just got emotional about the whole thing. Ms. Sony thanked me for the work I do for these dogs and we made our exit. It's no matter whether her talent is real or not. The hard-working volunteers and generous donors pulled off a great event--Pepper got his photo taken for the newspaper, which may help him find the home he deserves, and I got to meet a celebrity who made me feel just a bit special. What's not to like?
-*-
"Sign" photo courtesy of TVindy. Photo of Pepper with Ms. Sonya and me--taken on my camera by a girlfriend.
I feel the worst for the old dogs who come into the Shelter. The ones like Mrs. Puff, the old Chihuahua surrendered two weeks ago.
No one noted any remarks beyond "owner surrender" on her intake paperwork. She is heartworm negative, so someone was caring for her, at least that much. But not enough to keep her to the end of her days.
She is so self-contained, so fully aware--she watches me and I can hear her thoughts:
You are nice, but... The couch is comfy, but... I like your grass, but... The food is good, but...
Sometimes it is difficult to meet her gaze, which is intensely direct and unflinching. Her ears stand up like bat wings, and she follows my movements with her gaze, clouded though it is due to beginnings of cataracts.
I wonder if her owner thinks about her. I know Mrs. Puff has thought hard about her person. I know the first day I met Mrs. Puff, she was looking for her person. We were at an Off-Site at the local cinema-complex, a place I'm sure Mrs. Puff had never been. But she had a purpose--she was, like the Blues Brothers, on a mission from God.
All day, in spite of the heat, she padded forward, first one direction, then the next, walking as far as the leash would permit, her gaze direct and unflinching, her bat-wing ears perked forward, listening. Her confidence was palpable. Her person would come.
I took her home. I've fed her, gotten her on a potty schedule, fixed a bed by the dresser in my bedroom since she complains if she's crated. I've given her meds for kennel cough, cleaned out her ears, and dosed her with benadryl when her itchies become too bothersome. I've placed an ad extolling her virtues, but no one has responded. I am not her person. I am her foster.
Two days ago, I sensed a shift in Mrs. Puff. A flicker of depression. An awareness that her person is not coming. Now she is focused fully on me, on my daughter, and my son. She wants her bed in a certain spot. She wants help onto the couch. She wants her food. She has surrendered her heart to me. And it makes my heart ache to know this.
This is my daughter (yes, she has dyed her hair blue-green for the summer) holding a reluctant "Teencie" as we are now calling our skittish little Chi foster girl. Teencie wants so badly to be held, but she isn't quite yet brave enough to let us do so. We can scratch behind her ears, and hold her (firmly) for a few moments. She whines and howls in her crate at night, so now she's sleeping with my daughter. That is, she is sharing the bed. This has made Teencie more confident. We've had a her a week and she has improved tremendously.
This is Tucker, my other foster, right before his June 10-11 heartworm treatment. He received the 2-dose, back-to-back Immiticide shots. He's doing fine--the biggest problem is keeping him quiet. He loves to run after birds and squirrels. One of my Vet Tech friends says her clinic is out of Immiticide, and it doesn't look like they will be able to get more for awhile. Our Shelter clinic ran out of the drug earlier this year, and so when I took Tucker home, I put his name on a wait list. When the Immiticide doses arrived, I got a call--I made sure to get him in so he wouldn't lose his place in the line.
This is my dog, Cross. She isn't really taunting you, She is about to lick. She has a licking problem. She is powerless over her desire to lick. She needs a 12-step group.
The old Chihuahua has owners! They have been looking for him--he is 14 years old; they've had him since he was a puppy, and his name is "Peanut." So he went home with them. According to the Shelter staff person who handled the case, the little dog got all wiggly and squeaky when he heard his person's voice.
The visible tumors on him are lymphomas, and the fleas must have come because he was lost for several days. No information on why the owners had let his toenails grow so long and jaggedy. Thus, we have closure.
Go figure! The blind, toothless, bald old Chihuahua stud dog featured in the post on June 14th may have a home.
