Rescue Stories and Inspirational Lines

"Rescue One Until there are None"

JOE'S STORY
Please take the time to read one of our happy ending adoption stories.
Read some of the rescue poems and stories I have found on the net and feel are worth the time to read! 

Hello this is a story written by Brae-Ann Biggs a young girl who together with her family helped change the life of one of our many dogs needing new homes! We can never thank our adoptive families enough for being willing to put the time and energy into rehabilitating these often scared and lonely dogs and puppies that had run out of time. Adoptive families are the people who make these dogs stories into success stories from ones that were tragedies that would end in a vet office. Thank you Brae-Ann!!

There are a lot of high-tech things in the world today.  One of these many things is the computer.  Yes, I knew this was a high-tech device
but, I never knew it could lead you to your new best friend.
I've always wanted a pet but, for one reason or another dog a cute little furry guy that sleeps on the end of your bed every night and
someone to play ball with.  All through my childhood I've had very bad asthma which has prevented me from getting a dog but, then my asthma
started to get better and opportunities arose.
Every one knows that the internet is a very big part of the world today with many great sites it will help you find what you are looking for.
One day I was surfing the internet when I came across a link to Funds For Furry Friends ------which happened to be and all breed dog rescue
right here in Brandon. After all these weeks of looking on Funds For Furry Friends I saw they needed dog walkers.
And after all the loose ends had been tied my Mom and I became volunteers-----official dog walkers!  It was awesome.  It was so fun to
be with the dogs.  I never knew how many dogs there were that didn't have homes.  At that foster house alone there were 6 dogs that needed homes.
After my first dog walking experience I looked at Funds For Furry Friends web site every day until my eyes met her picture.  Her name was
Tally and her description was so perfect for our family. Within 5 minutes I had already fallen I love.  No she wasn't the cutest but,
something about her made my heart stop.  I showed the summary of her to my Mom and my Sister and they fell in love too but, there was still my
Dad to sell.....a whole other problem.
It wasn't that my Dad didn't want a dog, or that he didn't see what we saw in Tally, it was just that he had had dogs before and knew how much
work they are and how they are a lot of responsibility........but, we kept bugging him and before we knew it we were scheduling a meeting with
our soon to be furry friend.
We pulled up at her foster Mom's house and saw a little face pop up in the window.  Tally was SO cute.  We talked it over and we were going to
take our new little friend to our house, for a few hours to get to know her.  When it was about time to take her back to her foster Mom's we
were ALL hooked.
There were so many choices ahead of my family and me.  Yes we did love her so much but there is also a lot of work involved with a little puppy
that still roles in the mud and chews up shoes!
Our last meeting had been delayed because one of the rules of Funds For Furry Friends was that before a dog could be adopted it must be spayed
or neutered. Our visit was held back because her stomach had to heal from her surgery, but once she was better we finally got to see her but,
that wasn't all we were going to be doing.
My parents told my sister and I that we were going to visit Tally one more time before we mad our final decision but, when we got to Tally's
foster house we got a BIG shocker!  We were going to be taking Tally home and she wasn't going back!
We were all so excited.  Especially Tally!  After being stray in the Dauphin area, spending some time in a pound and being at Funds For Furry
Friends she finally had a home, a home with people that loved her.  Once we got her home we had started a new chapter in our lives, a great
chapter at that!
Within a few days after bringing her home the owner/founder of Funds for Furry Friends came to our house to check it out and to let us sign the
adoption papers.  Shauna thought we were a good family for Tally.  We signed the papers and Tally was officially ours.
Tally has definitely changed.  She's grown --------- a lot, become more loving and after Puppy School she's become well behaved and a great girl
to have around.  Yes Puppy School was a lot of work but, she learned so many things.  She listens so well now and she can even shake a paw.
Even though Tally was now in my life I still looked on Funds For Furry Friends every day, and the day I saw Adopted by Tally's name I finally
began to realize what a good thing we had done.
Yes Tally's been a lot of work, and I'm sure that will continue in the future but, I have absolutely no regrets. She's been great to us and
she's changed our lives in such a good way.  It feels so good to know you saved a life and found your new best friend.

A dog sits waiting in the hot summer sun,
Too faithful to leave, too frightened to run.
He's been there for days, with nothing to do
But sit by the road, waiting for you.

He can't understand why you left him that day.
He thought you and he were stopping to play.
He's sure you'll come back and that's why he stays.
How long will he suffer, how many more days?

