One Small Step Toward a Better Dog Shelter

The facility for my local humane society is only five years old. At that youthful age, you’d think it would actually be as “state-of-the-art” as it’s described on the organization’s Web site. Sure, the colorful murals of the lobby warmly welcome visitors and the classical music playing in the dog wing shows consideration for the comfort of the animals; the staff’s upbeat and caring attitude is commendable. But none of these conceals the harsh environs the architect thought appropriate for homeless canines.

The adult dogs reside in a large, open concrete-block room in rows of cages with concrete floors that are separated by concrete block walls. Lots o’ concrete and NO apparent soundproofing, which makes for a VERY noisy habitat. And to a pooch who’s scared or nervous or troubled in any way, the din of the room must be unbearable. Especially when the barking begins, and it takes only one tiny terrier yelp to get 100+ dogs going. The music meant to calm the residents only adds to the cacophony. Between the noise and the concrete greyness/hardness, the place can really do a number on you.

But last month, the shelter held a special fundraising drive for one purpose: to purchase a bed for each dog cage. Donors were asked to contribute $50 per bed. And what do you know? In no time at all, caring folks met the quota.

Now each pooch has one soft place to go to relax or seek solace. Isn’t that wonderful? It’s such a simple effort, but one that makes all the difference for these homeless creatures as they wait for their future to begin.

[Top photo from Sweet Nothings Designs; dog photo from the Lexington Humane Society.]

Too Many Love-A-Bulls

On a bike errand yesterday (I may not be able to stay on a bicycle, but that doesn’t make me afraid of them), I noticed a man walking across a field with a blue pit bull and a pink box. I slowed to watch them. The dog grew animated as the man put the box on the ground, for out tumbled her puppies of every color. The wee things were mostly waggly tails. I wondered whether the guy’s landlord (the field stood adjacent to a string of apartment complexes) knew he was breeding pit bulls. Or maybe this was a one-time accident and the momma would soon be spayed.

This was on my mind this morning when I learned that today is World Spay Day. Not really a Hallmark kind of holiday, but a perfect moment to share more local news with you.

Nearly 20 percent of homeless dogs in Fayette County, Kentucky, are pit-bull mixes, and those adorable, bouncy pups I saw yesterday will only add to the problem. However, the local humane society received a substantial grant from PetSmart Charities to offer FREE spay/neuter services to pitties here through a program dubbed Love-A-Bull. Included with the spay/neuter service are FREE rabies vaccinations and city licenses.

It doesn’t get better than that! Pit-bull guardians have no excuse for not taking advantage of this generous offer. Bless PetSmart Charities for getting the ball rolling. Now let’s help spread the word.

Pitties everywhere deserve a good home where they’re loved, never exploited.

[The pile o’ pitties (and kitten) pictured are the stars of the blog My Two Pitties. For a good portion of 2012, though, there were three pit bulls: Stray and unspayed “Shaka” appealed to the blended family for help one day and they obliged. Here’s a link to all the posts related to her happy rescue story.]

Ready, set…

This is my nod to the Daytona 500. (Really just an excuse to post this photo.)

Some family members of a friend of mine will be in the stands, while my friend stays home with everyone’s pooches—seven dogs in her charge this weekend!

Hmm. Which would you prefer: Watch tricked-out cars zoom around a track or tend to the needs of seven affectionate dogs of various sizes and breeds?

Breed-Specific Legislation: Crafted by the Uninformed, Supported by the Uninformed

[Artist unknown.]

Heart Attack

It’s that time of year again. As Valentine’s Day draws near, businesses of every kind try to capitalize on our affection obligations. Hearts abound—on cards, in jewelry, as the shape of cookies and pizzas. At the sight of hearts, hopeful recipients quiver with expectation; gift-givers quiver over the appropriateness of their chosen gifts.

At the sight of hearts, I fondly remember a certain pooch. Valentine’s Day can be far in the distance and I still see hearts everywhere I look—like the absent tree branch (above) I noticed during a January walk.