One of the Shelter volunteers uploaded photos of him from her phone, which were picked up by the Houston Pet Blog, Animal Advocate. A man from Detroit, Michigan, saw the dog via the post and contacted the Rescue Coordinator at MCTAS called and wishes to adopt the dog if transport can be arranged. Currently, the Rescue Coordinator is working on trying to secure transport. The little old guy seems pretty darn perky, in spite of his myriad problems. What looked like an immediate euthanization may have a better ending. I'll post an update as I get more information!
I went to the Shelter today to straighten out paperwork for my teeny-tiny Chihuahua foster and things were crazy. This GSD, a small, but very typey female, came in as a stray. The woman who brought her in thinks she may have jumped out of a truck. She was in good shape, just frightened. No microchip. We'll be lucky if anyone claims her. If not, though, she'll be put into rescue or adopted quickly.
The Bad
No, this isn't "bad" because she is a pit bull. It's bad because she came in as a stray, super skinny, obviously bred-to-bits, and bearing scars on her ribcage and ears. This is our typical pit bull mama dog--a marshmallow personality condemned in a fighting body. This girl probably has heartworms, along with at least one badly infected dug. Her fate is uncertain.
The Ugly--WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IMAGES ARE GRAPHIC
This train wreck of a dog was scooped up from the roadside by a good Samaritan. He is a tiny boy Chihuahua who--more than likely--has spent his entire life being a stud dog. He is not blind, but close to it, has no teeth, no lower jaw, and was covered with fleas and nearly bald, with exceedingly long, jagged toenails.
We thought at first that this would be an immediate euthanization case--he lay listless in an old towel. But once he was on the floor, the little booger lapped up some food (we made it soupy) his tongue darting like a hummingbird's, then we we put him in a crate with an another dog (a Yorkie about twice the Chi's size), the little old man puffed up like a Rottie and dominated that poor Yorkie, standing with his studly equipment on full alert, and growling (although it sounded like snufffling). The Yorkie cowered in the corner, terrified of this little banshee.
This guy's fate after the end of his stray-hold period is most likely euthanization--he has visible tumors, an abnormally swollen prostrate, a bellyful of worms and most likely is heartworm positive. How someone can permit an animal to decline into such a horrible state is hard to fathom. This dog's problems were almost all preventable with decent care, but clearly, his owner didn't consider them to be issues worth treating.
We've had a run lately with stray old dogs arriving in horrible shape--a blind, incontinent Pomeranian, an old Yorkie with half his coat gone due to mange, and a blind Cocker Spaniel with a coat matted to a dense carpet of flea-dandered fur. We end up giving these weary seniors the pink injection, but the volunteers and Shelter staff would sure like to give a swift boot in the rear to the owners who abandoned these elders in their last days.
I have acquired a second foster, a teeny, tiny, itsy-bitsy, bitey-bitey black-and-tan Chihuahua girl. One of the Shelter Clinic Techs pulled her from the Stray area because she was so nippy she would have been euthanized and urged me to take her home and "tame" her.
Evidently, I have become the "small dog lady". I'm also considered the Chihuahua expert--which makes me laugh! My off-site Team Leader, who loves the big lunk-head Labs, was impressed how I dodged the Chi's nips in order to get a slip leash on her. If you use a towel and grip her from behind, she can't get you with her itty-bitty teeth.
This little girl is tee-nincey, weighing maybe two and a half pounds. She growls (a teeny sound) and rolls her eyes and nip-nip-nips! Her bite isn't strong, but she is a wiggly, fiesty thing. She is terrified and doesn't hesitate to let you know how she feels. She did eat some chicken from my fingers at dinner tonight and she seems calmer than she did yesterday, when I first saw her. Hopefully, she'll come around. She is absolutely adorable--my 16-year-old squealed like a kid when she saw her.