His legs have grown weak, his throat's parched and dry.
He's sick now from hunger and falls with a sigh.
He lays down his head and closes his eyes.
If you could just see how a waiting dog dies.

Interview at the Dog Pound
As a journalist, I decided to go to the dog pound, and interview some of the “inmates”. I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.

I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up for adoption…IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if “fortunately” is the word to be used here…this is a Canadian establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.

The pound worker led me past a big steel door that says “Employees Only”. “What is in there?” I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where dogs go in, and never return.  We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room. “Go ahead,” the worker said. “They’re all yours.”

PETEY
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots. “Hello?” I said. “May I come in?” He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief. “Enter,” was all he said. I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.  “My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me,” he said, still not looking at me.  “Why are you here Pete?” I asked.
“I am here because Master cannot afford to move to another province. I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?” Pete shivered even more. A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong…so wrong.
“Thank you Pete.” I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his kennel.

POPPER
The kennel next to Pete’s held a very young looking dog. Pure Border Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate.
“Hello. My name’s Popper. He tilted his head. “Are you here to take me home?” “No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “But I would like to talk with you.”
”Sure. What would you like to talk about?” “Popper, how did you come to be in this place?” I asked. Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white coat was shiny and thick. “I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together.” He looked confused. “Why won’t they stay in a group?” he sighed. “So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought me here.”  Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked “Will you please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?” “I will Popper,” I said.

SPARTAN
My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler. He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.  “Hello. Who are you?” he asked. “I am a reporter,” I replied. “May I speak with you for a little while?” ”Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You can come in, I won’t bite,” he said.
“Thank you Spartan. I will.” I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.
“Spartan, why are you here?”  Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.
“Please excuse me,” he said when it passed. “Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it. “Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can’t even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a day when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her. I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be friends with everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he said, I was too spoiled. When people came by to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn’t a bad dog. That made him beat me more.” Spartan’s eyes clouded with grief. “Then he brought me here.”
I reached out and stroked Spartan’s massive gentle head once more. “I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil.” I gave him a kiss and left his kennel. As I walked away, Spartan called out, “What will happen to me, nice lady?”  I shook my head. “I can’t say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope.”

PATSY
I walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the next kennel. “Hello?” I called out. Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other dogs began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.
“Don’t go near her,” a small female voice came from behind me. “She’s mad.” I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell Terrier behind me.
“Thanks for the warning,” I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat. The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.
“Who are you?” “My name is Patsy.” The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting.  “My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn’t bother to look into the type of dog I am.” Patsy heaved a sigh.  “I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie, but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play.” She glanced at her surroundings. “Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like…her.” Patsy looked towards the still growling dog across the way.  “What happened to make her so vicious?” I asked. “From what we could gather,” she replied. “she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbour came by and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace.”
Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then one by one, they went quiet. I whispered to Patsy, “Who is that? Why have all the dogs gone quiet?” Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. “SHE is a Rescuer. Can’t you smell it?” she asked. “Smell what?” I was confused. “Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet.” Patsy looked hopeful. The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan’s cage and spoke quietly to him. “No more beatings my man. No more. You are coming with me. From here on in, it’s all going to get better.” The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight. Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.
“I am so sorry Patsy,” I said in a whisper. “But you are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you will be rescued soon.” Patsy’s brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.

I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home with me and give them the love they deserved.
I stood by the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked by without a word, and stopped at Pete’s kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door. The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say “I’m sorry old boy.” He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog’s head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door.

Copyright
Sally Hull
July 6th/2006
selahv@shaw.ca

BYE BABY 

No more lonely cold nights or hearing that I'm bad 
No more growling belly from the meals I never had. 
No more scorching sunshine with a water bowl that's dry. 
No more complaining neighbors about the noise when I cry. 
No more hearing "shut up", "get down" or "get out of here"! 
No more feeling disliked, only peace is in the air. 
Euthanasia is a blessing, though some still can't see 
why I was ever born If I weren't meant to be. 
My last day of living was the best I ever had. 
Someone held me very close, I could see she was very sad. 
I kissed the lady's face, and she hugged me as she cried. 
I wagged my tail to thank her, then I closed my eyes and died.

Written by an Animal shelter volunteer in Massena, NY

ONE MORE DOG

One Dog Is No Trouble And Two Are So Funny
The Third One Is Easy, The Fourth One's A Honey
The Fifth Is Delightful, The Sixth One's A Breeze
You Find You Can Live With A Houseful With Ease

So How 'Bout Another? Would You Really Dare?
They're Really Quite Easy, But Oh Lord, The Hair!

