tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92002332847872603002024-02-20T02:10:32.833-05:00Pawfect Match RescuePawfect Match Rescue (www.pawfectmatch.org) is a non-profit all-breed dog rescue based from Holly Springs, North Carolina, dedicated to rescuing dogs from shelters and matching with their forever home. PMR was incorporated in February of 2006.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-49052167441072514902015-08-26T14:28:00.000-04:002015-08-26T14:28:13.557-04:00Are there Deer Running on Ocean Beaches Across the Rainbow Bridge?<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
Are there deer and
ocean beaches across the Rainbow Bridge?</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
It was late June of
2007 when I received a call from a phone number that I recognized as a Houston,
TX area code (I grew up in Houston and Spring, and still have family there, so
I know the area codes there). Rather
than a family member, it was someone vacationing on the North Carolina shore,
all the way from Texas. They called me because they had watched a dog roaming
free for days, very friendly, but obviously hungry and homeless. They were
preparing to drive back to Raleigh to catch the flight home from RDU to Texas,
and wanted to bring this dog to a rescue. They had found us through PetFinder and the recommendations of a local vet. </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
They described a
tricolor hound, male, adult but young, and quite friendly. They wanted to bring him to Raleigh and drop
him with our rescue on their way to the airport. At the time, well at most
times, we were quite full, and did not really have a place to put him for
foster. They were disappointed, but they were also ready with a response. They
offered to make a sizable donation to our rescue if we were willing to take
him in - that is how much they liked this dog! I relented, and we agreed on a
place, date, and time.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
So, on July 1, 2007,
I met these kind folks from Houston in a parking lot in Apex, NC, and met Max
for the first time. Yep, he was young, friendly, and a little malnourished. Pretty
obviously a Treeing Walker Coonhound. Looking at his teeth, we guessed that he
was about two years old.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/filestore.rescuegroups.org/898/pictures/animals/237/237204/388040_466x349.jpg" /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
At the time, we did not have a hound-lover foster
home, and hounds can be notoriously challenging to adopt out. So, Max went to a foster home where he could
get some socialization with several other foster dogs, and we put his profile
on our web site.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
It was not long
before the foster was telling us what a horrible dog Max was. Ill-behaved.
Loud, Obnoxious. Disruptive. A Pain in the Ass. The foster really disliked him, and doubted he would ever be adoptable. So, I was rather hesitant when Caroline, a coworker I admired, asked me
about Max in November. She had two young kids, a cat, a nice house, and no
fenced yard. It did not seem like a likely match, but Caroline wanted to try. </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
So, Max and I headed
out for his meet and greet with his best leash and collar. He was a hit right
away. It was so heartwarming to see the light in the smiles and the eyes of the
kids, and Max just ate it up. He did not
seem to care much about the cat (although the cat was, of course, purrturbed),
but he certainly did want the cat food and those special kitty treats they
leave in the litter box. After everyone met and some walking around, Caroline
and her family decided that Max was one of them. They adopted Max on November
15 and made Max a part of the family.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
I was worried, as
were others in the Rescue, that Max would proved to be too difficult. Indeed,
Max started having tummy problems right away, but Caroline stuck with him, and
worked with the vet to get his tummy settled down. It was quite surprising how quickly
he settled into his new family, his new home. It seemed like he just knew he
was where he belonged. I heard occasional stories from Caroline about Max
hijinks - wanting to join them in bed, the play times, the goofiness, the walks and runs, and trying like
anything to get to the cat goodies. The pictures were adorable, and he was
clearly adored. </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
I still remember the
day that Caroline told me about Max and the SUV. She would pack up the kids and
take them to school, and Max got to go. One day, Max slipped out the side door
to the garage, and there was panic. But, Max jumped right up into the SUV and
assumed his position - he was ready to go! From that day on, he was a champion car rider.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
Caroline walked and
ran with Max just about every day. They live in an area with lots and lots of
natural area nearby, literally across the street, and Max just loved to take
short jaunts into the woods, chase a few deer, then happily trot back to mom. Caroline
told me about one time when they were in a nearby field when a neighbor rode up
on her quarterhorse. Max immediately took position next to the horse and
assumed the stance you would expect of a hound ready for the hunt. He was ready
to go!</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
Over the years,
Caroline shared lots of pictures of Max. In costumes, with the kids, with the
family, and on the beach. The beach pictures really touched my heart, because
that is where he came from to find this special family half way across the
state. He had found heaven on earth.</div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/filestore.rescuegroups.org/898/pictures/animals/237/237204/633918_350x289.jpg" /> </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
My heart sunk when
Caroline messaged me a little while ago to tell me that they had received a
diagnosis of untreatable stomach cancer for Max. He was being kept as comfortable and pain free as possible. Yesterday morning
Caroline told me that Max had passed quietly and peacefully in his sleep. Our
best guess is that he had lived ten years - and eight of those in the most
loving place any hound could hope for. </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
I grieve for
Caroline and her family, and hope that they regularly visit their memories,
pictures, and videos to remember what a great, goofy, lovable boy they rescued
and loved, and to know that they made all the difference in the world to Max. </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
I hope that there are plenty of playful deer running on ocean beaches across the Rainbow Bridge,
Max. You deserve that.</div>
Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-71898731161128855052014-10-26T23:19:00.001-04:002014-10-27T07:58:19.279-04:00An Angel's Heart<b>An Angel's Heart</b><br />
<br />
Almost every day that we share our homes with our companion dogs, and with rescued foster dogs, we learn something new. One major lesson happened in 2005. And, as is frequently the case, the lesson giver was a combination of our dogs and our good friend Molly Stone. At that time we had our dominant girl, Kiko, who was our first Husky - woolly, black and white, with blue eyes and a fun, mischievous personality , we had Nutmeg, a young crazy red and white Husky (OK, crazy and red&white is redundant), we had Saki, our sweet loving lazy black lab, we had Carolina, our sweet giant black and white Husky girl, and we had Lily, a headstrong GSD/Husky/Something mix. Kiko and Lily were starting to get into fights, and the fights were getting worse, and both Aida and I had been to the doctor at least once each to get sewn back together for unwisely sticking our hands in the middle of it. We asked Molly for help, and she came over to share her wisdom and some of our wine and steak (we got the better bargain). After just a short while, Molly said "That's a girl right? And that one? And that one? And this one too? Actually all of them?" We shrugged and said "Yep". Molly replied "Well, you might have a little too much estrogen here, you might want to balance this out some. Oh, and probably separate Lily and Kiko since they are way past the kiss and makeup stage." We said "You mean, get a male dog?" She said "Yep."<br />
<br />
So, as fate would have it, our friend Dawn at the Siberian rescue, had a cute young all white blue-eyed male Sibe in need of fostering. We took Molly's advice and brought a male into the mix. He was our foster. And then quickly our failed foster (that means we kept him).<br />
<br />
Enter Gabriel.<br />
<br />
He was not very big, he was only a pup, but then again for his age he was big. He was sweet, and a little shy. I cannot be certain, but I think I am the one who suggested Gabriel because he was like a shiny white angel. The crazy thing was that the girls settled down almost instantly. It's not like Gabe exuded maleness - he certainly did not seem to. But just being the male there settled everyone down. He quickly fit it and found his place with the Girls.<br />
<br />
Gabriel was always… different. Male Siberians are (according to the AKC) supposed to top out at about 55 pounds. Gabe stopped growing at about 85 pounds. He was big, and had a huge chest. All white, with blue eyes - you could not miss him. His first snow - you would have thought that Happiness Himself was reincarnated in Gabriel. He loved that snow. His howl was different, too. When the other Sibes started a howlfest, Meg would lead the way with her sonorous tone, Carolina would bring in that mellow Alto on the low end, Kiko would ring through with her gorgeous wailing Soprano… and then Gabe offered what I can only describe as counterpoint. Sometimes bass, sometimes tenor, always off beat, not a bark, not a howl, but always the buffoon. It was hysterical to watch and listen, and he seemed to truly enjoy it when I joined in.<br />
<br />
Gabe's tail was always wound too tight. The standard Sibe has a gorgeous crescent curl, tip up high. Gabe had a corkscrew that went just past a full turn. Thick and luxurious, but would a little too tight.
<br />
<br />
Gabe smiled. A lot.<br />
<br />
His spot was our master bed. When the time came he let us know. If we were sleeping in on a weekend, he stood at the foot and whined in his unique way until we cleared a runway for his immense frame. He would leap up, turn once, stretch - that is a LOOOOOONG stretch, and settle into his throne. I do know that he went outside to play and eliminate, but any other time you'd find Gabe on the bed. Large and in Charge. He would NOT, however, sleep on the bed if humans were on the bed. His bed or their bed, but not at the same time. BUT, if there was not a no-slip rug on the floor at the foot of the bed, he would not jump up. He needed that runway with the secure launch pad at the end. Getting down was the same, but he'd give in eventually if the rug was not in the right spot.<br />
<br />
Gabe never did like Sit. He would do it, if you asked more than once, but he took his time and did not stay there long. He was also a master of the frog style of laying down, with four limbs akimbo.