Tinker Bell (as I'm calling her since "El Diablo" is a boy's name) isn't in good shape--her toenails were so long (before the first bit of trimming) that the front feet nails curled completely under. She's skinny and has a silver dollar-sized bald patch on her right side (an old burn wound?). She came in as a stray (how on Earth did the Animal Control officer catch her???) and hasn't been spayed or checked for heartworms (with my luck lately, she'll be heartworm positive). I just hope she doesn't get distemper like Arabella did.
Sunday morning at the Emergency Vet office is never a fun experience. People filled the waiting room, with animals needing assistance for things ranging from high fever to broken legs. I came to the Conroe Emergency Vet Clinic to be with Arabella, our little distemper dog, in her last moments.
On Saturday, I took the little Chihuahua from a Vet clinic in the Woodlands to the Emergency Clinic since The Woodlands Clinic would be closed for the Memorial Day weekend holiday. The dog's sponsor was willing to keep trying to bring Arabella around. But after receiving an estimate that began at $1,400 with a high of $2,500, and no guarantees or end to the critical care (the estimate was good through Tuesday morning, when the EC Vet would close), the sponsor was forced into making that tough but familiar decision.
"Every time I started thinking about that bill, I'd get a cold knot in my stomach," she told me on the phone this morning. "I'd spent so much already, and the dog wasn't improving." I agreed: it was time to stop, and do the best thing for Arabella. I had already made it clear to the sponsor that I would go and be with Arabella at the end since the sponsor was out of town and was handling the dog's treatment via phone and email.
So Sunday morning, instead of going to church, I went to a service of a different kind. I took a little red collar that Arabella had worn, a pink squeaky toy that she had enjoyed and the softest fleece blanket I own. At the EC clinic, the staff was awesome. Unfortunately, I don't have anyone's names, but every staff person, from the presiding Vet to the Techs and Desk Staff treated Arabella and I with the greatest compassion and respect.
I was ushered into an exam room. I couldn't take Arabella outside (she was still shedding the distemper virus and would put other clients' animals at risk) but I spread the fleece blanket on the exam table, and when she was brought to me, I removed her Elizabethan collar and slipped a red dog collar around her skinny neck, because in my house, we never have "nekkid dogs"--every foster gets a collar.
She perked up and wagged her tail as I cuddled her. I showed her the small pink squeaky toy I'd brought her, and made it squeak. She reached for it and took it into her mouth. She didn't have the strength to squeak it, so when she dropped it, I squeaked it and gave it to her again. She seemed happy and held it contentedly in her mouth (at my house she had walked around with that toy in her mouth, just squeaking and squeaking). After about 10 minutes, the Doctor and Tech came in with the syringe of pink fluid.
One month ago, I had to put my own dog down. It was chaotic and hard because my daughter panicked when the dog jerked as the needle went in. This Vet didn't do a pre-sedate, but she was good at this procedure. Arabella did tense and jerk once, but I was ready when her head flopped limply into the crook of my arm. She went easily and fast.
Both the Doctor and Vet Tech were attentive and gentle. They talked to Arabella through the entire procedure, calling her a good, good dog. She was a good dog. A very good dog.
"Arabella" (aka "Princess"), the little Distemper Dog, is back at the Vet's, on IVs since yesterday. She has had the three serum injections that might defeat the distemper, but her physical state was sliding. Her sponsor opted to pay out of her own pocket for this final effort. Arabella has a lot of heart and hasn't given up, but the money spent so far to fight her illness is more than $1,000, and that's at steeply discounted (thanks to two very generous Veterinary practices, and two non-profits) rescue rates. If she is not significantly improved after three days, then we need to face the fact that euthanization is necessary. I don't want Arabella to die. Nor does her sponsor and others who have met her. Yet, money may not save her life.
Which brings up the question: How much should be spent trying to save a Shelter dog?
Vast amounts of money, much from non-profit fund-raising, much from individuals' own pockets, is spent on individual Shelter dogs whose plights spur people into last-ditch, major efforts. Many of these cases involve unique situations that arouse fierce sympathy. Just recently at our Shelter, major effort and expense has been spent treating a dog hit by a car (the dog is recovering) and a mature Chocolate lab whose owner dumped him with an old badly healed broken leg, which has now been amputated (this guy is recovering as well).