My beloved canine had a heart-shaped brindle patch on her left side. Children in the ’hood found it magical and often asked how and why we tattooed her. [I thought then that this was just one of those funky thought processes of young kids. I’ve since discovered that some people really do TATTOO their dogs. Ugh.]

Anyway, you’ve one more day to arrange that perfect Valentine. Here’s some humor from the Appalachians to get your creative juices flowing:

Lines for Valentines
by Anne Shelby, from Appalachian Studies

If you won’t be my valentine
The moon can’t glow. The stars can’t shine.
The corn won’t grow and the forks won’t tine
If you won’t be my valentine.

If you won’t be my valentine
I’ll hold my breath. I’ll pout. I’ll pine.
I’ll stomp and spit and swear and whine
If you won’t be my valentine.

If you won’t be my valentine
I’ll drink a pint of turpentine.
I’ll hang myself on a kudzu vine.
I’ll exhaust myself in nervous rhyme.
I’m liable to commit a crime
If you won’t be my valentine.

If you will be my valentine
On chocolate cherries we shall dine
And drink our fill of warm red wine
And not get up till half past nine

And step out light and dress up fine
And seek what’s silly and sublime
And we’ll be happy all the time.
If you will be my valentine.

Black Bears and Bad Dogs

“Will it bite?”

The folks had stopped their International Scout along the road out of curiosity. They’d spotted the bear in a field, where it had just been released by wildlife manager Mary McConnell. The bear had been drugged in order to transport her to this habitat and she was still a bit groggy.

“Will it bite?” asked one of the International Scout folks.

“If you corner her,” McConnell replied. She paused, and added, “A mouse will bite if you corner it. Of course, the bear has a bigger bite.”

This little scene is from John McPhee’s “A Textbook Place for Bears” and it makes me want to hug Mary McConnell. “Will it bite?” is the most frequent question I hear when I’m accompanying an animal of any kind. It’s exasperating. Could there be a more foolish question? I will bite you if I think it’s the only way to get you to leave me alone!

Any animal (humans included) with teeth may bite. Even animals without teeth (like geese) may clamp down on you hard enough to hurt. Does that make the animal “bad”?

Yes, if we’re to believe Kevin Renfro, a local personal-injury lawyer.

I’ve nothing against personal-injury lawyers—we all have to make a living. However, I do have a problem when said p-i lawyer goes on television while holding his two adorable dachshunds (they’re GOOD, he says) and tries to reel in new customers: “If you’ve been bitten by a BAD dog, you may need help getting your fair compensation from the insurance company…”

A bite is not a character flaw, Mr. Renfro. A bite is a SIGN—an indication of a health problem, a misinterpretation of circumstances, a territorial act of protection. A bite doesn’t make an animal bad. I would hope that you (and those lawyers who specialize in dog-bite litigation) have some basic knowledge of canine behavior so you’re not perpetuating myths and disseminating misinformation on television and in courts.

Every bite tells a story, Mr. Renfro, and without “hearing” (i.e., understanding) the dog’s point of view, you’re missing the most important element of the tale. If you don’t feel the need to delve deeper into canine behavior for your work, I urge you to do it for those cutie-pie dachshunds of yours. “Good” dogs shouldn’t have to settle for “bad” guardians.

[Photo of bear by Lil Polley; photo of Mr. Renfro from his TV ad.]

Understanding My Place: A Letter and Neil Gaiman

Stranger in a Strange Land – No. 26

The other day my husband brought home a glossy, four-color, eight-paged publication he’d found on the sidewalk in our neighborhood. He intended to toss it into a recycling bin, but when he realized what it was, he knew he had to share it with me first.

I pawed through it—picture after captioned picture of one senior couple’s 2012 activities: celebrating milestones with grandchildren and former exchange students; vacationing with friends and family in Italy, Monaco, and China; learning to surf in Hawaii; hosting Union Rags and the Wyeths at the Kentucky Derby; acting as professional photographers for a wedding, building custom furniture, and so on. And so on…

Was it a self-published booklet to commemorate these events?