With Dogs On The Sofa And Dogs On The Bed
And Crates In The Kitchen, Its No Bother You Said
They're Really No Trouble, Their Manners Are Great
What's Just One More Dog And One More Little Crate?

The Sofa Is Hairy, The Windows Are Crusty
The Floor Is All Footprints, The Furniture's Dusty
The Housekeeping Suffers But What Do You Care?
Who Minds A Few Nose prints And A Little More Hair?

So Let's Keep A Puppy, You Can Always Find Room
And A Little More Time For The Dust Cloth And Broom
There's Hardly A Limit To The Dogs You Can Add
The Thought Of A Cutback Sure Makes You Feel Sad

Each One Is Special, So Useful, So Funny
The Food Bill Grows Larger, You Owe The Vet Money
Your Folks Never Visit, Few Friends Come To Stay
Except Other Dog Folks Who Live The Same Way

Your Lawn Has Now Died And Your Shrubs Are Dead Too
Your Weekends Are Busy, Your Off With Your Crew
There's Dog Food And Vitamins, Training And Shots
And Entries And Travel And Motels Which Cost Lots

Is It Worth It You Wonder? Are You Caught In A Trap?
Then That Favourite Comes Up And Climbs In Your Lap
His Look Says You're Special And You Know That You Will
Keep All The Critters In Spite Of The Bill

Some Just For Trialing And Some Just To Breed
And Some Just For Loving, They All Fill A Need

Winter Is A Hassle But The Dogs Love It True
And They Must Have Their Walks Tho' You Are Numb & Blue
Late Evening Is Awful, You Scream And You Shout
At The Dogs On The Sofa Who Refuse To Go Out

The Dogs And The Dog Trials, The Travel, The Thrills
The Work And The Worry, The Pressure, The Bills
The Whole Thing Seems Worth It, The Dogs Are Your Life
They're Charming And Funny And Offset The Strife

Your Lifestyle Has Changed, Things Just Won't Be The Same
Yes Those Dogs Are Addictive And So's The Dog Game!

 Author Unknown (One more dog)

BEFORE I DIE

'Tis lonely here in prison,
I dream of sun, of fields,
I saw them from a window once,
but I don't know how they feel.

I've never known a caress,
a friend, a bone, a toy,
I'd happily companion,
a human girl or boy.

But some men have decided,
with selfishness and greed,
that my fate shall be a cage,
and for my keep, I'll breed.

What should fuel this folly?
My kind may bark in vain.
We care not for your commerce,
and few know of our pain.

We're hidden well from justice,
for our freedom some may cry.
God grant me, please, just one request -
Let me play once before I die.

Jim Willis 2002

MY NAME IS SAM

After I was discharged from the Navy,
Jim and I moved back to Detroit
to use our GI bill benefits to
get some schooling. Jim was going for
a degree in Electronics and I, after
much debating, decided to get mine in
Computer Science. One of the classes
that was a requirement was Speech.

Like many people, I had no
fondness for getting up in front of
people for any reason, let alone
to be the center of attention
as I stuttered my way through some
unfamiliar subject. But I couldn't get
out of the requirement, and so
I found myself in my last
semester before graduation with
Speech as one of my classes.

On the first day of class our
professor explained to us that he was
going to leave the subject manner
of our talks up to us,
but he was going to provide the
motivation of the speech. We would be
responsible for six speeches, each with
a different motivation. For instance our
first speech's purpose was to inform.
He advised us to pick subjects
that we were interested in and
knowledgeable about. I decided
to center my six speeches around
animals, especially dogs.

For my first speech to inform,
I talked about the equestrian
art of dressage. For my speech
to demonstrate, I brought my
German Shepherd, Bodger, to class and
demonstrated obedience commands.
Finally the semester was almost over
and I had but one more
speech to give. This speech
was to take the place of
a written final exam and was
to count for fifty per cent
of our grade. The speeches
motivation was to persuade.

After agonizing over a subject matter,
and keeping with my animal theme,
I decided on the topic of
spaying and neutering pets.
My goal was to try to
persuade my classmates to neuter
their pets. So I started
researching the topic. There was plenty
of material, articles that told
of the millions of dogs and
cats that were euthanized every year,
of supposedly beloved pets that were
turned in to various animal control
facilities for the lamest of reasons,
or worse, dropped off far from
home, bewildered and scared.
Death was usually a blessing.