The latest extreme example is a GSD mix dog found along the I-45 and brought into the Shelter with bowed front legs, due to carpal flexural deformity, along with severely atrophied back legs. This dog appears otherwise healthy in spite of his condition, and he has learned to "scoot" along using his belly. Currently, the Shelter Director (who is a notoriously soft-hearted person) is investigating treatment options. Most likely, appeals will be made for outside donations. Plans include high-lighting this dog in the paper to arouse public interest. Not to suggest that it is wrong to consider treating this dog, but I still wonder if the thousands of dollars that corrective surgery will require could be better spent elsewhere within the Shelter.
Dogs tug at peoples' heartstrings and consequently their wallets--Arabella's sponsor has spent close to $800 of her own money. The sponsor has a huge emotional (not to mention financial) investment in this dog. Yet Arabella is property of Montgomery County, Texas. Without the volunteers (and I count myself in this group because I've put $150 or so toward her treatment), Arabella would already be dead.
Still, with 40 percent of all incoming dogs testing positive for heartworms, and the fact that the Shelter opts to treat these dogs at the rate of about 8 animals per week and a cost of $25,000 per year (much donated), we need to ponder the difficult issue of resource allocation. It's tough to choose. People will be upset. Some dogs will not get treated. But perhaps it would be better to affect the outcome for the greatest number of dogs.
We're not only faced with choices regarding the extreme cases, we need to develop a better approach to handling distemper cases.
Many distemper dogs are given treatments, and most, especially the puppies, die. The preventive vaccine series costs about $40-$160, depending on where the owner takes the puppy. In our area, many people don't vaccinate their puppies. Whether it is out of ignorance or lack of money is unknown. But the $1,000 spent so far on Arabella would buy a lot of distemper vaccine.
It's a thorny issue with no easy answers. What do you think? What is the best way to compassionately spend limited funds?
Distemper is a horror--it is highly contagious, and almost always lethal. Plus, it's dicey to diagnose since the early symptoms mimic other common ailments, including bordetella (kennel cough), upper respiratory infections and the early stages of parvo.
My little foster Chihuahua, Arabella, who we're calling Princess, probably has it. It's tentative because obtaining a distemper diagnosis is not easy. We've got fever (highs up to 104.9 degrees F, currently averaging about 103.4 degrees F), lethargy, despondency, weight loss, loss of appetite, nausea, excessive salivation, dehydration and gummy eyes with red rims. The kitchen-sink approach (described two posts earlier in this blog) didn't work. Four days of IVs and antibiotics worked only as long as the catheter was in place.
So now we're trying something new and controversial--the Dr. Sears treatment, which is based on the "Newcastle" vaccine. One of our area Vets who has treated animals from the Shelter is offering the three-day series of serum vaccines (taken from healthy donor dogs). Today, our little Chihuahua received the first of the vaccines, along with an injection of Baytril.
Her sponsor has taken her home tonight because she wants to oversee the dog's treatment. The sponsor is convinced she can do a better job getting the dog to eat (good luck with that). Plus, she doesn't have kids. I'll get the dog back on Thursday, which provides me with a chance to catch my breath. I have another foster dog, plus my own dog. Taking care of this dog has been a challenge because my family is still grieving the loss of our dog, and her symptoms have caused her to look a lot like he did (although he didn't have distemper), which pains my 16-year-old to tears. I don't know if the Newcastle approach will work. All we can do is try.
According to an ABC news report in March, "Spring is considered to be distemper season. But what's happening now is believed to be more than that. Harris County Animal Control is seeing about 20 percent more distemper cases than normal. Then there's the wildlife population. Raccoons are susceptible to distemper. Since January more have been brought into Houston's Wildlife Rehabilitation Center." Distemper outbreaks are also reported in Autstin, and are affecting other states as well as Texas--California and Florida are experiencing upticks in cases. In Toronto, Canada, there is an outbreak of distemper in raccoons that is spreading to dogs.