<br />
<br />
Gabriel had a sweet spot on his chest where I could skritch and always get the hind leg going AND the neck stretch for a bonus.<br />
<br />
He LOVED to play slap the bed with me. If he was on the bed - scratch that, when he was on the bed and I approach, he would often mewl at me, lift his paw up in the air, and smack the bed. I would rush up and smack the bed near his paws, and he would smack some more. Sometimes he would get me, sometimes I would get him. This always ended with lots of fur rubbing, skritching, hugs, and kisses. Oh, and he gave copious sloppy kisses!<br />
<br />
Gabe was a shy one. If he was on the bed when someone new arrived in the house, he would usually howl/whine/barkish from the bed. If he was outside, he would poke his head in, or come just into the breakfast nook, to see who had arrived. He would almost never approach a new or unknown person right away, he'd let the girls to the greeting. Instead he would typically employ the Ewok Maneuver. This is shifting the weight back and forth from side to side, making comically fierce (or in Gabe's case, whining) noises for a short while, then calmly observing, and finally sauntering around behind the new arrival, getting a good sniff, and then rubbing on you to leave large amounts of beautiful white fur on your clothing to let you know that you have been accepted. If he REALLY liked you, he would come up from behind you, push his head between your thighs, and then look up at you lovingly with the back of his head pressed back against your crotch. Given Gabe's height, this may or may not have been comfortable. But he also smiled at you from that awkward position.<br />
<br />
Gabriel was the first dog I ever knew without a doubt to be gay. Spanky was his partner. They hung out on the bed together and were practically inseparable. As much as losing Gabe has crushed Aida and me and left holes in our hearts, it has really hit Spanky hard. Spanky is extremely, painfully, shy of humans, and Gabe gave him confidence. Now Spanky won't let us near him, again, and it doubles the pain to see him scared again.<br />
<br />
We teased about Gabriel being gay, for a number of reasons that sprung from his personality, but he clenched it one day. We had just admitted a couple into the house to meet a cute pitty pup they wanted to adopt. This was a gay male couple, obviously in love with each other, and as friendly as you could ask for. While I was in the process of explaining that the giant white Sibe in the other room would likely ignore them but would later check them out (see Ewok Maneuver above), Gabe jumped off of the bed, ran directly up to them, quickly got behind them, pushed his way between them, and lifted his head up lovingly, claiming eternal friendship. We all laughed. Gabriel did that a lot - made us laugh. No doubt, Gabriel was gay and proud.<br />
<br />
When he was younger, we used to worry if Gabe would be man enough for the pack. He just did not seem to have the masculinity we had convinced ourselves was needed to be The Dude in the pack. This was especially true when we brought Killer (not his real name) into the house as a foster. Killer was a solid, mature, large, dominant, confident, linbacker hulk of a red and white male husky. He made it clear from the start that he was going to be boss. He was a handful, and once even challenged Aida directly. He is the only dog she's ever known that put his mouth on her with the intent to do harm, or at least dominate. He was a Tough Dude. I happened to be in the back yard one day when Killer was making dominance moves on the Husky girls, and Gabe was acting rather distressed. At this point Gabe was barely a year old, full grown but lanky and not filled in to his frame yet. At one point Gabe moved in between Killer and Nutmeg, and Killer showed all the signs that It Was On - stance, teeth, low growl. I was rather worried. Gabe cowered, dropping his head down, bending a knee, leaning away from Killer. Oh Great, I thought. Our new male is a wuss. Killer, naturally, brought his two front legs up off the ground and lunged at Gabe - and MISSED! It was a feint! Gabe had bluffed Killer, lured him in, jumped up and toward Killer, and came down full force on Killer's head and shoulders. Gabe rolled him and then pinned him, showing him substantial pearly white teeth and a very puffed up main. Killer peed himself, and never messed with Gabe's Girls again. By the way, Killer got a Siberian Husky's dream home in Connecticut shortly after that, and is about the happiest dog on the planet. But Gabe was The Man from that point on.<br />
<br />
Gabe took his job seriously. He counted puppies when we brought them into the back yard, like it was his responsibility. Of course, once we got past four or five he was lost, and you could see the confusion, or frustration, in his eyes. But he tried dammit. He kept watch on the youngins.<br />
<br />
One of Gabe's favorite things to do was to clean. Auntie Gabe we called him. His BFF Emma, the blue pit, would climb up in bed next to him and he would clean her, especially on the chest. For a long time, she had rashes, and we think he helped - alleviating the itching, and doing the medicinal magic that is part of the canine kiss. But Emma was not why he was famous for cleaning, or why we called him Auntie Gabe. Gabriel loved puppies. LOVED puppies. Well, until they started jumping on him and chewing on him while he was sleeping. But when they were smaller than that, he LOVED cleaning puppies. We've whelped more than a dozen litters in this house, and Gabe loved few things more than taking a spot on the couch and cleaning babies. We would carry one to him, and he would happily clean the pup, stimulating it to eliminate, and clean up the pup like the world's best momma dog. Oh, and the cleaning wasn't just magical for the pups. Many times I've seen him in the backyard after a rain, with North Carolina's trademark Red Mud up to his armpits, and think oh damn, I am going to have to cover the couch and get the mop out. But five minutes later I would see a shiny white Sibe laying calmly on the bed looking at like "Wha?" I still don't know how he did that.<br />
<br />
Gabe had a huge chest, much much larger than a typical Sibe. Dogs with huge chests tend to live shorter lives than those with smaller chests, proportionally. We think that maybe that is why Gabe's heart gave out on him. It was an exciting trip - he and the girls were in the truck heading for a photo shoot. Maybe it was the excitement that put too much strain on his heart. Me, I think it was something else. You see, there are about a hundred or more puppies out there that have part of Gabriel's heart, along with their clean butt. Between all the humans he met, and Spanky, and a hundred or more pups that he has given parts of his heart to, there just was not enough of his own heart left to keep up with that giant angel of a dog.<br />
<br />
If you have adopted a puppy from Pawfect Match Rescue and Rehabilitation, there is a very good chance that you too have part of Gabriel's heart. Keep it well, and remember our giant white angel. We miss you more than words can say, sweet Gabriel. Namaste' and play well on the other side of that Rainbow Bridge.
Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-57982010273768028612011-03-08T20:47:00.002-05:002011-03-08T22:10:31.964-05:00A little raised tail"Funny, something as little as a raised tail could make us all so happy."<br /><br />Aida said that about Maui's happy tail being raised above her body in that characteristic half moon curve. The sign of a happy husky.<br /><br />I noticed the same thing in another husky just the other day. Little Perseus had raised his little bottle-brush of a fluffy husky tail, a sign of happiness, but more importantly, a sign of having found his inner Siberian Husky.<br /><br />As does many of our stories, this one starts with an email. An animal shelter we have worked with in the past contacted us about pulling two Siberian Huskies that they received as strays. One was a red and white pup that they had seen before, and was not in good shape - malnourished, losing his hair. The other was a black and white boy, older, maybe 2 or 3 years old - healthy. Both boys were long haired, what we call 'woollies'. We responded that we were full at the moment, but wanted to be kept informed.<br /><br />Well, only two days later, they told us that the pup had had a major 'blow out', bad diarrhea and vomiting, and that he tested strongly positive for parvo (canine parvovirus type 2, very deadly for puppies). The shelter was going to put him down. Worse, they were going to euthanize the older guy too, just because he was exposed. Even though adults almost NEVER succumb to parvo.<br /><br />Aida did not hesitate. After securing my agreement, she told them we would take both dogs. It was not good timing for me, as my day was planned from opening to close with meetings and calls. But we got transport arranged, and I found the time to meet Heather to take them on to our vet. The big guy was easy, even if he had that awful shelter stink. The pup, though, was pitiful. I had seen this before, and I really did not know if he would even make it to the vet.<br /><br />He did make it to the vet. I handed him over, limp and full of mange and worms, thinking I would never see him again. I do that - prepare for the worst - so when the bad news comea the impact is lessened.<br /><br />Later that day the vet confirmed that it was parvo, and they had him hooked up. Fluids, antibacterials, anti-emetics, anti-diarrheals, supplemental nutrition. I gritted my teeth. and expected the worse.<br /><br />Next morning, I called, and held my breath. He was still with us. Really? Wow, I did not expect that, and I was elated. Cautiously. Later that day the vet told us that his white blood cell count was 124. Normal is 8,000 or so. WBC of 124 pretty much means no immune system. Any bacteria could take hold and it would be over, fast and ugly.<br /><br />But the next morning he was still with us. And the next. And the next. Aida decided his name was Perseus. He was certainly heroic, and proving to be invincible. Perseus spent 8 days with the vet before convincing us he was ready for his foster home.