NO! It was their Christmas Letter to friends and extended family!

It’s exactly why people have come to hate such correspondence. It was so over-the-top it could have been a parody of the genre. But it wasn’t. It was a chirpy report of all the stellar 2012 moments one family experienced. And they sent it to someone in MY neighborhood, which can only mean (or I HOPE it means) that the recipients lead similar lives and didn’t take said Christmas Letter as the disturbing show of pretentiousness I did. Once again, I felt quite removed from my neighbors.

I had just been reading about Cabal, a dog rescued from a roadside by author Neil Gaiman. I learned that Cabal suffered from the same condition my pooch did (degenerative myelopathy), that British-born Gaiman now lives in the Midwest, that his relationship with Cabal was of the unexpected and nonpareil variety… Heck! I have more in common with Neil Gaiman than I do with these Christmas Letter–sending neighbors.

Hmmm. Maybe I can work Gaiman into my own Christmas Letter this year. Maybe I, too, can incite envy and head-shaking during the holidays.


This is part of an ongoing series regarding my transition from the Land of Lincoln to the Bluegrass State. For a list of previous articles in the series, just select Stranger in a Strange Land from the right of Lull, under “Choose a topic that interests you.”

[Photo of Cabal and Neil Gaiman by Kimberly Butler and titled Unconditional Love.]

Birdbaths as Adoption Tools

Oklahoman Larry Flick was in his garden when he heard a splash. He turned to investigate and photographed this in his birdbath:

What a find! I can’t entice so much as a sparrow into my artful birdbath, much less a spotted pooch.

Turns out the dog was homeless as well as overheated. Until, of course, he paired up with a birdbath—a cute-as-a-button PR strategy that quickly got him adopted by Mr. Flick.

Where Dogs and Jewelry Converge

Need a distraction today? If you like dogs, the online Vintage & Collectible Dog Jewelry Museum is worth a visit.

The jewelry exhibited is part of the personal costume collection of Deb Schneider and spans the decades from 1900 to the present. It can be searched by dog breed, manufacturer/artist, or jewelry type. But don’t get too attached to anything you see—Schneider isn’t parting with any of it.

Feeding the Blog

Writing is slow right now and I’m way, way behind with all the information I’ve been wanting to share with you. Until I create some proper posts, please enjoy this Irish ditty about Loca, the pug who can’t run:

Loca’s running impairment is caused by a brain disorder. It’s operable yet risky. As a vet counseled, as long as Loca isn’t bothered or being hurt by his differentness, why imperil his life trying to make him “normal”? He has everything he needs—canine pals, exercise, medical care, general good health, love; why risk all that to change his gait?

And with the help of his clever humans, Loca—just as he is—provides the world with a lesson and a giggle.

A Tale of Two Nubbins

If it were a movie, you wouldn’t believe it. This local news story is as uplifting and melodramatic as any Hallmark Hall of Fame program. And it all started with a feisty little dog named Nubbin.

The first half of the tale started on November 28, when Nubbin chased a groundhog and ended up caught in a fence. Nubbin is the only companion of Jessie Brothers, an elderly man who survives on disability with a host of health challenges while residing in a house he may soon lose. According to a neighbor, Brothers has no family (and, may I add, no perceived purpose in life) other than Nubbin.

Somehow Brothers managed to get his Jack Russell to a nearby clinic, where a stark diagnosis would change his life: Nubbin’s leg, broken in three places, would require complicated and extremely expensive surgery. If Brothers couldn’t afford it (and we already know he couldn’t), the only other alternative was to euthanize little Nubbin.

“My dog, my dog,” Brothers moaned as he crumpled in grief to the floor. A 911 call was placed and firemen (as the first responders) arrived on the scene. When one of them, Anthony Johnson, realized the tragedy that had prompted this emergency, he made the unusual choice of getting more deeply involved.