What galls me is that distemper is one of the most preventable diseases that afflicts dogs. Years ago, of course, it was a rampant killer, but vaccinations for puppies have put a huge dent in the disease's power. However, many people don't vaccinate their puppies--and almost all the puppies from unwanted litters arrive at the Shelter vulnerable to the disease. They are sentenced to death because they are exposed before the vaccines have a chance to take effect.
We can't do much about wild-animal transmission of distemper to dogs, but we can save lives, not mention tons of money, by vaccinating. As for Arabella, only time will tell.
This is "Princess" (what my daughter is calling her), aka "Aribella," a Chi Mix foster. She is I have a foster dog that is suffering from "Shelter Crash" as I call the decline that begins shortly after pulling the dog from the Shelter. The "Crash" includes an array of symptoms that range from loss of appetite to loose stools, lethargy and fever. Princess arrived Mother's Day with the "zoomies" and a very active kissy-tongue, but a week later, she lost her pep and zip.
Princess has lost weight she couldn't afford to lose, won't eat much but hand-fed boiled chicken, and won't drink, so we've done sub-cus twice and I'm giving her watered down Royal Canin Recovery by syringe. She still wags her tail and trots a bit outside, but retreats to her crate or the blankets by the recliner. Two days ago, she spiked a fairly high fever. She had a cursory exam by a Vet on Sunday, and has seen another Vet (better--i.e., more attuned to Shelter dog issues) on Monday. We're heading back this afternoon because she hasn't perked up the way she needs too, although at least she isn't declining horrifically fast.
Meanwhile, we're doing the Kitchen Sink treatment--she's been wormed, and has the bordetella booster, and isn't a puppy, so we're pretty sure it's not parvo. She's taking an Albon-Metroniadazaole combo in liquid, plus a docycline tablet, plus she's had three days of penicillin injections with B12 added along with some other anti-biotic. I have given her some Purina foriflora powder and have an anti-diarrhea tablet but haven't given her that since she hasn't had a bowel movement.
So...what's the deal? This has happened before with my fosters. They come home chipper, then crash and burn. So we try a little of everything because under most circumstances we don't do any diagnostics via blood tests. This little girl's coughing, discharging snot or wheezing, but it still could be disptemper. Or giardia, or some other parasite. Of course, there's one other unknown--she's not been tested for heartworms. I don't think her symptoms point to heartworms, but then, I'm no Vet. Plus I think she's coming into heat.
I hope we can get this dog back into shape--she's a little character and will make someone an awesome pet.
Today, I delivered an old, ill, befuddled male chihuahua into the arms of the Shelter Vet Tech for euthanization. I made the decision on an animal that people had been fretting about for two days.
One volunteer thought the dog was just "despondent." Another admitted that the animal was near its end, but felt that someone should take the dog home and let it "pass away" on its own. A staff person desperately wanted the dog to have time "outside the Shelter" before it died.
The dog in question was a stray-hold dog whose time was up today. He was a tiny, old, cinnamon-colored male chihuahua, coated in flea dander, gummy-eyed, disoriented, shaking, and hacking with advanced heartworms. The poor old man couldn't even stand--when I set him on the grass outside, his hindquarters quivered and he staggered once, then collapsed. His ears were at half mast and his head was as jiggly as a bobble-head toy.
I have two foster dogs. My own dog just died (and this little guy's staggers looked suspiciously similar to what I saw in my own dog during his last hours). A staffer gave the old dog a Capstar with a bit of wet cat food. Cat food works wonders with ailing dogs--he perked up and ate a few more bites. I gave him a bath to wash off the bulk of the flea crap and rubbed him warm with a clean towl, then wrapped him in a piece of fleece.