<br /><br />What a horribly unattractive mess he was. And stinky too. Aida must have given him four baths in his first two days home, and cut almost all of his matted fur off. Well, what was left of it - he was eaten up with mange (the non-contagious version). His face and butt and parts of his back, belly, and legs were pink and scabby, even bleeding in some places. He looked like a baboon, actually. <br /><br />He walked with a hunched back, tail down, head down. He was clearly not happy, and did not eat well. He was still vomiting. We took him back the vet a few times, got his belly shaved for ultrasounds, and finally got him eating again. Another vet got him started with ivermectin for the mange, and antibiotics for his skin infections.<br /><br />We've been here before, we know it takes months to get the hair back, and get the nutrition back. Perseus was growly - heck, I would be too if I felt that bad. Still, he only growled at the other dogs - he loved his humans. He showered us with kisses and love. It was clear that he had zero social skills. He was going to have to learn how to be a member of the pack. Probably the hard way too.<br /><br />Day by day, Perseus got a little more engaged. First following tentatively, then engaging some of the other boys, and Mika the young female sibe, in single play. After a few more days, he joined in the group play, if just a little, and for short bursts. <br /><br />Then I saw it. It was time for the 9:00 AM runfest. Every morning the sibe pack runs back and forth in the back yard, around the trees, and back and forth some more. Punctuated with periodic play tussles. And I did see it. A little red and white baboon-looking siberian pup, running with the pack. With his tail up! That foxlike bottlebrush red and white tail was up in the air, telling everyone who could see it that he had found his inner husky.<br /><br />The stink is still there, and it will be until the mange and infections are all healed. A light coat of fuzz is now covering most of the angry pink, so he looks less like a baboon, and more like, well, just pitiful. But the Husky is out - he has the prance, the proud walk, the curiosity, the playfulness, the periodic bursts of full out running and leaping, and yes, the little raised tail. He even joins in the daily howlfests! Perseus is one happy, happy siberian husky.<br /><br />Welcome to huskyhood, Perseus!Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-79632341653202802052011-03-08T07:12:00.002-05:002011-03-08T08:02:48.596-05:00A bittersweet PassingIt was about two years ago when we received the kind of call that fills us with excitement, and with dread. The call was asking us to join our friend and collaborator Dawne from Southern Siberian Rescue (SSR) to help with dozens of Siberian Huskies being seized from a neglect case in Greenville, SC. Excitement, because it is a challenge to rise to, and lots of lives to save. Dread, because you cannot know how many of the dogs will be more challenge than you can handle. <br /><br />We took several pups, as this is normally the arrangement with SSR - they take the adults, we take the pups and preggers. But after a couple of days, Dawne asked if we could take on one more. She had a girl that was just terrified, and needed special attention, and she just did not have the environment to help this poor girl.<br /><br />Enter Maui. <br /><br />Maui was as pretty as they come. Not that that moment, mind you, she took some cleaning up. But white, off-white, and a sprinkling of tan and black down her back. Beautiful, deep brown eyes. Eyes that showed terror and fear from who knows what, but clearly years of improper handling and neglect. No one knew her age, but by her teeth and physiology, we guessed 5-8 years. <br /><br />Maui hid. That is what she did. She was terrified of people, and particularly of men. Of course, we tried to give her every comfort, and encouraged her to socialize with our pack. We were patient.<br /><br />It took almost four months for Maui to walk up to Aida, on her own volition, and ask for some lovin'. Of course, it was happily given, and you could even detect a bit of tail wagging. She ducked for cover as soon as I was within sight, but every day got a little better. Aida and I agreed that Mau-Mau would likely never be adopted, and that was OK. And, no, Mau-Mau has nothing to do with the Kenyan uprising, it is a habit I have with all of our fosters (Blue Blue, Stan Stan, and so on).<br /><br />Maui tested positive for heartworms, and that is so hard on huskies. When they start feeling better from the treatments, they want to run. And exercise while undergoing hearworm treatment can kill a dog. Try keeping a husky still. Well, Maui cooperated. Unfortunately, it in part because she had persistent lung congestion and infection. When wee took her for X-rays of the lungs, we also discovered that she had most of the contents of a shotgun shell in her legs, shoulder, and chest. We cried for her past, and smiled hoping for her happy, healthier, future.<br /><br />It was about the time that Maui would not run away every time I cam into a room that Beau and Jerry came over to meet Maui. They had adopted a Sibe from us earlier, one that was similar, but a little darker, in appearance. Keena was definitely not shy, though, like Maui. The one thing I remember most is that Maui did not react to Jerry, and especially to Beau, the way she had initially to us, and especially me. They fell in love, and decided to make Maui a member of their family. We were elated for Maui!<br /><br />Beau and Jerry set her up like a queen, with the Cadillac of crates, special beds, and all of the love any dog could ask for. They continued with her pneumonia treatments. She went through the same cycle with them, eventually warming up to Jerry and tolerating Beau's presence. They installed a doggy door so she could 'escape' from the humans and romp happily with her pack mates. Something Aida said struck a chord with me, commenting on how Maui played with her canine brothers and sisters: "Funny, something as little as a raised tail could make us all so happy." She was a happy, healthy, girl. <br /><br />Except that she wasn't entirely healthy. The labored breathing remained a problem, and she was in and out of the vet with congested lungs, taking stronger and stronger antibiotics and even steroids. Finally, on day, the vet decided to dig further, and took a biopsy, since she was just not responding and staying clear. Everyone's worst nightmare came back with those results. Cancer. Lung Cancer and it was not operable.<br /><br />We cried a lot. It was not fair.<br /><br />Jerry and Beau gave Maui every luxury, the treatments and meds, and more love than any dog could ever hope for. She had bad days, and she had good days.<br /><br />A couple of days ago, Maui crawled under the house, and would not come out. When they did get her out, she was clearly distressed. Of course, it was the weekend, after hours. They took Maui to Banfield, where they knew some of the staff. Her temperature was 107, and she was vomiting and pooping black - which means lost of blood. It was very likely that the cancer has eaten through into her abdomen, and that she was now septic, with infection in the blood. There was nothing that could be done other than make her comfortable. One and a half liters of sub-Q fluids and lots of antibiotics, anti-emetics, and intestinal coating meds later, covered with ice packs, they took her home. <br /><br />Jerry slept with Maui on their big comfy chair, Maui laying on ice packs, and covered in them, to keep the fever down. Maui cried once, and settled back down. In the morning, I helped Jerry take Maui to the vet that had helped her from the beginning. She was calm, although breathing was difficult. She was getting all the love that three people could pour out through petting, talking, and swelling hearts. <br /><br />Monday morning Maui Hodge passed calmly into sleep, and crossed the Rainbow Bridge. We will forever bear scars on our hearts from her pain and her passing, and will forever be uplifted by the memories of her playing with the pack, and showing with beaming eyes that finally got it - dem hoomins ain't so bad.<br /><br />Thank you, Jerry and Beau, for giving Maui the best fourteen months any dog could hope for. Thank you.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-15271452457662355072011-01-09T07:56:00.002-05:002011-01-09T08:38:41.313-05:00Are you ready to RUMBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE?There are many, many reasons to sit and watch a litter of puppies. Or sit AMONG a pile of puppies. Watching them change, sometimes daily, is a treasure. And, it is a different treasure with each litter. I've mentioned before that I believe every child, of every age from 5 to 85, should observe a litter being born. Even help, if possible. It changes you. For the better.<br /><br />At Pawfect Match Rescue we do not adopt our puppies out until at least 7 weeks of age, but we strongly prefer 8 weeks of age. There is some play/bite learning that puppies learn with each other during that time that is very important for their development. If the pups do not learn that lesson, they tend to not have enough inhibition when they play-bite other animals or people. This is more often a failure of humans - of fosters - than of the pups.<br /><br />However, it becomes VERY difficult to properly manage an entire litter of pups once they get past about five weeks. They are weaned by then, and at least half-way through the "wading in the mush" stage of feeding. And the POOP. Oh. My. Goodness. The poop and pee everywhere. Momma is no longer eating the puppy's poopies, because you're separating her from the pups to wean them and dry up her milk. So, we typically dole the litter out in 2s and 3s to our foster homes. Two or three pups are more manageable, and they still have each other to play with, learn from/with, and chew on. <br /><br />This morning, the litter of 8 pups at my house (Olive's crew) turn six weeks old. They started screaming for their food and water before Aida and I were ready to face the day. Fair enough - they get their morning treatment at 5:30 during weekdays, and their tummy alarms do not change for the weekend. And today is Sunday.<br /><br />After getting two bowls of kibble and two bowls of fresh water down for them, I cleaned up the pee pads and the poop that was not on the pads, replaced the pads, and sat down to share some love. It is very warming, and cool (ironically), to have a swarm of living things running up to you, and all over you, full of love and givings kisses. Until they start chewing on anything they can get hold of. The robe, not so much a problem. The soft flesh of my thigh near the knee - yeah, that hurts. But still, I can keep most of the 8 focused on my hands and face, savoring the wafting puppy breath.