The final speech was looming closer,
but I felt well prepared.
My notes were full of facts
and statistics that I felt sure
would motivate even the most naive
of pet owners to succumb to
my plea. A couple of days
before our speeches were due, I
had the bright idea of going
to the local branch of the
Humane Society and borrowing a
puppy to use as a sort of
a visual aid. I called the
Humane Society and explained what
I wanted. They were very
happy to accommodate me.
I made arrangements to pick up
a puppy the day before my speech.

The day before my speech,
I went to pick up the puppy.
I was feeling very confident.
I could quote all the statistics
and numbers without ever looking at
my notes. The puppy, I felt,
would add the final emotional touch.
When I arrived at the
Humane Society I was met by
a young guy named Ron. He
explained that he was the public
relations person for the Humane Society.

He was very excited about my
speech and asked if I would
like a tour of the facilities
before I picked up the puppy.
I enthusiastically agreed.

We started out in the reception
area, which was the general public's
initial encounter with the Humane Society.
The lobby was full, mostly with
people dropping off various animals
that they no longer wanted Ron
explained to me that this branch
of the Humane Society took in
about fifty animals a day
and adopted out twenty.

As we stood there I heard
snatches of conversation:

"I can't keep him, he digs
holes in my garden."
"They are such cute puppies,
I know you will have no
trouble finding homes for them."
"She is wild, I can't control her."

I heard one of Humane Society's
volunteer explain to the lady with
the litter of puppies that the
Society was filled with puppies
and that these puppies, being black,
would immediately be put to sleep.
Black puppies, she explained, had little
chance of being adopted.
The woman who brought the puppies
in just shrugged,
"I can't help it," she whined.
"They are getting too big.
I don't have room for them."

We left the reception area.
Ron led me into the staging
area where all the incoming
animals were evaluated for adoptability.
Over half never even made it
to the adoption center.
There were just too many.
Not only were people bringing in
their own animals, but strays were
also dropped off. By law the
Humane Society had to hold a
stray for three days. If the
animal was not claimed by then,
it was euthanized, since there was
no background information on the animal.

There were already too many animals
that had a known history eagerly
provided by their soon-to-be ex-owners.
As we went through the different areas,
I felt more and more depressed.
No amount of statistics could take
the place of seeing the reality
of what this throw-away attitude
did to the living, breathing animal.
It was overwhelming

Finally Ron stopped in front of
a closed door. "That's it," he said,
"except for this."

I read the sign on the door.
"Euthanization Area."
"Do you want to see one?" he asked.
Before I could decline, he interjected,
"You really should.
You can't tell the whole story
unless you experience the end."
I reluctantly agreed.

"Good." He said "I already cleared it
and Peggy is expecting you."
He knocked firmly on the door.
It was opened immediately by a
middle-aged woman in a
white lab coat. "Here's the girl
I was telling you about,"
Ron explained. Peggy looked me over.
"Well I'll leave you here with
Peggy and meet you in the
reception area in about fifteen minutes.
I'll have the puppy ready."
With that Ron departed,
leaving me standing in front of
the stern-looking Peggy.

Peggy motioned me in. As I
walked into the room, I gave
an audible gasp. The room was
small and spartan. There were a
couple of cages on the wall
and a cabinet with syringes
and vials of a clear liquid.
In the middle of the room
was an examining table with a
rubber mat on top. There were
two doors other than the one
I had entered. Both were closed.
One said to the incinerator room,
and the other had no sign,
but I could hear various animals
noises coming from behind
the closed door.

In the back of the room,
near the door that was marked
incinerator were the objects that caused
my distress: two wheelbarrows,
filled with the bodies of
dead kittens and puppies.
I stared in horror.
Nothing had prepared me for this.
I felt my legs grow weak and
my breathing become rapid and shallow.
I wanted to run from that room,
screaming.

Peggy seemed not to notice my
state of shock. She started talking
about the euthanization process,
but I wasn't hearing her.
I could not tear my gaze
away from the wheelbarrows and those
dozens of pathetic little bodies.
Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that
I was not paying attention to her.
"Are you listening?" she asked irritably.
"I'm only going to go through
this once." I tore my gaze
from the back of the room
and looked at her. I opened
my mouth to say something,
but nothing would come out,
so I nodded.

