Counting My Blessings...

Yes, I've moved...and yes we've started fostering again...and I'll post on those pups sometime soon, I hope.  But this is something that can't wait.

A couple days ago, my friend and fellow Doghousing admin, Lisa, re-posted a blog (warning, strong language) about the author's dogs being "jerks", and how she would never want it any other way.  That blog really struck a cord with me given the events of this week.  My dogs can definitely be "jerks" and sometimes I question my sanity putting up with them.  But after what happened over the weekend, I'm just fine with them being super "jerks" the rest of their lives.

I guess should start from the beginning.  On Sunday morning, just before Boscoe's meet and greet, Tucker had some sort of neurological episode.  We were all outside, and the three dogs were playing.  Tucker ran up on the deck and froze.  Wouldn't move.  I led him inside, and he was still off.  Eventually he went behind the couch (where he never goes), in front of the front door and laid down.  He wouldn't move.  Wouldn't lift his head when I called his name.  His breathing was shallow and quick.  I tried to pick him up and he was completely limp.

So.  Freaking. Scary

I was in full on panic mode.  My first thought was bloat, but that didn't really seem to make sense.  I called my friend Alicia to come over and help me get him to the vet.  I opened the front door and he finally got up.  It seemed like it was forever, but likely was only a couple of minutes.  He was still out of it, but seemed to be doing better.

She took us to Banfield across the street, and we saw a very nice vet, Dr. Long.  She gave him an exam, tested his vitals, etc. and couldn't find anything immediately wrong.  I described what happened, and she thought he likely had some sort of seizure.  It wasn't a major, Grand Mal seizure, but likely a partial or frontal seizure, which presents itself similar to a human fainting.  Since he had never had an episode like this before, she suggested taking him home, keeping him stress free, and watching him.  Boscoe went home that afternoon, so I was hopeful things would be back to normal.

My parents and brother came over for dinner that afternoon and said he seemed normal, just really tired.  I thought we were in the clear...

That night, after everyone left, things got weird.  And scary. He was agitated and unhappy.  He seemed like he couldn't get comfortable.  He looked at me like he had no idea who I was.  He wouldn't let Ollie anywhere near him or anything he had.  When it was time for bed, he was growling and wouldn't let me near him.  Didn't want to be touched.  Ollie was hiding in the corner, scared.  Insert SUPER panic mode.  I had a total melt down.  I was sure this was the beginning of the end.  Note: I know I pushed him..he's always been a cranky dog when he's tired or not feeling well, and I was being a helicopter mom.  Oops.

I finally just left him alone, cried myself to sleep, and said many many prayers.  At some point, he got up in bed with Ollie and me.  I woke up feeling a little better, but he was still not himself that morning.  I put a call in to the vet.  As the morning went on, he seemed to be doing better, so I went to work.  I got home to two wiggle butts excited to see me.  We went outside, Tucker played with his ball, did his business, etc.  He was still a little weak (had trouble holding his leg up when he was "marking" his territory), but overall seemed to be making progress.  The vet called back that night, and was surprised we were still having issues, but since he was getting better to continue watching him.  Apparently most dogs come out of things fairly quickly, but the effects can last up to a week.  If things didn't get better or got worse, we needed to go see her immediately.  Monday night, he slept by me all night.  I was finally feeling like we were on our way to being better.

Tuesday morning came and we all wanted to be lazy, but we got up and got around.  Typical morning.  I went to work confident things were finally almost normal again.  And I was right!

Tuesday evening, I had my boy back!!

Throw that ball, Mama!!

Words cannot express how happy I was to finally see the light in his eyes again.  He'd been walking around like a zombie for almost two days.  After lots of playtime, he finally curled up next to me an fell asleep on my chest.  Best. Feeling. Ever.

Finally...

Those that know me well, know this boy is my world.  He's the love of my life in dog form.  Tucker changed my life.  He gave me a purpose.  He's been by my side through the demise of an awful relationship... he was there when we had to move back in with my parents...he was there through the absolute worst heartbreak of my life, which eventually led to me finding the love of my life.  He was there through the awful house hunting process, and then became the "man of the house" when we finally moved.  He's my everything.  His little brother worships the ground he walks on.  I just wanted him to be back to himself.  To be nuzzling me every 30 seconds with his spiky ball.  To jump on the ball the minute I make a move to pick it up.  I wanted to be smothered in sloppy kisses, and to have 85 pounds of dog laying on me.  I couldn't be more excited to have that damn spiky ball getting mud all over my white jacket.

This morning (Wednesday), and things seem to finally be back to normal, and I couldn't be happier.  I still plan to take a break from fostering for a while.  TJ moves on Friday, and we need to keep things as stress free as possible.

As I mentioned above, we moved in August to a super cute house in Waldo.  Here are a few pics of my boys enjoying their new digs.   I promise I'll write soon on our first two fosters...

XOXO,
Ashley

Just hanging out on the new deck...

Ollie keeping watch over his kingdom

Tucker and his ball

Taking a walk through the park around the corner

Ollie keeping watch over the front yard

My handsome boy

WHY?!?

