More new arrivals ...

It's gorgeous out, and I came home to two new ewe lambs! Woo hoo! Will post photos later. And maybe I can catch some video of lambie races!

Happy lambie tails!
Jodi

Rescue ... and the excuses

Well, the weather is starting to get nice again, and the time is coming where I will start taking in a foster or two. The thought, though, really has my stomach turning. Why is that? Because the excuses of why dogs ended up in the shelter in the first place. Of all the dogs I've fostered or rescued, only one dog exhibited behaviors that I could see a normal pet owner would have a tough time handling. The rest of them were there through excuses.

"We're moving." - This is probably the number one excuse. I, personally, wouldn't move to a place where I wasn't allowed to keep my dogs. You see this one a lot on Craigslist, right before the dogs end up at the humane society. I've inquired about dogs on Craigslist, only to foster them when they came through IHS later. My question always is: "Does the breeder know you're looking for a home for your dog?" Often times, the response is, "I don't remember who the breeder is," or "I wouldn't give the dog back to that person," or, "I lost their number."

"He keeps getting out." - My first suggestion is usually to build a better fence, or to crate train the dog. The excuses come flying out and they are pretty dead set on finding the dog a home instead. "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"He's biting my children." - This one is pretty specific to Border Collies. You often find out that they are not "biting" the kids, but rather chasing movement, and no one has stopped them, so they've developed a bad habit. There are times when I can get through to a few people to never allow this behavior (set it up so it happens, only the pup is now on a long line and the correction is immediate), but mostly, they are already dead set on finding the dog a home rather than put in the effort to train the pup. "Does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"He sheds." - Yes, he's a dog. Yes, even small, mixed breed, short haired dogs shed, too. "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"We're having a baby." - This one really gets me. So tell me why, again, the dog can't stay because a baby appears? Would that mean you have to put some effort into dog ownership? Grrr. "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

"It was a (Christmas) (birthday) (anniversary) (graduation) present." - Yes, an unwanted one. If you know anyone who is going to give someone a dog as a "gift," please discourage them from doing so. How would you feel if you had a 15-year commitment handed to you as a "gift"? "Well, does the breeder know you're looking for a home for the dog?" See response above.

But all too often, you talk to breeders, and they all say the same thing: "They are all going to good homes." Oh yeah? I'm sure that's how it appears from their end, considering none of the people who put their dogs in the shelter are willing to contact the breeder. So the breeders can go on their merry little ways thinking that what they did was provide such "loving homes" for their puppies because they never find out any different.

Can I blame the breeders? Only for putting a litter on the ground in the first place - for no apparent reason other than that they have the "right to" - when dogs are being euthanized at an alarming rate -- especially now that the economy has tanked. But the breeders aren't the ones who have to deal with things when it all falls apart for the "good homes" they've placed their puppies in. The pups then end up in the shelters and are viewed as having "baggage." The only "baggage" they have is the baggage given to them by their situation.

Are there responsibly bred litters put on the ground with the legitimate purpose of maintaining a particular breed? Of course. Are there responsibly bred litters put on the ground with the legitimate purpose of maintaining the working ability in a particular breed? Yes. But it is not possible to maintain a particular breed (any breed) when the sire and dam are crossbred to start with -- which is all too often the case. These puppies are normally bred to supply a family member with a dog "just like Spike." People don't like to hear it, but what I normally try to encourage people who want to breed their pets to do before they breed them is -- go volunteer at the shelter. Go hold those dogs while the vet puts the drugs in their veins that will stop their heart. Look into their eyes as it's happening and then decide if you want to be responsible for putting that pup on the ground in the first place.

"HOW COULD YOU?"

Copyright © Jim Willis 2001, all rights reserved

When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housetraining took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them, especially their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.

I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being your dog to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now you have a new career opportunity in another city and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with "papers."

You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.

After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

AHBA Trial & a short stop at Heppner

We started out on the road about 7:00 a.m. to go to the AHBA trials in Western Washington at Fido Farms and Frog's Breath. Shortly into Oregon, a couple of us needed to pee. So we found a spot and it's where I took the first of many photos.







This is Janie, my very dear friend.





The view across the freeway:





The cows were not thrilled to see us ...





And were sure I was going to shoot them with my camera ...





The frost was still on everything.





Janie's chariot.





One of many shots taken while driving down the road. This was shot from the freeway, winding our way to Pendleton.





A shot of some random guy driving down the road.





A town named Echo!





The first rest stop. Mo and Echo played ...





And played ...













And played some more.





Found a cool spot for some portraits. Here's Echo ...





And Mo:





And Janie's dog, Roy.













Back on the road again, and Janie steps in as our wonderful tour guide. We head over the Columbia River to Stonehenge and Maryhill.























Inside Stonehendge:





Janie and Jaenne. Jaenne is the best! She kept Janie and I organized, and avoided us from leaving our belongings spread from Idaho to Washington. Thank you, Jaenne!