She told me that behind the
unmarked door were the animals
that were scheduled for euthanasia
that day. She picked up a
chart that was hanging from the
wall. "One fifty three is next,"
she said as she looked at
the chart. "I'll go get him."
She laid down the chart on
the examining table and started for
the unmarked door. Before she got
to the door she stopped and
turned around. "You aren't going to
get hysterical, are you?" she asked,
"Because that will only upset
the animals." I shook my head.
I had not said a word since
I walked into that room.
I still felt unsure if would be
able to without breaking down into tears.

As Peggy opened the unmarked door
I peered into the room beyond.
It was a small room, but
the walls were lined and stacked
with cages. It looked like they
were all occupied. Peggy opened the
door of one of the lower
cages and removed the occupant.
From what I could see it
looked like a medium-sized dog.
She attached a leash and ushered
the dog into the room
in which I stood.

As Peggy brought the dog into
the room I could see that the
dog was no more than a puppy,
maybe five or six months old.
The pup looked to be a cross
between a Lab and a German shepherd.
He was mostly black, with a
small amount of tan above his
eyes and on his feet.
He was very excited and bouncing
up and down, trying to sniff
everything in this new environment.

Peggy lifted the pup onto the table.
She had a card in her
hand, which she laid on the
table next to me. I read the card.
It said that number one fifty
three was a mixed Shepherd,
six months old. He was surrendered
two days ago by a family.
Reason of surrender was given as
"jumps on children."
At the bottom was a note
that said "Name: Sam."

Peggy was quick and efficient,
from lots of practice, I guessed.
She laid one fifty three down
on his side and tied a rubber
tourniquet around his front leg.
She turned to fill the syringe
from the vial of clear liquid.
All this time I was standing
at the head of the table.
I could see the moment that one
fifty three went from a curious
puppy to a terrified puppy.
He did not like being held
down and he started to struggle.

It was then that I finally
found my voice. I bent over
the struggling puppy and whispered
"Sam. Your name is Sam."
At the sound of his name
Sam quit struggling. He wagged his
tail tentatively and his soft pink
tongue darted out and licked my hand.
And that is how he spent
his last moment. I watched his
eyes fade from hopefulness
to nothingness.
It was over very quickly.
I had never even seen Peggy
give the lethal shot. The tears
could not be contained any longer.
I kept my head down so
as not to embarrass myself in
front of the stoic Peggy.
My tears fell onto the
still body on the table.

"Now you know," Peggy said softly.
Then she turned away.
"Ron will be waiting for you."
I left the room. Although it
seemed like it had been hours,
only fifteen minutes had gone by
since Ron had left me at the door.

I made my way back to the
reception area. True to his word,
Ron had the puppy all ready to go.
After giving me some instructions
about what to feed the puppy,
he handed the carrying cage over
to me and wished me
good luck on my speech.

That night I went home and
spent many hours playing with the
orphan puppy. I went to bed that
night but I could not sleep.
After a while I got up
and looked at my speech notes
with their numbers and statistics.
Without a second thought,
I tore them up and threw
them away. I went back to bed.
Sometime during the night I finally
fell asleep. The next morning I
arrived at my Speech class with
Puppy Doe. When my turn came
to give my speech. I walked
up to the front the class
with the puppy in my arms.
I took a deep breath, and
I told the class about
the life and death of Sam.
When I finished my speech I
became aware that I was crying.
I apologized to the class and
took my seat. After class the
teacher handed out a critique with
our grades. I got an "A."
His comments said
"Very moving and persuasive."

Two days later, on the last
day of class, one of my
classmates came up to me.
She was an older lady that
I had never spoken to in
class. She stopped me on our way
out of the class room.

"I want you to know that
I adopted the puppy you brought
to class," she said.

"His name is Sam."

Author: Chris Benton
(cbenton@cland-mt.com)

I Found Your Dog Today

I found your dog today.  No he has not been adopted by anyone.  Most of us who live out here own as many dogs as we want,  those who do not own dogs do so because they choose not to.  I know you hoped he would find a good home when you left him out here,  but he did not.  When I first saw him he was miles from the nearest house and he was alone, thirsty,  thin and
limping from a cactus burr in his paw.

How I wish I could have been you as I stood before him.  To have seen his
tail wag and his eyes brighten as he bounded into your arms,  knowing you
would find him,  knowing you had not forgotten him.  To see the
forgiveness in his eyes for the suffering and pain he had known in his never-ending quest to find you... But I was not you.  And despite all my persuasion, his eyes beheld a stranger.  He did not trust,  he would not come.