<br /><br />What struck me this morning, though, happened after I climbed out of the pen. One or two of the maniacs had decided that one of the pee pads needed to be moved, then shredded. Others joined in. Then one of them, doing their best DeNiro "You talkin ta me?" in response to a growl, jumped on another with ferocity and vigor. Well, as much as playful pups muster, anyway. What ensued was a free-for-all puppy rumble! One or two sat off to the side watching, maybe chewing on something else or drinking a little, but they usually found an opening and reason to jump in. <br /><br />To my uncanine eyes, I could not make out any sides. It was like each pup was on its own, and alliances formed and evaporated almost instantaneously. After a couple of minutes, momma and two of my foster huskies were sitting next to me, watching the debacle. Momma, I am sure, wanted to intervene, and the huskies, I am more sure, wanted to join in. I can't blame them, there were some fancy moves going in there. I know I saw at least two Death From Above (r) maneuvers - and I would have sworn in court that these puppies are incapable of flight. Some of the rearing and charging made me imagine them with tiny steeds, plate mail armor, a lance, and a maiden's favor involved. Yes, I have an overactive imagination....<br /><br />They sure seemed to be having a glorious time of it! After a few more minutes, the rumble finally petered out, and most went about other diversions. Two pairs of pups continued to chew on each other, but more prone than airborne. The best proof that they had a good time? No more than eight minutes after the fracas started, eight out of eight pups are sleeping on the various dog beds, and as usual, one pile of four, one pile of three, and one sleeping by himself near the food. THAT is a happy, sated, pile of pups.<br /><br />Until their tummies wake them, to pee, poop, and eat and drink again. An play. Play, play, play. Are you ready to RUMBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE?Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-25509619548187695242010-11-23T10:12:00.002-05:002010-11-23T10:37:32.402-05:00They're just dogs, right?We're about to travel for the holidays, a short trip flying within the USA. Which has me thinking about the TSA scanning/patdown issue. If you watch any news at all you cannot have avoided this - the anecdotes, the hyperbole, the lies, the statements of policy, and I am sure there's some truth in there somewhere. <br /><br />What strikes me the most is the incredible amount of energy and resources being spent, and by some arguments the rights that we are giving up (see Fourth Amendment to the US Constitution), for absolutely no positive outcome beyond the Theater of Security. TSA's measures have been responses, not proaction, to various failed attempts to harm American travelers and aircraft. Shoes, then pat downs, now full body scans. As one comedian said recently, they tried to assassinate a Saudi ambassador by putting an explosive device in nether regions - so, body cavity searches next? Fortunately the would be assassin died, and the ambassador was only slightly injured. The sad truth is that NONE of the new measures in place today would have stopped the 9/11 attacks. Not one. Did you know that the personnel who service the plane - food, gas, cleaning, supplies, etc - do NOT got through those security procedures?<br /><br />So why rant about this in a dog rescue blog? Well, because of the energy that is put into a completely ineffective and highly obtrusive program. Contrast that to the years-long effort, that has been thwarted every year, to strengthen the laws in NC that deal with animal cruelty, with preventing puppy mills, that deal with hording and neglect, that push for spay/neuter and responsible breeding laws, and that beg for humane euthanization of companion animals in our shelters. The opponents are loud and effective - they decry the gubment intruding in their bidness. Two powerful men continually thwart these effort every year, by lying to pig farmers that any such legislation will affect them (because animal welfare, including companion animals, is an affair of the Department of Agriculture), and by playing the TwoFace card with no embarrassment (the man in charge of the Ag Dept area of animal welfare sells gas-based euthanization equipment and makes bank on teaching shelters how to use them - Conflict of Interest anyone?).<br /><br />We spend billions as a nation putting Security Theater into play, intruding on our rights with searches without probable cause, and most security experts agree that it provides practically no additional protection. However, we cannot muster the humanity to pass legislation that will stop the problems that lead to thousands of dogs having to be rescued from cruel neglect and puppy mill slave status, and that lead to millions of dogs and cats being euthanized - gassed to death - in shelters every year. Every year. Millions.<br /><br />They're just dogs, right?Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-814739393467383462010-11-14T10:11:00.002-05:002010-11-14T10:30:45.329-05:00This one I just don't get... greed, maybe?One of the ladies who used to volunteer with PMR called us earlier this week about 6 German Shepherd Dogs (GSDs) about six months old that were coming into a shelter with what was almost certainly canine parvovirus, or "parvo". Parvo is deadly to puppies, especially if they have not been getting their immune system booster vaccinations, or DHPP (distemper, hepatitis, parvovirus, parainfluenza). Typically, puppies are fully vaccinated by four months of age, and out of danger from parvo.<br /><br />Seeing pups with parvo in shelters is, unfortunately, not too uncommon. What makes this one just baffling is that the owner of these pups claims to have whelped them from AKC registered parents. When they got sick, he decided he could not or would not pay for their veterinary care, which for six pups could be in the low thousands depending on the vet. <br /><br />Our former volunteer wanted to know if we would take them in and try to save their lives. Well, our president is a huge fan of GSDs, and we did not hesitate, we said yes. We made arrangements with a GSD breed-specific rescue in the area to take two of the pups, and we picked them up and started the fluids (it was after normal business hours, so we put them on fluids until the vet could take them in the morning). We got them to the vet, who put them on IV fluids, broad spectrum antibiotics, and minor nutritional supplements. Sadly, one of the pups passed that afternoon.<br /><br />So far, the others are hanging on. A couple of them are still in a very fragile state, with an almost negligible white blood cell count. Prayer is what may be keeping them with us at this point.<br /><br />What I cannot fathom is why someone would breed AKC registered GSDs and choose to not vaccinate the pups. It is maybe a couple of hundred dollars for all six. Other than a level of ignorance that is hard to accept, the only explanation that makes sense to us is greed. And now one gorgeous pup is dead, two are barely hanging on, the three more are still in danger.<br /><br />PMR will do what it takes to keep these pups alive, and find them new happy forever homes. It will be expensive. If you have the wiggle room, or know others who do, please consider contributing to their fund. Their pictures are on our website, www.pawfectmatch.org.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-1467284797079426122010-11-11T21:16:00.002-05:002010-11-11T21:30:26.663-05:00Poor Boy... Happy Boy!The story goes that there were something like twelve pups running loose, and no one could catch them. Well, Animal Control caught one of them, because he had an injured foreleg, but we never saw the rest again.<br /><br />Vaughn was a cute little beige hound mix, extremely loving, very playful. But his front right paw did not work. He could not extend it at all. The vets said that he was likely hit by a car, and the nerves that control paw flexion were pull away from the spinal cord. Sometimes they heal on their own, a millimeter a month. We decided to give him three months to see if his nerves reconnected.<br /><br />That was a daily chore. Changing gauze bandages and wrapping with stretch wrap, and putting a booty on it to protect it and keep it dry. Sometimes he would chew the wrappings off, but most often they just came off from his incessant playing. All it took was some playing on the patio concrete for 20 minutes and he had a new hole worn into his numb paw. It got bad one night, and required some repair and stitches. We worked extra hard after that to keep the paw protected.<br /><br />He did use that leg, and even the paw to some extend. He just could not extend the paw, and seemed to have no feeling in it at all.<br /><br />So, last week, we took Gimpy in - yes, we call him Gimpy now - for his neuter. We all decided that the nerves were not coming back, so we agreed to get that useless paw out of the way while he was under. Dr. Monce did a great job, and the wounds have healed nicely.<br /><br />Practically everyone who sees him says "Awww, poor boy!" But I will tell you, he is one VERY happy dog. He chases Randi the Australian Cattle Dog mix around the back yard with NO problems. He can dig a hole, a deep hole, about as fast as any dog I've ever seen dig a hole. He shoots right up the steps and down again. He even climbs onto Aida's desk with not fear. <br /><br />You will be very hard pressed to find a happier, more loving dog, than Vaughn the Gimp. No Poor Boy about it, he is one Happy Boy!Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-46876493204732004722010-10-21T21:24:00.002-04:002010-10-21T21:35:00.952-04:00It's time for Dogtoberfest again!!Yes, it's that time again. Great weather, beautiful surroundings, lots of wonderful vendors, rescues, demonstrations, and lovely neighbors and dogs. Irritating dog-themed music. Yummy baked goods, hotdogs, and drinks. It's the Fifth Annual Dogtoberfest!<br /><br />Come on out to Harris Lake County Park from 11:00 AM to 3:00 PM for the fun, and bring your furkids too! We will have a microchip clinic, a raffle, costume contest, lots of other contests like owner-dog look-alike, best trick, and others. Show off your rescue dog in the Parade of Rescues!<br /><br />It should be a wonderful time, and the forecast could not be better. Come on out and enjoy Dogtoberfest with us!<br /><br />Sponsored by Purina's Rally to Rescue program and Wake County.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-62102521112932318152010-08-13T16:34:00.002-04:002010-08-13T16:46:21.629-04:00Wazzit?One of the true joys of working with dog rescue is coming up with names. Names for new pups and dogs, and names for new breeds... uh, mutts.