The million dollar question...WHY?  I get this question so often when people find out I volunteer in rescue.  Usually I'm quickly able to answer...I love dogs.  I love the gratitude dogs give when they know they've been saved.  I love being able to save them from awful circumstances.  Even though I love every dog I come across, I really don't want to keep them all, like some think.  The feeling of seeing your foster dog in his/her new home is easily one of the best "highs" I've ever experienced.  Rescue is awesome.  The sense of community and family is incredible.

But what happens when love isn't enough? What happens when they aren't saved in time?  How do you keep going when all you see is sadness?

This week rescue has been rough.  Not one day went by I didn't question humanity.   Because there were SO many bad things...I'll only list a few:

1. "loving" foster family/volunteer dumps emaciated, flea ridden, dehydrated, super sick dog back in rescue.  Next day he has surgery...two days later, he has to be helped to Rainbow Bridge because he's in multi- organ failure.
2. same "loving" family ties brother of super sick dog to the dump post at their local humane society in awful shape...he passes none of their temperament tests (who would?!?) and is also helped to Rainbow Bridge when he is deemed unadoptable due to aggression.  The AMAZING rescue that was trying to help the dog above even offered to take him.
3. senior beagle is dumped at the shelter a year after her family "searched for her for months" and was reunited on the news.  Clearly they didn't care like they said they did...
4. dog thieves are going around my hometown are stealing dogs and doing god knows what to them...selling them, breeding them, using them to fight.  About a mile from my house.
5. 3 pound Yorkie is left out in the cold outside the KC Shelter in a kennel with toys and food during an ice storm. (thankfully was found by a rescuer and will soon be up for adoption.
6. a beyond emaciated great dane found his way in to rescue after being surrendered (with coaxing) to Spay & Neuter KC.  Erin's Midwest Animal ResQ will get him healthy and put him up for adoption.

Unfortunately, I could keep going...

So back to my point...WHY?  After a week like this, where I spent my entire Friday at my desk crying, plus an hour at the gym lifting weights and crying.  Why do I keep doing it?  Why endure the heartache and the tears?  I've actually been questioning this a lot this week.  The "people" (I use that term loosely) described above have truly made me question humanity.  I know people can be jerks...but how can you KNOWINGLY hurt another living, breathing creature?  I will NEVER understand it.

I'll be the first to admit...it's usually not THIS bad.  Yes, when it rains it pours.  And yes, there are awful situations, and we rally together to fix them.  But this week has been one thing after another after another.  My heart hurts.  It LITERALLY hurts.  I've cried over dogs I've never met, with people I don't even know.  But that's what rescue does...it connects you to people instantly.

My heart breaks for the Hands, Hearts, and Paws family.  They welcomed Blinkin back in, and were ready to do anything and everything to save his life.  If love alone could have saved him, he would still be here...They were ready to welcome his brother Winchester in to rescue also.  Like I mentioned above, he didn't make it either.  Their former "family" (again used VERY loosely) failed them.  And once again, rescuers were left to pick up the pieces.  Because they were given to the humane society/returned to rescue, legally, nothing can be done.

I wish I could wrap my brain around it...I wish I understood.  But I don't.  These aren't two dogs who have lived a full happy life and are ready to cross the bridge due to old age.  These were two family dogs...one only a year old that lived a life of hell at the hands of a human being.  Those two knew more love in the last few days than they ever knew in the "home" they lived in.

I'm sorry...I'm rambling.  Like I said, I can't wrap my brain around it.  I will never understand it.  But this gets me back to the WHY.  I do this because of shit bag owners that dump their helpless dogs.  I do this because there is NOTHING better than seeing a scared, hungry, confused dog finally come out of his shell and learn to actually be a dog.  I do this because my boys are incredible foster brothers and love showing shelter dogs how great it is to have a home.  I do this because if nothing else, I can love the dog that was tossed aside for a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, etc., and send that dog to the bridge knowing what love is.

Rescue is not for the faint of heart...I've met some of the most incredibly strong people in the two years I've been doing this.  I constantly question my own strength.  It's tough.  It's heartbreaking.  But we keep trudging on.  The dogs need us.  And we need them.  And after AWFUL storms like this...there is ALWAYS good to come of it.  It's hard to see at the time, but I know it's there.

With HHP, their strength and dedication is so admirable.  They have truly come together as a family, and have people all over the country pulling for them.  Blinkin and Winchester did not die in vain.  I have no doubt they are at the bridge together, pain free, having the time of their lives.  And everyone who knew them, and knew of them, will always remember these handsome brothers, and many lives will be saved in their memory.  In fact, I found out tonight, as Blinkin was being helped to the bridge, his foster sister was giving birth to seven happy, healthy pups.  Life goes on...and Blinkin and Winchester will live in all of them.

I guess my point is, I can't really answer the WHY.  It's a calling.  It's a feeling in my gut and in my heart that I just know I am finally doing what I was put on this earth to do.  I know I can't save them all.  I never once thought I could.  I also know I can't change the world...but it's not about that.  It's for that one dog, changing their world.

In Loving Memory of Blinkin and Winchester... 1/31/2014

RIP Sweet Blinkin