He turned and continued his journey;  one he was sure would soon bring him
to you.  He does not understand you are not looking for him.  He only
knows you are not there,  he only knows he must find you.  This is more
important than food or water or the stranger who can give him these things.

Persuasion and pursuit seemed futile;  I did not even know his name.  I
drove home,  filled a bucket with water and a bowl with food and returned
to where we had met.  I could see no sign of him,  but I  left my offering
under the tree where he had sought shelter from the sun and a chance to
rest. You see, he is not of the desert.  When you domesticated him, you
took away any instinct of survival out here. His purpose demands that he
travel during the day.  He doesn't know that the sun and heat will claim
his life.  He only knows he has to find you.

I waited hoping he would return to the tree; hoping my gift would build an
element of trust so I might bring him home, remove the burr from his paw,
give him a cool place to lie and help him understand that the part of his
life with you is now over.  He did not return that morning and at dusk the
water and food were still there untouched. And I worried.

You must understand that many people would not even attempt to help your
dog.  Some would run him off,  others would call the county, or the city
pound and the fate you thought you saved him from would have at least
prevented his suffering from days without food and water.

I returned again before dark.  I did not see him.  I went again early the
next morning only to find the food and water still untouched. If only you
were here so you could call his name. Your voice is so familiar to him.  I
began pursuit in the direction he had taken yesterday, doubt
overshadowing my hope of finding him.  His search for you was desperate,
it could take him many miles in 24 hours.

It is hours later and a good distance from where we first met,  but I have
found your dog.  His thirst has been stopped,  it is no longer a torment
to him. His hunger has disappeared,  he no longer aches. The burrs in his
paws bother him no more. Your dog has been set free from his burdens. You see, your dog is dead. He has died,  lonely and alone. I knelt next to him and cursed you for not being here yesterday so I could have seen the glow,  if just for a moment,  in those now vacant eyes. I pray that his journey has taken him to that place I think you hoped he would find.  If only you knew what he went through to reach it.... and I agonize,  for I know,  that if
he were to awaken at this moment,  and (if) I were to be you,  his eyes
would sparkle with recognition and his tail wag with forgiveness.

Gratefully yours,
Melissa Ohlsson
Room to Ride Ranch
LV,  NV   89131

I Want to Quit (This Is What Animal Rescue Is Like) 
By Joan C. Fremo 

I want to quit! 
My health is bad. There are days I feel so terrible that I can barely move. My phone bills are outrageous, and I could have replaced my van with the funds I have spent these last 3 years - on animals that were not my own. 

I want to quit! 
I spend hours and hours emailing about dogs. There may be 500 messages when I start---and at 4 AM, when I finally shut down the computer, there are still 500 emails to be read. 

I want to quit! 
Gosh, I haven't the time left to email my friends. I can't remember the last book I read, and I gave up my subscription to my local newspaper---I used to enjoy reading it, cover to cover, but now it
often ends up in the bottom of the squirrel's cage - unread. 

I want to quit! 
I've spent days emailing what seems like everyone---trying to find a foster home, help for a dog languishing in a shelter - but his time has run out, and the shelter has had to euthanize to make room for the next sad soul. 

I want to quit! 
I swear, I walk away from my computer to stretch my legs - let the dogs out - and come back to find another dog in desperate need. There are times I really dread checking my email. How will I
find the funds, the help, to save yet another dog? 

I want to quit! 
I save one dog, and two more take its place. Now an owner who doesn't want his dog - it won't stay in his unfenced yard. An intact male wanders... This bitch got pregnant by a stray... This 3-month-old pup killed baby chicks...The dog got too big... This person's moving and needs to
give up his pet. I ask you, friends---what town, what city, what state doesn't allow you to own a pet? 

I want to quit! 
I just received another picture, another sad soul with tormented eyes that peer out of a malnourished body. I hear whimpering in my sleep, have nightmares for days... 

I want to quit! 
Many of the "Breed People" don't seem to want to hear about these dogs. Breeders either don't realize, or just don't care, how many dogs of their breed are dying in shelters. 

I want to quit! 
I just got off the phone. "Are you Pyr Rescue? We want to adopt a male to breed to our female."
How many times do I have to explain? I have tried to explain about genetics, about health and pedigrees. I explain that rescue NEUTERS! I usually end up sobbing, as I explain about the vast numbers of animals dying in shelters across the country, as I describe the condition many of these animals are found in. I wonder if they really heard me... 