<br /><br />We have had dogs named after scientists, beers, TV show characters, Peanuts(r) characters, literary characters, everyone-in-the-group-name-starts-with-the-same-letter, and - I kid you not - one litter that was so flea infested when we got them that they and their mother received the name 'flea' but each one in a different language. Siberian Husky litters often get Inuit, Native American, or Japanese names. We even use a Book of Baby Names and a Book of Dog Names when we're stumped.<br /><br />But the mix breeds, that can be fun. First, what the heck is it? Sometimes we know, sometimes it is easy to guess. Sometimes we're just "what the ...?" Of course, everyone knows the popular ones: puggle, maltipoo, labraddodle, goldendoodle, and so on. My favorite current special blend is Fermi, our 'Chug". That is Chihuahua/Pug, cuz Pahua just did not feel right...<br /><br />But we're getting some new ones that just beg for a new name. Momma was a Siberian Husky, dad was a Great Dane.<br /><br />So what ARE these pups? Sane Duskies? Great Siberians? Siberian Danes? Griberian Hanes? Bolshoi Danes? Gruskies? Marmadookskis? Scooby Dooskis?<br /><br />For now, we've settled, I think, on SiberDanes.<br /><br />Wha, you got somethin better? Bring it.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-45663720639677948142010-08-08T11:25:00.002-04:002010-08-08T13:09:15.231-04:00Know your breedYou may or may not be keeping track of the Bear-Bear tragedy (just search for Bear-Bear, you'll find it), but in a nutshell, an off-duty officer shot and killed a Siberian Husky in a dog park, claiming that Bear-Bear was attacking his dog. Witnesses say differently, and subsequent evaluation showed no evidence that either he or his dog were hurt in any way, not even a scratch. The Anne Arundel police department has re-opened the case, so perhaps justice will be found for Bear-Bear's family.<br /><br />What this got me thinking about was how this horrible tragedy even happened. Leaving aside whether the officer should have ever drawn, much less fired, his weapon, the main thought that came to me was that he misunderstood the play, based on breed. Witnesses say that Bear-Bear was just playing with the officer's German Shepherd, in a way that is typical of Huskies. Aye, therein lies the rub...<br /><br />Siberian Huskies are very active and noisy when they play. To the casual observer, with no history with Sibes or behavior evaluation, you'd think they were shredding each other. They love to jump on and over each other, lots of teeth showing, and all kinds of WOOs and YIPs. If you watch carefully, there is actually little contact, and no harm - no biting, no blood. But to the casual observer, Hell's Fury hath come to earth in the form of an insane devil-eyed wolf-looking demon dog.<br /><br />But you know what? The same can be true, in different ways for other breeds. Bully breeds have powerful jaws and high tolerance to pain. Aussies and Border Collies love to nip at the legs. And on and on. <br /><br />You might be doing the best favor ever for your dog, and others, to learn about the play style and general interaction characteristics of your dog's breed, or breeds. Unfortunately, Bear-Bear was being watched over by his owner's brother, and even he did not have even a few seconds to react before Bear-Bear was murdered. Be aware. Be knowledgeable.<br /><br />And keep Bear-Bear's family in your thoughts.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-75097124789315751032010-08-07T14:59:00.002-04:002010-08-07T15:43:20.060-04:00The Call and The CallingIt had been a long week, both at work and at the rescue. I was heading back home at the end of Friday, and I had already fielded two calls from work on my cell phone (at least the bluetooth in my car makes that safe and easy). The phone rang again - I did not really want to handle another call but I answered anyway.<br /><br />"Hello, is this Dave?"<br />"Yes..."<br />"This is Joe [name changed for privacy]. We adopted Sally [also name changed] a while back, and I called you a few weeks ago about her problems."<br /><br />My heart sank. I remembered the call. I was dreading THIS call. Joe had called one evening very angry, telling me that this insane puppy just had to go. She was irritating their older dog, She was biting him and his wife. She was eating her own poop. She was out of control, and had to go. We talked for a while - at least he was willing to listen. I gave our 'standard' approach, reminded him that they agreed in the contract to work with us to resolve the problems. I promised to have one of our trainers call him and discuss what was going on. He kept insisting that it was just not going to work, and my wife was getting exasperated just listening to my side of the call. I finally said Fine, bring her to us tomorrow.<br /><br />Joe called back a couple of hours later, apologized, said they love Sally, but at just at wits end. They were willing to work with us. I told him I would line up help right away. I had our favorite Animal Behaviorist call them.<br /><br />The Behaviorist called back a couple of days later and said that while the call was short (bad timing, Joe was busy) she thought that they would be able to work things out.<br /><br />That was a few weeks ago, and I had not heard any more from Joe.<br /><br />Until this call. Sigh. Here we go...<br /><br />"Yes, Joe, I do remember you and Sally. So how..."<br />"I just wanted to call you and tell you how much we LOVE Sally and how grateful we are that you had the patience to work with us. She is a totally different dog now - she and her 'brother' play all the time, they are inseparable and love each other. My wife and I cannot tell you how happy we are with her, we cannot imagine our life without her. She is Daddy's Girl - she goes everywhere I go."<br /><br />I was speechless. Mostly because I was grinning from ear to ear. "Joe, that makes me so happy to hear! Wow!"<br /><br />"Dave, I also want to apologize - I was such a jerk when I called..."<br /><br />"No apology necessary! You did the right thing! Now everyone is happy!"<br /><br />And so the call went for a good ten minutes. Joe told me that the one thing I had said to him that really stopped him in his tracks and made him think. Apparently I had told him that 90% of the time puppies are out of control it is the owners' fault - because the humans are not in charge, not doing their job, not spending enough time with the pup, not actively managing. He and his wife thought about it, prayed about it, listed to the Behaviorist, did their research, and set out to make their life with Sally work.<br /><br />They succeeded.<br /><br />THAT call is one of the reasons we do this. Joe thanked us for being thorough. For asking questions. For making the Home Check. For being there after the adoption to help them to succeed. For being patient when he lost his cool.<br /><br />If anyone was looking into that silver Genesis Coupe on my way home, I am sure they were wondering why that guy was grinning like such a fool. <br /><br />Good way to end a long week.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-17607915795100141892010-06-17T23:05:00.002-04:002010-06-17T23:18:54.441-04:00Puppy belly futuresThere are few things in this world that create the level of despair and gnawing emptiness inside than a 2 week old, too weak puppy that just will not eat. No bottle, no syringe, no mush. You know they come to you compromised. Worms. Malnutrition. Viruses and bacteria. But you have to try. <br /><br />Of this new batch of four at my house, the little fluffy brown girl just would not eat. She was too big to tube feed, and we had already lost one of her siblings a few nights ago. I was getting that sinking feeling - she would not eat, and she was losing what little weight she had. Each night was a gamble, would she be with us in the morning?<br /><br />.........<br /><br />There are few things in this world that create the level of elation and exuberant optimism inside me than a fading puppy that screams at five o'clock in the morning FEED ME!!! NOW!!! Aida had put her in her own little carrier next to the bed, and we had dewormed her and started her on Clavimox to fight the 104 degree fever. We both leapt up when she started screaming for food a half hour before the alarm would sound. HOORAY! She is hungry! And oh my did she suck down some formula!<br /><br />There are few things in this world that make me smile and bring as much contentment as a big round puppy belly full of mush/goats milk/karo syrup/yogurt.<br /><br />They're almost three weeks old. Stay tuned - it looks like they're on the way to long healthy lives, and should be on the site in about 3 weeks. Unless Aida gets trigger happy and posts their cute pics sooner.<br /><br />Love me some fat puppy bellies.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-9834199541459188652010-02-20T21:19:00.004-05:002010-02-20T22:01:13.808-05:00A Sad Milestone"The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step"... or in our case, the saving of eight hundred dogs (so far) begins with a single pup.<br /><br />At the end of February 2006, Aida had completed the paperwork and preparation to launch Pawfect Match Rescue. We had the tax number, articles, letters, logos - all we needed was a dog. Spot became PMR #001.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dtExGgWARQQ5fMnlSMyQZXV_PfQBiTSOrkh3gv02M9EF0Ct2eP4aEoCIoRlrOi5nPw4sXgpvERscuSPdk2k3B0daccQKZ1R5GWUMgnlumb1gOaeMK-TggohCufZD1bMQ-9T0bzmO6939/s1600-h/Spot01.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 96px; height: 72px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dtExGgWARQQ5fMnlSMyQZXV_PfQBiTSOrkh3gv02M9EF0Ct2eP4aEoCIoRlrOi5nPw4sXgpvERscuSPdk2k3B0daccQKZ1R5GWUMgnlumb1gOaeMK-TggohCufZD1bMQ-9T0bzmO6939/s320/Spot01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440522936085950578" /></a><br />One look at this pup and it was clear that his name had to be Spot. He was eager, he was happy, and he had no real reason to be. He was suffering from sarcoptic mange, and itched like crazy, and he was on death row.<br /><br />Well, PMR took him in, and took him on. It took quite a while for us to conquer his mange. We constantly stopped him from scratching so that he could heal, and not get skin infections. He would low-crawl through the grass to scratch his belly without really scratching, and we would laugh out loud. <br /><br />What a face! He was so happy, so playful. Especially once the mange was gone, the skin was healthy and the hair grew back. <br /><br />Spot watched as dog after dog, and pup after pup, got adopted, while he waited for his forever home. Of course, Aida was picky - not just anyone was going to get to have this sweet special boy!