I took him outside and set him down on the grass. He staggered, then collapsed. He didn't whine or complain. He just worked himself into a down position and lay there, blinking blearily in the warm sun. I watched him, tears filling my eyes. I couldn't take him home. No one else had volunteered. We had no way to diagnose what was wrong with him. After about twenty minutes, I bundled the old dog up and took him back into the Shelter. I showed him to the Shelter Director, who is a Vet. She watched him wobble and sag. She told me to go to see the Vet Tech, neatly avoiding pronouncing the death sentence.
I admire our Vet Tech immensely. Some of the volunteers think she is harsh and curt with people, but she is focused on doing what she can with exceedingly limited resources. I unwrapped the little guy, set him on the floor. He listed, then fell. The Vet Tech looked at me and said, "There are two options for this dog. Take him out of here, make him comfortable, and let him die. Or put him down now."
"I can't take him home," I said, which was not an excuse. "I want to put him down." The Vet Tech nodded. I carried the dog and we walked out of the receiving area, up the hall to a door marked "Private." The Vet Tech unlocked the door, took the dog and his paperwork and turned. Just before she closed the door, I said, "Wait. Let me say goodbye." I kissed his little head and rubbed his flea-scarred ears. "You were someone's good Chihuahua," I said, "You are a good boy. It will be better now." She turned away with the dog. The door shut with a click.
I have a message on my phone from a volunteer praising me for "taking that poor dog home." She won't be happy to know that I made the decision to have the dog put down. He had as good an end as I could give him--he was cleaner, warm, fed and stroked. He went to the Euthanization room wrapped in a clean fleece blanket.
Some people will consider me the villain. But I hate the way we throw energy and resources at dogs that come to us in such horrible shape. The person at fault is that dog's owner. If that dog was abandoned or turned in as a stray, it was because his owner was too cowardly to make the difficult decision I made this afternoon. That dog's suffering is over. I sent him off with as much dignity as I could muster.
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I didn't have my camera with me today or I would have taken a dozen photos of that old Chihuahua. This photo has been altered from an Internet image.
Most of the dog adoptions I complete are done at off-site locations such as PetsMart or at local community festivals. Consequently, I don't normally get to see my dogs with their new families except by chance. Even with my foster placements, I don't have a way to do much beyond a follow-up by phone--I represent the County and and have no legal claim to the dogs I place.
However, two of my fosters have been placed with friends and one adopter--"Peaches," the puppy mill Chihuahua--has sent me several emails.
"Felicity," a little grey-and-black dog is now named "Chloe" and has a home with a friend of mine who lives near Cut-and-Shoot, Texas. Chloe has a best buddy, Dexter (a mini-schnauzer) and loves to run out to greet the Great Pyrenees that guard my friends' goats. My friend says she thinks that Chloe may be part Papillan and part Terrier. I plan to go out and visit Chloe soon.
"Peaches" found a wonderful home with a semi-retired couple who live in Missouri. They spent the winter months here in Texas and first met Peaches at a PetsMart event in mid-February. They came with their rescue dog (a sweet little Japanese Chin named "Chappie") and spent the afternoon with me. Peaches fell in love with the husband and very quickly adjusted to being the Queen of the Motorhome, with Chappie as her loyal subject. She is now at her new home in Missouri and loves her yard and likes to chase one of the housecats. Peaches' family sends me emails on a regular basis, which is great because we still miss Peaches.
I wish I could see how "Rusty," my little heartworm-positive Miniature Pinscher, is doing. I called his people twice, but would just like to know if he's still with them. The staff knows that if one of my foster dogs ever comes back to the Shelter they are to call me ASAP. I also always tell the adopters that if things should change, they can call me and I'll make arrangements to get the dog.
My parents found their youngest Chihuahua this afternoon, about a city block (although they live in the country) from their house, hiding under an shed's risers near a neighbor's pool.
The neighbor saw her as she was trying to warm herself on the pool deck and called my folks. Megan Marie darted back under the shed but came out when my Mom got own and called her.
She was stinky but in good health and spirits. My parents are so relieved.