I want to quit! 
It is not like I don't have enough rescues of my own to worry about---but others have placed dogs improperly and aren't there to advise the new owners. 

I want to quit! 
There ARE some unscrupulous rescues out there---hoarders, collectors, and folks who will short change the care of the animals to make a dollar. They save them all, regardless of temperament, putting fellow rescuer's and adopters at risk by not being truthful. 

I want to quit! 
I have trusted the wrong people -- had faith and heart broken... 

I want to quit! 
AND THEN... 
My dog, Magnus, lays his head in my lap, he comforts me with his gentle presence - and the thought of his cousins suffering stirs my heart. 

I want to quit! 
AND THEN... 
One of those 500 emails is from an adopter. They are thanking me for the most wonderful dog on earth - they cannot imagine life with out their friend - their life is changed, and they are so grateful. 

I want to quit! 
AND THEN... 
One of my adopted Rescues has visited a nursing home. A patient that has spent the last few years unable to communicate, not connecting - Lifts his hand to pat the huge head in his lap, softly speaks his first words in ages -  to this gentle furchild. 

I want to quit! 
AND THEN... 
A Good Samaritan has found and vetted a lost baby, "I can't keep him, but I'll take care of him until you find his forever home." 

I want to quit! 
AND THEN... 
"Jamie took his first steps holding on to our Pyr." "Joan, you should see this dog nursing this hurt kitten!" "I was so sick, Joan, and he never left my side..." 

I want to quit! 
AND THEN... 
I get an email from a fellow rescuer, "Haven't heard from you in a while---you OK? You know I think of you..." 

I want to quit! 
AND THEN... 
A dozen rescuers step up to help, to transport, to pull, and to offer encouragement. I have friends I have never seen, but we share tears, joys, and everything in between. I am not alone. I am blest
with family of the heart, my fellow Rescuers. Just days ago it was a friend who shared her wit and wisdom, whose late night email lifted my heart. Sometimes it is friends who only have time to forward you a smile. Often, it is my friends who forward me the notices of dogs in need. There are
Rescuers who see a flailing transport and do everything they can do find folks to pull it together for you. Rescuers who'll overnight or foster your Dog while you seek transport. There are Rescuers not used to or comfortable with your breed, but who put aside their discomfort to help.
There are Rescuers whose words play the music of our hearts. Foster homes that love your Rescue, and help to make them whole again---body and spirit. Foster homes that fit your baby in, though it may not be their breed. Rescuers whose talents and determination give us tools to help us.
Rescuers we call on for help in a thousand ways, who answer us, who hear our pleas. Rescuers who are our family, our strength, our comrades in battle. I know I cannot save every Pyr in need. I know my efforts are a mere drop in a sea. I know that if I take on just one more---those I 
have will suffer. 

I want to quit! 
But I won't. When I feel overwhelmed, I'll stroke my Magnus's head while reading my fellow Rescuers emails. I'll cry with them, I'll laugh with them---and they will help me find the strength to go on. 

I want to quit! 
But not today. 
There's another email, another dog needing Rescue. 

This piece is dedicated, with love and gratitude, to all my fellow Rescuers. 

Joan 

 

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
With no thought of the dog filling their head.
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Knew he was cold, but didn't care about that.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Figuring the dog was free of his chain and into the trash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Santa Claus - with eyes full of tears.
He unchained the dog, once so lively and quick,
Last years Christmas present, now painfully thin and sick..
More rapid than eagles he called the dogs name.
And the dog ran to him, despite all his pain;
"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONDER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Let's find this dog a home where he'll be loved by all."
I knew in an instant there would be no gifts this year,
For Santa Claus had made one thing quite clear,
The gift of a dog is not just for the season,
We had gotten the pup for all the wrong reasons.
In our haste to think of the kids a gift
There was one important thing that we missed.
A dog should be family, and cared for the same
You don't give a gift, then put it on a chain.
And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight,
"You weren't given a gift! You were given a life!"