<br /><br />But someone special did come along. A wonderful family passed our tests and convinced us they were the right home. He had a huge yard to run in, and lots of kids to play with. We were sad to see him go, but thrilled that he had a new home. <br /><br />We got a few pictures over the years, and we happy to know he was healthy and happy.<br /><br />But a few days ago we received an email that broke our hearts. Spot had hurt himself doing his favorite thing - chasing a squirrel. He ruptured a disc in his spine, and was paralyzed. The emergency vet was certain that even with surgery he would be in pain, if he even ever walked again. The family, with very heavy heart, decided to end his pain. <br /><br />Four years old. Not long enough to share all the love he had, but he loved with all he had every day. Spot, PMR #001, is chasing squirrels on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. Play well, little Spot. We miss you.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-64945660380490401532009-10-18T18:27:00.002-04:002018-08-20T09:18:28.339-04:00A different kind of RescueFriday, after lunch, working hard - well, my brain was anyway. A co-worker from the previous contract popped his head in and said he had a need for my skills. Odd - he is an information security specialist, and a damn good one too - I cannot image what help I could be.<br />
<br />
Turns out he and another co-worker have a new friend - a dog followed them into the back entrance, and they want my help. Sure, no problem. <br />
<br />
He is a Yellow Lab, obviously full blooded. Check teeth - pearly white. I am guessing no more than 1 year old. Neutered, no collar, but obviously well taken care of. This is someone's pet. Poor boy is lost. Very friendly. We get him some water, and I head to my car for the leashes I always carry.<br />
<br />
Right. No leash in the car. Figures. Well, he follows us anyway, and hops right in. I crack the window, pop upstairs to grab my PC for the weekend. I figure I can take him home, crate him, take pics and send to the co-workers so they can place Found Dog ads, and we can notify the local shelters. Oh, and I can scan for a microchip at home, too.<br />
<br />
But, I know there is a housing area nearby, so I swing by there first. Driving around slowly, looking for someone looking for a dog, or perhaps an open gate. Spot the USPS delivery van - she is sure she has seen him in the next neighborhood up. So, I head that way. <br />
<br />
Then I see it. One of those huge Sandicast statues of a yellow lab sitting on the sidewalk - that must be the house. Oh, wait, it moved. That is a dog! Another yellow lab on the loose. Great.<br />
<br />
I put on the brake and open the car door. He comes running over, sniffing the air. He sees the other lab and jumps right in. They lick each other in a way that makes it clear that they know each other. Great, two lost dogs. <br />
<br />
The new boy is older, maybe 4-5 by the teeth, also neutered. This one has a collar, but zero tags. Yay.<br />
<br />
OK, I am not taking TWO dogs home. Regroup.<br />
<br />
I pop out the iPhone, start Where! and type in veterinarian. There are few in the area. I know the closest one, on 55, but I keep getting drawn to one on 54 towards Durham. I call. The message says they are closed for 1/2 hour for training. No problem, I can drive there and wait.<br />
<br />
It is only a ten minute drive, but they are open. I explain that I am with a rescue group, and have two strays in the car. Can they scan for chips, please? Sure no problem. They lend me two temp leashes.<br />
<br />
The poor tech had never used a scanner before. No numbers coming up. Oh wait, do I have to hold the button down? LOL!! Yes, there is a chip. And yes, there is another. I recognize the prefix codes as 24PetWatch. The friendly attendant calls, and they have them in the system. Both are owned by the same person - yay!!<br />
<br />
Even better, this is their vet! They agree to take them and hold them for the owner. Those boys will be home before sunset, I am thinking.<br />
<br />
Now THAT is a good reason to get microchips in your dog, if there ever was one. <br />
<br />
Not exactly adoptions, but mark up two more rescued by PMR. :-)Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-21253980824536269172009-10-18T18:24:00.002-04:002009-10-18T18:27:55.992-04:00Score!We just got the news that PMR pups will once again be participating in the Animal Planet PuppyBowl(r) this year!!<br /><br />They selected Punkin and Carson this time around. Both have lots of play energy. Of course, that is what we said about Schroeder and Charlie Brown last year, just before Schroeder decided to nap his way through the bowl...<br /><br />Aida and an unspecified vict... er, volunteer will head up to Silver Spring MD next weekend for the filming. <br /><br />Tune in on Superbowl Sunday to watch Punkin and Carson FTW!!!Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-86242162637115926042009-10-15T09:13:00.001-04:002009-10-15T09:13:46.408-04:00It Is the Right Time to Adopt a Dog!With the economy on the mend there are a lot of statistics being tossed around these days. Here is one for you: over two million dogs were euthanized in shelters across America last year. The fear is that the number will grow, a lot, this year. The reason? Well, the economy.<br /><br />In the past, recessions have not had much of an impact on pet ownership or animal shelter populations. The rationale is that folks will continue to spend on their children and their pets through thick and thin. But this recession is different. This time millions are losing their homes because the major underlying cause of this downturn is tied to mortgages. As people lose their homes, they are turning to apartments or relatives. In many of these situations, they are not able to take their beloved pets with them, so they turn to shelters and rescues. <br /><br />Most animal shelters are full most of the time, if not all of the time. Now they are overflowing. This is especially true for “No-Kill” shelters, because pet owners are desperate to have their pets rehomed and not put down. Rescues are getting multiple calls every day from people begging them to take their pets to rehome.<br /><br />The good news for you is that now the majority of animals in the shelters are not the matted, dirty, flea and tick bitten, unsocialized strays – they are loved, well cared-for, clean, socialized pets ready for a new home. Of course, these are course generalizations, but in general, this is the trend we are seeing.<br /><br />If you are thinking about bringing a four-footed member into your family, the time is right to adopt. Please visit your local shelter or rescue group today to see if they have your next cuddle-buddy waiting for you!Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-27331849806963464662009-10-05T21:06:00.003-04:002009-10-05T21:20:52.313-04:00It's Time for Dogtoberfest! Prossit!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuKegfOg9MeLJ2AhGFFJrIwGUF59oEVpFaBwg13xRm4-dBGyt3Tffx40KiyTQTc2NrjUqwX9MS_A9ogYz65G6V1k_Uwk9M0kqPSd3-MRIG0FcsflR1MxOCyioWmw0dT-H_Dg-KeMMMUOT/s1600-h/2009+DOGTOBERFEST.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuKegfOg9MeLJ2AhGFFJrIwGUF59oEVpFaBwg13xRm4-dBGyt3Tffx40KiyTQTc2NrjUqwX9MS_A9ogYz65G6V1k_Uwk9M0kqPSd3-MRIG0FcsflR1MxOCyioWmw0dT-H_Dg-KeMMMUOT/s400/2009+DOGTOBERFEST.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389290368686248626" /></a><br />The leaves are starting to turn. The evenings are cool, almost chilly, and the days are layered with warm sun on the skin and a cool breeze drifting over it. That means it must be... Time for Dogtoberfest!<br /><br />Pawfect Match Rescue continues our tradition of the big fall party to celebrate our volunteers, our sponsors, our friends, our pooches, and the spirit of rescue with our annual fall event called Dogtoberfest. Last year we discovered how unbelievably beautiful Harris Park is in early October, so we are holding Dogtoberfest there again this year. A link to the map to Harris Park in on our website, front page.<br /><br />Food. Dogs. Drink. Rescues. Food. Vendors. Dogs. Demonstrations. Face Painting. More Food and Drink. Puppies. Microchip clinic. Music. Contests. More dogs. A Raffle! <br /><br />Come get a fall photograph of you and your dogs, or just your dogs, or even just you! Printed right there for you to take with you.<br /><br />We will have hot dogs, chips, sodas, and lots of home-baked goodies. <br /><br />There will be several contests throughout the day, and some games. There will be demonstrations. And lots of shopping with vendors who love dogs.<br /><br />Come on out - bring your pups! Have a wonderful day celebrating dogs with us at the annual Pawfect Match Dogtoberfest!Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-67088621446299252922009-10-05T20:33:00.002-04:002009-10-05T21:06:34.831-04:00When the right one comes alongMost pet rescues have them. The lifers, and the ones who despite all the right looks and personality just never get picked for that new home.<br /><br />Annie is our lifer. She requires just the right home, and for her, so far, that combination just has not arrived. It will, we have faith. But this post is not about Annie.<br /><br />It is about Phoebe. Phoebe is drop-dead gorgeous. A black and white Siberian Husky (yes, I am biased) with big deep brown eyes. She is tall and lanky, like the supermodel of Huskies. Sweet, sweet personality. And always the girl sitting by the dance floor watching the other girls get invited to the ball. But not Phoebe.<br /><br />Well, to be fair, she was chosen once. Turned out to be premature, the poor fellow ended up having to take three jobs to pay the rent. He wisely asked us to find her a new home, since she could not get the attention she deserved with him.<br /><br />She was not always gorgeous. She came to us with a bad case of demodex mange, and skin infections. Poor thing looked like an overused toy, and she itched constantly. Months of treatment, it seemed like endless months. Finally, the right meds did the job, and her lustrous coat grew in. She was ready for the ball.<br /><br />The application was quite unlikely. An older couple. WAY older couple. No fenced yard. And cats. We set it aside, and politely declined it, explaining that an 18 month old Sibe needs LOTS of exercise, and a previous foster said she was hell on cats. Sigh... next, please.