When searching for your lost dog, you need to consider widening the distance in blocks (or miles) you will search for your animal. This tiny Chihuahua was about a quarter mile from my parents and roamed even further, based on sightings by neighbors.
I made a flyer for my parents, using the triptych collage photo featured in the previous post about this dog. My folks submitted the flyer to their neighborhood association website, which featured it prominently on the site's front page, with the header "Have You Seen This Dog?"
I encouraged my folks to talk to EVERYONE in their neighborhood, and to give them the flyer. My folks received word about sightings of the dog within hours and the man who found her had seen the flyer, plus talked to my Dad the day Megan Marie got lost.
Not all "lost dog" stories have happy endings, but I'm sure glad this one did!
This is Megan Marie. She is a one-year-old tan or light brown Chihuahua. She got out from my Mom's house, this morning, March 1st and hasn't been found yet. My folks have worn themselves out looking for her.
My folks live in Spring Branch, Texas. Their subdivision, Whispering Hills, is on Texas 46, just across the street from Smithson Valley High School.
Megan Marie didn't have on a collar, but is microchipped. She is a typical skittish Chi.
This is a good time to remind all pet lovers to take and keep handy up-to-date photos of your pets. I had more photos (and these are not the best for ID purposes) than my folks.
I recommend that you take a head shot, and body shots from each side, with good lighting and few background distractions.
I used this collaged photo (made in Picnik) as the focal point of a Lost Dog flyer I mailed and emailed to my folks. A lost or missing dog is every owner's nightmare. I see the anguish on people's faces every day I'm at the Shelter.
My little BYB mama dog Chihuahua, Peaches, has found a home--with a retired couple from Missouri who winter around the "warmer" South in their motor home (I saw on the weather forecast that it was snowing in Kerrville, their next motor home stop!). Peaches' new Mom has sent along several email updates, and I'm pleased to report that Peaches has learned to walk on a leash to do her potty business, and she is quickly transferring her bond to her new people. Peaches even has a doggy buddy to boss around (Queen Bee dog that she is), a sweet-natured puppy mill rescue Japanese Chin named "Cappie." Peaches new family has always had "second-hand dogs" and Peaches has big paws to fill--they recently lost their beloved "Chula," another puppy mill Chihuahua mama dog. Peaches' new mom told me that she believes her dear Chula was nudging her from Dog Heaven to visit the particular PetsMart where I was doing an off-site with Peaches.
I'll miss my sweet love bug Peaches, but I'm sure I'll be getting regular updates! As my daughter says, now it's time for me to go get another "new best friend."
According to the Los Angeles Times blog, “LA Unleashed,” there has been a sharp increase of Chihuahuas entering California animal shelters. The increase is being blamed, in part, on the long-term pop culture status of these feisty little dogs—from Paris Hilton’s pocket pooch, “Tinkerbell,” to the saucy, lately departed “Gidget,” who played the Taco Bell Dog who snarled, “Yo Quiero Taco Bell!” during the wildly popular Taco Bell commercials of the early 2000s.
I don’t have statistics for our Shelter here in Metro Houston, but Chihuahuas arrive, in various sizes and temperaments, on a regular basis. Recently, we received four Chihuahuas which were surrendered by their owners because the owners claimed, “We aren’t making money with these dogs anymore.”
One of those dogs, “Peaches,” the matriarch breeder Chihuahua, is sitting on my lap as I write this entry. We’re at my Mom’s house in Spring Branch, TX, which is a virtual “Chihuahua Ranch” since my Mom has three Chihuahuas (plus my very first ever foster dog, a Jack Russell mix).
“Peaches” has overcome her fear to exhibit her true Chihuahua nature—she is snippy, bossy, needy, and exceedingly cute as she prances along, thrilled with her new life as a “Queen of the Lap Dogs.” Her very nature—her tendency to snap if she feels threatened, her prancy gait, and her radar-quick prick ears, are hall-marks of the breed’s character.
I grew up with my Mom’s Chihuahuas—we’re in the fourth generation of dogs (none are related)--and while I am a small dog fan, I rarely recommend Chihuahuas to my adopters.