Author Unknown

STARFISH

One child came upon another child on the beach one day. 
The second child was walking along, looking down,
then every few feet would bend down, pick something up out of the sand, and toss it into the ocean. 
The first child asked what kind of game this was. 
The second child replied, "I'm saving starfish." 
The first child was incredulous. "Are you kidding? There are too many!
What are you going to do? Spend all day and all night out here, tossing starfish back into the ocean? 
You'll never save them all. And anyway, in the grand scheme of life, they're just starfish. It doesn't matter if they live or die." 
The second child scooped another starfish up from the sand, considered it briefly, then hurled it into the ocean. 

"It mattered to that one." 

Author Unknown

TRAY'S POEM

One by One, they pass by my cage, 
Too old, too worn, too broken, no way. 
Way past his time, he can't run and play. 
Then they shake their heads slowly and go on their way. 
A little old man, arthritic and sore, 
It seems I am not wanted anymore. 
I once had a home, I once had a bed, 
A place that was warm, and where I was fed. 
Now my muzzle is gray, and my eyes slowly fail. 
Who wants a dog so old and so frail? 
My family decided I didn't belong, 
I got in their way, my attitude was wrong. 
Whatever excuse they made in their head, 
Can't justify how they left me for dead. 
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day, 
The younger dogs get adopted away. 
When I had almost come to the end of my rope, 
You saw my face, and I finally had hope. 
You saw through the gray, and the legs bent with age, 
And felt I still had life beyond this cage. 
You took me home, gave me food and a bed, 
And shared your own pillow with my poor tired head. 
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low, 
You love me so dearly, you want me to know. 
I may have lived most of my life with another, 
But you outshine them with a love so much stronger. 
And I promise to return all the love I can give, 
To you, my dear person, as long as I live. 
I may be with you for a week, or for years, 
We will share many smiles, you will no doubt shed tears. 
And when the time comes that God deems I must leave, 
I know you will cry and your heart, it will grieve. 
And when I arrive at the Bridge, all brand new, 
My thoughts and my heart will still be with you. 
And I will brag to all who will hear, 
Of the person who made my last days so dear. 

Leslie Whalen

Unwanted

Come all yee that are unwanted
Find solace at our steps 
we shall see if we can recover
That which was lost

Weary wonderer
Let not thy path be trod alone
For thou art loved by many
We shall not see you perish

We who have yet a soul
Who value God's earth
We shall take you in
Raise you up again

Give life meaning for you
For if I should perish tomorrow
I could not die happy
Knowing that I had not done 

All that could be done
Would that all humanity
Might rescue just one

Those who possessed you
Know not what they miss
A smile, your warmth, a puppy kiss

Author Unknown

 
 Shelter Dog asks God...
 
 Dear God,
 

What is "Time"? I hear the sadness in the voices of workers here. They say my "Time is up", that they have to make room for yet another dog. My "Time" is up. I don't know what that means, God. I only know that my new friends are so sad, and the more I wag my tail---the harder I try to make them feel better---the sadder they become.

I know I have heard that word "Time" before, but I don't understand. When I was younger, my people would say "Time to play!" They would throw the ball, and I would run fast. Sometimes I brought it back to them, but other times we'd end up chasing each other having fun.
 
I remember "Time to eat". My people would put down a bowl of food, and I would enjoy dinner, wagging my tail in joy. There was also "Time for your walk. My boy would put my leash on, and we would go walking together, visiting the neighborhood and enjoying each other's company. When I was younger I thought "Time" meant fun. Or maybe Love? I don't understand.
 

"Time" must mean something else, but how can it change, God? Before I came here, I heard my people say, "No time to feed you now boy. Later, when I get home." Sometimes my family would forget, and there was no food in my bowl. Does "Time" mean when my belly hurts? My people said there was no time for walks. I tried to hold it all day long-- but God, I just couldn't anymore. When I finally had to go, it made my family very angry. Does "Time" mean anger? Or maybe Loneliness?

My family said they didn't have "Time". They didn't have time to play, or time to take me to the vet, or time to go for walks. They didn't have "Time" so they brought me here. Maybe I was right... They said they didn't have time, and if "Time" means Love, how did they lose it?  Did I do something wrong?

God, I think my new friends are sending me to you. Do you have "Time"? May I sit on the couch? Am I a good Dog, God?  Is it "Time"?
 
One of the most important things we can give our Pets is "Time". The time to love them, care for them, and train them. Animal Shelters and Humane Societies across the country are filled with Pets whose families didn't have "Time". Every year, the "Time is up" for 12 million companion Pets. Do you have the "Time" to make a difference?

 

Author: Joan C. Fremo - Published on: July 29, 2001

 

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