<br /><br />Well, they were on a mission. They had looked at her many times, and passed her over because it said No Cats. But they kept coming back. They asked for earthly and heavenly guidance, and the answers came back: ask once more. Accept the answer.<br /><br />They wrote us a wonderful, well-reasoned, and detailed two-page, single spaced letter explaining why they were the right home for Phoebe. It was moving and convincing. We tested her with cats - turns out she could care less, unless they want to play. Play is good. We talked with the Board. It seemed clear that we should give them a try.<br /><br />Still one obstacle. They live in Yorktown, VA. That is a trip. And, they made it clear, they were willing to make that trip. Problem was, we needed to see her interaction with the cats. Well, as it turns out, we were planning a trip to Maryland, and Yorktown is not that far off the path. The plan was set.<br /><br />Oh. My. Goodness. This is truly a match made in Heaven, and they will tell you. Phoebe gets to walk 4-5 hours a day in historic Yorktown, on the river, meeting and greeting and playing with her human and canine friends. The cats have quickly moved from curiosity to best pals. The two grey parrots - yeah, they did not mention those - established their boss status the first time Phoebe stuck her nose between the bars. Dem beaks is sharp!<br /><br />Phoebe is Queen of the Ball now. The right one came along. After almost two weeks we are still getting daily pictures and stories. That is one happy girl! <br /><br />Congratulations, Phoebe.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-57126072609764854592009-09-02T13:46:00.002-04:002009-09-02T14:10:53.905-04:00Dog Prog Rocking with Chimp...OK, this one is weird, but bear with me. It is just too odd for me to pass up.<br /><br />I am working from home today, developing some requirements for a Business Intelligence dashboard for my client. Got the goods, now I am just building the document and preparing for the next steps. I need some music, to motivate. Hmmmm, what to play. Scanning the iTunes list - yes, Kansas will be just perfect. How about a total Kansas day - just play every Kansas album in order until I am done.<br /><br />The Huskies are all sleeping in the bedroom (ON the bed, of course), or on the tile floor in the living room. The foster Shar-Pei/Boxer pups (Shoxer? Sharxer? Boxpei? Chinese Boxers ala Saturday Morning Kung-Fu Theater?) are recharging their batteries in the X-pen. Tilde, the Chi, is curled up in her little fleece cave. Phoebe, the young Siberian Husky, is in my office because I have vowed to housebreak her this week, curled up under my work table to the left.<br /><br />The scene is set.<br /><br />Singing along with Kansas is one of my favorite things. I no longer have the range of a young Steve Walsh, but it's fun to try. Belexes comes on, one of the best tracks Kansas ever wrote. Energy level is building up ... wait, what was that? Did I just hear something in Belexes that I have missed for more than 30 years? Yes, there it is again, something like a chimp squawking perfectly in rhythm with the beat Ehart is laying down. Eeeyoop Eeeyoop Eeeyoop Squaaaaaaa Squaaaaaaa. No way.<br /><br />I drag the volume bar up to get a clear sound from the Bose 901s. They don't lie. Nope, can't hear it now. Hmmmm. OK, rewind it back to the beginning of that phrase. There! There it is again! I dragged the pointer back again - wait. The chimp is still sqawking, but the music is not playing.<br /><br />I look down to my left, whence the sound is clearly coming. Phoebe looks up at me with those big comic book brown eyes, with the chimp doggie chew toy between her teeth. She is looking at me like "What did I do now? It wasn't me!"<br /><br />I swear she was chewing that chimp RIGHT on beat with the Kansas tune. Heck, I knew drummers that couldn't keep a Kansas beat. Darn talented dogs, those Sibes...Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-11230750626377135222009-08-23T20:32:00.003-04:002009-08-23T21:59:48.767-04:00Maui by small steps<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN31nU4e2mrCnExZgyq09MeEonsgKN1h1DKIuR85S3Xl2o7pGlKtF8nAM6MGWLlNl2LTBBakCIm8Ix3voRIzw1QSzOSVBkLtCMWR6xX8Eej_YII81RI7Q75tYY4avCRKigDjK-pL8XHnk0/s1600-h/s898a1672734m3660365.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 244px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN31nU4e2mrCnExZgyq09MeEonsgKN1h1DKIuR85S3Xl2o7pGlKtF8nAM6MGWLlNl2LTBBakCIm8Ix3voRIzw1QSzOSVBkLtCMWR6xX8Eej_YII81RI7Q75tYY4avCRKigDjK-pL8XHnk0/s320/s898a1672734m3660365.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373344124360468978" /></a><br />Many of you already know that Aida and I love Siberian Huskies. If you did not, then count yourself as in the know now. We are owned by four of them, and we love the breed. We understand them, as well as one can understand Sibes. Naturally, that means we bring more than our share of Sibes into Pawfect Match Rescue. Since we know them, we can be better at fostering them and placing them into homes where they can be successful.<br /><br />Sibes are NOT like most dogs. Not at all. I truly believe that most of them that end up in shelters are the result of people falling in love with the look, especially the pups, getting one, finding out what they are REALLY like between 6 and 12 months, and turning them in, setting them loose, or just losing them because the escape artist, well, escaped.<br /><br />I read a statistic last year that claimed that of Sibes captured by animal control where they could determine the point of origin/owner, 40% of them were from different counties. They LOVE to run!<br /><br />If you want to really learn about Siberian Huskies, and have a good laugh at the same time, check out www.homelesshusky.com. Anyone who applies to adopt a husky from PMR is required to read that site. If they still want a Husky, then we can talk.<br /><br />So, what's with the title about Maui? Are we moving to Hawaii?<br /><br />Nope. Maui is the new Sibe on the Block for PMR. We helped with a seizure of Huskies in South Carolina (seems like there are WAY too many Sibes in SC - I suspect lots of backyard breeders and puppy mills), and we took in Maui. We were expecting to receive a pregnant husky, but the woman doing triage either lied or was incompetent. Probably both. Maui is not pregnant. She is, however, heartworm positive, probably about 5 or 6 years old, and extremely shy.<br /><br />Maui is drop-dead gorgeous. She is that white husky that fades slightly from white in the paws and legs to off-white at the shoulders, with a gorgeous peppering of brown and black in just the long hairs along her spine. Just stunning. Especially after a bath and some grooming (Housecall Grooming - cannot recommend them strongly enough, especially for huskies). She has brown eyes, and is very sweet.<br /><br />But, she is painfully shy. We put her crate fairly close to the doggie door, and she goes in and out regularly. The first couple of nights she did not want to come in, and we did not want to risk her digging or jumping out. It took us quite a while to catch her, even with the choke points we have in our back yard. After that we left a leash on so we could catch her more easily. We left her out after a few days, and she clearly does not want to try to escape.<br /><br />We have to give her antibiotics and ear medicine twice daily. The only way that happens is when she is in her crate. Otherwise, she won't let us touch her. Near, yes, but no touchie. She calmly and sweetly lets me give her the meds in her crate, and she never complains.<br /><br />Actually, we have never heard her voice. Not once. Odd for a husky.<br /><br />The good news is that Maui is starting to come out. Yesterday she roamed around the living room, as long as I stayed on the couch. If I moved, she was OUT the door.<br /><br />Today, she came up to Aida and let her chin be scratched. That is a BIG step.<br /><br />Stay tuned for more about Maui as she learns how to trust hoomins again. Oh, and visit her on our website at www.pawfectmatch.org. Since her treatments are going to be costly, you might consider a donation in her name too. Just sayin.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-23855041361817596432009-08-22T12:27:00.003-04:002009-08-22T20:09:11.628-04:00The Good Side<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5ipmfORNfUaviagRfz6IVmiydxdjfpcVchzDVscot7nSgAWjPylShawfDbN36qTsH5xcYbrO8VvUEwCNgO-t775HXCogcMG9q_otMDkIn0CgujfWo8X468BID_RPJnnHYjI7fVPFEELy/s1600-h/max1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5ipmfORNfUaviagRfz6IVmiydxdjfpcVchzDVscot7nSgAWjPylShawfDbN36qTsH5xcYbrO8VvUEwCNgO-t775HXCogcMG9q_otMDkIn0CgujfWo8X468BID_RPJnnHYjI7fVPFEELy/s320/max1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372938655926398226" border="0" /></a><br />I have posted several blogs about the hard parts, the challenges, and the losses of rescuing dogs. As much as I talk about the need for balance, as much as I believe in balance as a central philosophical concept, I have been remiss in not presenting enough balance in these blog posts. For that, I apologize.<br /><br />I suppose it is easier to be moved to words when the situation makes you sad, angry, or frustrated. There are definitely times of great joy and satisfaction that, in toto, more than make up for the sad times. I am going to spend some more time talking about the happy times.<br /><br />The Max.<br /><br />I have to start with Max. I get to hear a Max story about once a week, because Max was adopted by my friend and coworker Caroline. To say that they adore each other would be a gross understatement. They could not be happier with each other.<br /><br />Max's story sure did not start that way, however.<br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/DAVEWA%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><br />The call started off typically. "Is this Pawfect Match dog rescue?" "Yes, ma'am, how may I help you?" "Well, we found this stray dog, fed it some, and now we need to find it a home... we don't want to take it to a shelter where they will put it to sleep..."<br /><br />Only this call was different. These folks were calling from Wilmington, NC, on the coast over two hours away. They had placed Found Dog posters and ads locally, and taken him to a vet to scan for a microchip. He was sweet, they insisted, and they wanted us to take him in, based on a recommendation. Why us, why here? They have relatives here that knew of us.