Mt. Hood





The day was gorgeous, and there was no wind! See?





Maryhill Museum





Some closeups:













Coming back over the bridge into Oregon, I took a couple of shots:









Here's the lady at the tollbooth. Yapping on the phone.









We stopped to eat lunch at Multnomah Falls. The restaurant was very nice, and the window we were sitting at was very clean -- clean enough, in fact, to take a photo right through it.









Got a few pix after lunch:

















The creek below the falls.





Friday night, we met Colleen at the motel in Chehalis, went out for a few drinks and to chat it up like girls do. We were all missing Katy, so the others started out with Lemon Drops, and I was into the Coronas ... and shots of Crown. Eventually, I convinced Colleen to drink what I was drinking, and before you know it, we were ten feet tall and bulletproof.



The next morning, the weather changed drastically. It was raining, windy, and oh so cold. But we arrived at Fido Farms around 8:00 a.m.







What an amazing facility! Chris Soderstrom did an awesome job turning this into a do-it-all facility. It's got pens, arenas, fields, indoor, outdoor, sheep, agility, off-leash dog areas, etc. Here's a couple of photos. I didn't take many of the competition itself, as it rained the entire day.



The barn we hung out in for the most part:





From what I understand, at one point, the property used to be a cattle ranch, but it was obvious there was some type of horse stuff going on. These stalls are great for keeping dogs.





View from the barn. This very sweet lady with her Beardies was a joy. I am horrified that I don't remember her name and will have to look it up. These Beardies were trained very nicely, and her handling of her dogs was beautiful. I really enjoyed watching their runs.









The judge (Janie) and her timer and scribe (one of which is Carolyn, aka BCXFour) are to be commended for sticking it out in the nasty windy cold weather under nothing but this tarp.





A view of a couple of the arenas...





One of the other structures people were watching the trial from. There was a better view from here.





This lovely old barn was another such spot:





This guy caught my interest. I'm not sure what breed he is, but he sure is cute.





One of the other rams.





Chris was amazing. She and her dog, Rose, set sheep all day long - standing out in the rain and wind with no cover, and never once complaining.





The judge and her dedicated helpers again.





This is one of the dogs who was helping in the pens, shucking sheep out to Chris as needed.





The trial was a lot of fun and it seemed everyone had a good time! Echo and I ran in Level III. The run started out tight and fast, and I wondered how I was going to make it through the entire course without a down. She was pushy and pushy and pushy through the part with all the pens. Once we got into the field where we had to do our drive, crossdrive, pen and shed, she loosened up and relaxed quite nicely and this part of the course was actually very pretty for us. Zero points off on the pen and shed, and very little off on the entire drive. We ended up with a 90, and 3rd place.



We went to dinner with Carolyn at this great restaurant in Olympia that served a really good Cider. Shared a pitcher of that (thank you, Carolyn!) while we chatted it up like girls do. It was a pleasure to meet her and nice to get to know her a bit while we were there. Carolyn, hopefully we'll run into eachother again soon.



Back to the hotel, and I crashed out pretty quick. Up early the next morning, and we headed out to Frog's Breath, where I judged all day. I did not take a single photo all day, but not from lack of desire. The weather wasn't nearly as bad, nearly as cold, or nearly as wet. The sun would shine and the hawks would fly between rain storms. And everything was green, green, green. Frog's Breath is another gorgeous facility that is set up perfectly for ranch course stuff, on top of being very effective for day-to-day stock management. This was yet another flawlessly run trial thanks to Barb Davenport, Elsie Rhodes, Chris Soderstrom and everyone who helped them!



Echo and I ran first under Elsie. We ran tight, we ran fast, we ran a lot, and we ran out of time. We showed everyone what not to do. Echo Monster lived up to her name.



The rest of the day ran smoothly and we left town by about 5:00 p.m. We headed back towards Pendleton, spending the night in some seedy little town (whose name escapes me, which is okay because I won't be going back there any time soon) in a very seedy Motel 6. Up fairly early the next morning, and made a quick stopover at the Heppner trial.



A view of the trial field.





Don Helsley was judging.





Got there just in time to see Dianne run Zorro. Apparently, the Heppner sheep have a reputation all their own. There is a very strong draw one way, and the dogs really needed to work to keep everything online.

























Scott Glen with Maid, maybe? I didn't have a run order, so this is just a guess.

























An LGC (Livestock Guardian Cow) perhaps?





Dianne and Zorro doing exhaust after their run ...





Maggie McClure at the pen. (Dianne, is that who this was?)





Zorro:

















Sue Wessel's dog sending sheep back up to setout. (Sue, if you read this, which dog is that?)









We headed back to Boise and got home in time to take pictures of the four new arrivals - 3 boys and one girl.



This is Pepe's new girlfriend.





One of the boys...

















Justin was taken with them...





Jaenne and the girl...





The whole crew:





















I think the moms had enough of me, so I headed in the house.





Happy tails,

Jodi