These are high-maintenance dogs—their tiny tummies do best with several small meals, they have are horrifically difficult to housebreak (so you’ll be cleaning up tiddle spots and poops around the house) and they are noisy, noisy, noisy. Of course, they love to snuggle, they have kissable little, round heads, and they fit perfectly in your arms.
Still, I don’t recommend them to most of my adopters. Chihuahuas aren’t great with little kids. They are fragile and nippy. They chew up everything they can get in their mouths. And if your Chihuahua eats a packet of M&Ms, you’ll be making a vet visit to have its tummy pumped.
We get lots of Chihuahuas in the Shelter. Many come in with confirmation issues—overbites, underbites, hip problems, splayed feet, weird body shapes and eye problems. The Chi-Weenies (the Designer Dog cross of Chihuahuas with Dachshunds) aren’t any better, in spite of the “thumbs up” given by the Animal Planet show, “Dogs 101.” The ones we get at the Shelter tend to be wildly long in the back, with bad teeth, temperament issues aside.
All that said, my little foster girl, “Peaches,” is going to make some Chihuahua-savvy person an awesome pet. She’s a very perky, pretty girl (in spite of her overbite and bad teeth) and is a snug-bug who is easy to sleep with (yes, I let her sleep in bed with me—it’s almost unheard of to banish a Chihuahua pet from your bed!) Right now, “Peaches” thinks she’s going to stay with me, but on January 2nd, she’ll be at a foster-dog event in search of an owner who will give her the life she deserves.
What do you think about these attractive little diva-dogs? Let me know in the comments!
My 11th foster dog for 2009: a tiny Chihuahua girl who was a puppy mill breeder mama. She was one of four back yard breeder dogs turned into the Shelter last week. When does a "back yard breeder" become a "puppy mill breeder"?--well, in my mind, it's when the owner surrender form states: "We had these dogs only for breeding for top dollar puppies. We no longer make money with these dogs and are moving."
I don't know how the intake person who handled this "surrender" could keep calm. I think I would have gone ballistic. There were three females and one male. Three of the chihuahuas had horrible confirmation--long, skinny backs, outward-turned paws and weak mouths. The mama, named "Peaches," by her owners (although she doesn't appear to answer to the name) came with me. Peaches has an overall good body type, adorable markings, including a kissy spot of white on top of her round apple head, tiny ears and a peach-colored coat, but she has a severe underbite, crooked lower teeth and her ankles have fallen so far they nearly touch the ground. The ankle issue is probably a by-product of spending a life in a wire cage.
All the dogs were nearly feral, with poor socialization. This mama dog was not producing puppies for her owners because when the Shelter vet did the spay operation, the poor dog's uterus was filled with pus from a horrible infection. The Shelter vet did a full hysterectomy and gave her an antibiotic shot. I have started Peaches on Clavamox and have give her some Tramodol leftover from when my little dog got bit up by the Jack Russell foster (that happened in April).
Peaches nommed hard on my index finger put of fear yesterday while I was putting a harness on her, but she seems a bit less terrified today. Picking her up without a fuss is impossible, of course, but she did eat some boiled chicken out of my hand. She is probably not housebroken, but has piddled on the pee-pee pad.
While I was taking care of Peaches' paperwork, the dispatcher came in to say that one of the Animal Control officers was bringing in 10 Rat Terriers from a hoarding situation where there were at least 40 dogs. The Shelter is stuffed with dogs, and we're not really set up to handle these special cases. If you live in the Houston area, and would like to foster a special needs dog, please leave me a comment or visit the Montgomery County Texas Animal Shelter website, http://www.montgomerycountypets.com/. I'll be posting updates about "Peaches" and her kennel-mates.
I have been making art my entire life and I have been involved in animal rescue since 2001. I have a son at Texas Tech, a daughter in high school and I have two rescue dogs of my own, a scrapbook of my favorite fosters, and enough junk and art supplies to open my own shop.