<br /><br />I was hesitant. VERY hesitant. Hounds are very hard to adopt out. There are a LOT of them in shelters, mostly turned out by hunters in rural areas when that dawg jes don' hunt no more. But these folks had a twist for us.<br /><br />They were from Houston, and getting ready to head home from vacation. Their flight home was from Raleigh Durham airport (RDU) so they were going to drive here anyway. If we would accept Max into our rescue they would bring him here on their way home, and make a sizable donation to us. A quick call to the Board members settled it (especially because one of them just loves those hounds). We agreed to take Max in.<br /><br />As agreed, we met in a nearby parking lot, took pictures, exchanged information, and parted ways. Max came to my home for a bath, vaccination, microchip, flea and tick and heartworm preventatives, and nail trim. So far so good.<br /><br />It did not take long for his foster mom to tell us how much she hated this dog. What a pain in the a%% he was. Loud. Obnoxious. Instigator. Lots of other terms I won't use here.<br /><br />I was worried.<br /><br />Then Caroline told me she was looking for a dog. She was fond of hounds, and saw Max on our site. I painted the nicest picture I could without downright lying. She said she wanted to meet Max. Her application was great of course, so there was just a meet and greet. Oh, and she has a cat. Sigh. This could not end well...<br /><br />The home check went well. He was coming off a bout with diarrhea, and he seemed to just want to lay on one large doggie bed, but it was the cat's food, and not the cat, he found interesting. Caroline decided he was going to stay, and the rest of the family agreed.<br /><br />I tiptoed into the office, just waiting day by day for the knock on my door. I was worried.<br /><br />Then one day I stopped by Caroline's office. "Dave, I have to tell you about Maxie" she started. My heart sank, and I took a deep breath. Then she went on to RAVE about what a FANTASTIC dog Max is! He is a joy, and happy, and they love him, and he is great, and, and, and....<br /><br />I was stunned. I was no longer worried.<br /><br />Almost every week I stop by Caroline's office whether I have business with her or not. I get my weekly Max Fix. If I happen to miss a week, Caroline stops by MY office to share the newest Max story. Of course they're not ALL great - he nearly turned her into a paraplegic launching after a deer once, and disappeared up the trail, not to be heard from or seen.... until she found him at the end of the trail patiently waiting for her. He still goes in and out of bouts of diarrhea and some worm or another. But most, almost all, are stories of immense joy and deep love that make up for every pain we experience in this business of rescue.<br /><br />Thank you, Caroline. And bless you, Max.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-40970938741846563372009-08-01T21:40:00.002-04:002009-08-01T21:59:02.491-04:00Dat was fun! Can we dooit agin?Ring. Ring. "Hello, Pawfect Match Rescue."<br /><br />"Uh yeah, is this, uh, paw... paw perfect match?"<br /><br />"Yessir, this is Pawfect Match Rescue, how can I help you?"<br /><br />"Yeah. I have two dogs in my back yard that were running loose, and one has a tag with your name and phone number."<br /><br />"OK, thank you! What is the number on the tag?"<br /><br />"550"<br /><br />"Thanks, hold on a second, and I will look that up. <pause> OK, that is Carter. Is he a black and tan dog, sort of like a German Shepherd?"<br /><br />"Yes ma'am, he and the other have been running around and are covered in mud. The other one does not have a tag."<br /><br />"OK, great. Give me your address and phone number, and we'll have someone over quickly to pick them up." [contact information provided]<br /><br />Heather called both phone numbers for the folks to whom we adopted Carter and his brother Wesley 8 months ago. No answer. Left messages. Then she called Dave to tell him what was going on, and to see if he could go get the dogs.<br /><br />Google map is our friend. Printed out directions, called the friendly neighbor to ask him to secure the dogs until we get there. Grabbed two leashes and the GPS and out the door.<br /><br />Oh goody, I am out of gas. Ah well, needed to fill up anyway...<br /><br />As I pull up, the owners are loading Carter and Wesley into their van with the loud assistance of a precocious little boy, I guess him to be about 2 or 3 years old.<br /><br />"Hi, I'm Dave with Pawfect Match. Are you [owner]?" "Yes, oh good. Glad to see you could get them back so quickly. So, mind if I ask how they got out?"<br /><br />He sighed slightly, put his hands on the steering wheel, gazed into the distance. "Our two year old thinks that it is amusing to let the dogs out so we can chase them. We're working on the solution, but we're clearly not there yet..."<br /><br />OK, that's a new one for me. Accidents, we've seen plenty. Dogs charging doors, you bet. Entertainment for the two year old, that's new.<br /><br />They're safe again. Not sure about that little boy's behind tho - might be some time out coming up.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-19689176692507856482009-07-30T17:20:00.004-04:002009-07-30T17:55:41.243-04:00Why is it always the sweet ones?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFcL0zKa4Xu92mPGvsKUy_EeKsvN0Pcqqf9uD69zKdabsi_P0S53T5AwU1DyPW7C1s3A5YwwDR0ZsG0lY46O8v8PVCD0_Zy8RLYiUQW6vhHGvpncGBlMAB7d5b4H0XcWZ7bMYXFXHcCCD/s1600-h/Maddiecollage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFcL0zKa4Xu92mPGvsKUy_EeKsvN0Pcqqf9uD69zKdabsi_P0S53T5AwU1DyPW7C1s3A5YwwDR0ZsG0lY46O8v8PVCD0_Zy8RLYiUQW6vhHGvpncGBlMAB7d5b4H0XcWZ7bMYXFXHcCCD/s320/Maddiecollage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364372529194734658" border="0" /></a><br />Today the last chapter of Madison's story was written. She is no longer working hard for every breath, wondering why she does not feel so good. She has joined her siblings across the Rainbow Bridge.<br /><br />But perhaps her story has an epilogue. Maddie's condition, which has been well documented, caught the attention of the excellent veterinarians at the NCSU College of Veterinary Medicine. With her records, those of her sister Tuscon, and those of Patience's pups and another litter in Pittsboro, they are going to publish a paper. Maybe this will help advance the topic of virally induced congestive heart failure in pups.<br /><br />I smile to think of how happy Madison was this last month. After the last Updates that I posted about her, she did very well. She had one bout with shortness of breath, and the vets kept her overnight to get her stabilized and run tests. We changed her dosages and added one med (5 medications and 4 nutriceuticals) and she came home to her friends. Aida and I wrestled with the choice - do we keep her completely calm to help her heart and lungs, or do we let her be a happy puppy for the time she has left? Well, mostly both. We kept her times of high activity to a minimum, but let her be all the puppy she could be.<br /><br />And she was. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OyaI7Po2W1o" target="_blank">http://www.<span class="il">youtube</span>.com/watch?<wbr>v=OyaI7Po2W1o</a><br /><br />She hung off of Roscoe's jowels, and he played along. She did her best to convince the grumpy old Husky Kiko that play is a good thing (can't blame Kiko, though, as she is recovering from cruciate ligament repair). Gabriel was happy to roll on his back or play bow if she insisted that it was his turn. She even claimed a coveted spot on The Bed.<br /><br />Maddie knew her name, and would come running if you called, body wagging. She loved her people. Especially Maia, who seemed to be the world's best chew toy.<br /><br />She was one happy pup. Until last night. She started having problems breathing, and you could just see in her eyes today that she was not feeling well. We had an appointment with the vet to check on her status today, so that timing was good.<br /><br />The news on the check up was not. The arythmia was much, much worse, and it was clear that the errant beats were being triggered from multiple locations. Her heart was even bigger, and now there was fluid leaking from her heart too. Maybe some time with lasix by IV would ease things for a day or two, but the story was clear. Madison's heart was not able to do the job her body needed it to do, and never would. She was not comfortable, and never would be again.<br /><br />The vets and staff at the vet school are wonderful, and it was with the greatest of tenderness that they helped Maddie to breathe easily the last few times. She gave us a few kisses before she closed her eyes.<br /><br />Play well, sweet sweet Maddie. We will miss you forever.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200233284787260300.post-75737246685692981132009-07-08T08:21:00.002-04:002009-07-08T08:36:00.909-04:00UpdatesI have two updates.<br /><br />First, we took Madison to the Vet School yesterday for a full cardio workup. The bad news is pretty much what we already knew - she has bad arythmia, and her contractile ratio (how elastic the heart is, so basically how well it pumps) is badly decreased. Her heart is full of scar tissue, which is not elastic and does not conduct the "pump now" signal. The vet there is wonderful, and everyone there just loves Maddie.<br /><br />The good news is that they are guardedly optimistic about her prognosis. We will continue on her current meds, bumping the dosage up, and we will start with some new holistic meds to help balance the system out, especially the ion pumps associated with the heart muscle. She continues to play and love, looking for all the world like a normal pup, so we will give her all of the love she can handle. We will bring her back in 7-10 days to evaluate her heart again, perhaps with a Holter monitor. Cross your fingers.<br /><br />Second, I told you back in May, in the blog <a href="http://pawfectmatchrescue.blogspot.com/2009/05/give-boy-break.html">Give the Boy a Break</a>, about our precious Einstein. The poor guy just had one ding after another, and I asked God to give him a break. Well, Einstein had his break from pain - a couple of weeks ago several of his systems just gave out, and he crashed. The labs and evaluation made it clear that he was just not assembled according to the instructions. He was in pain, and was never going to recover. Einstein is now playing with the other pups over the Rainbow Bridge. He will will always have a room reserved in our hearts. Play well, little man.Dave Walters, PMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02420184961642156223noreply@blogger.com0