Johnson couldn’t begin to take on all of Brothers’ problems, but he could spare Nubbin’s life by paying for the surgery, and he knew just who to turn to for the best medical care—a veterinarian he’d met during a fire inspection. The vet agreed to take Nubbin’s case as part of an instructional component of his vet students’ classwork. And when an employee of the vet clinic recounted this story to her father, a retired fireman, he offered to pay for half of Nubbin’s medical care.

While Nubbin underwent surgery, Brothers was recovering at the aptly named Good Samaritan Hospital. His neighbor, the one mentioned earlier, picked him up from Good Samaritan and vowed to help him care for Nubbin during the dog’s crucial recuperation period. (If Nubbin’s leg doesn’t heal properly, he might need it amputated.) After surgery, the clinic staff began worrying about Nubbin, though: He seemed depressed, which could impede his healing. But as soon as the pooch caught sight of Brothers, Nubbin regained his vigor. Fireman Anthony Johnson stood by to witness the heartwarming reunion, and gratitude flowed in all directions.

End of story?

Not by a long shot. Across the country in Oklahoma was a woman who had a dream.

On December 1, Carla Kinnard dreamed that she and her husband, Jessie Kinnard, had at last found the biological father he’d spent years searching for online. Thinking the dream might be significant, Carla took one more stab at trying to find Jessie’s father, whom he hadn’t seen since he was a child—a child nicknamed “Nubbin.”

You see where this is going, don’t you? Carla found the news article about Nubbin the dog. Immediately, the cast of characters expanded to include some long-lost and unknown siblings; the plot thickened to reveal a tragic past; the string of coincidences twisted into a brief time years ago when the two Jessies, father and son, actually lived within two blocks of one another. And a reunion of epic proportions was in the making.

But the story still isn’t over. Many questions are yet to be answered: Will Nubbin’s leg have to be amputated? Will the siblings accept one another? Will the old man lose his home?

Time will tell. But no matter how it unfolds, the bond between Nubbin and his companion certainly sparked the compassion of a lot of people and pulled them together, if only for a short time. If not for one little dog, one lonely old man may never have stumbled upon the happiness he experienced when his first Nubbin returned home.

[Photos by Charles Bertram.]

Look Who’s Behind the Wheel!

One of the stories I heard while visiting with my family last week involved car trouble. My sister was travelling in her powder-blue vintage VW Bug (similar to the one pictured) with her trusty terrier when the trouble began. A tow truck was called to get the Bug to a repair shop, but the driver refused to allow a dog in the cab of his truck. What to do?

The solution must have turned a lot of heads as the convoy made its way through town: Manning the wheel of the vintage vehicle (which attracted attention all by itself) was a small, buff-colored terrier—who looked for all the world as if driving a car was no different for him than fetching a ball.

But maybe driving really isn’t all that extraordinary for dogs. Check out this video from New Zealand:

Granted, it’s a crazy gimmick. Yet I hope it gets the message across about the intelligence of shelter dogs. After all, my sister found her accomplished chauffeur when he was but a pup abandoned in a parking lot.

Spread the word: Shelter dogs rock…and drive!


[Pic from Das Blog.]

BOOKreMarks: What the Dog Said

I scooped up an unexpected treasure last week at a library sale. It’s one of those “gift” books: small and easy to handle, photographs on every spread, lean on text. It’s Dylan Schaffer’s Dog Stories with black-and-white, sepia-washed photographs by Jon Weber. The stories are told by dogs from dogs’ perspectives.

I don’t often fall for such stuff. Heaven only knows how many blogs and books exist in this category. And the ones written by critters who have speech impediments or spelling challenges grate on me. (I know, I know: The I Can Has Cheezburger? captions fit squarely into this description. It took me a long time to come round to them.)

But Schaffer’s dogs are different. They’re wise and poignant and engaging. They’re a perfect holiday gift for the dog lovers in your life. Here’s an excerpt—a dialogue between a couple of Greyhounds, Merlin and Palermo:

M: What makes us dogs?

P: Why do you ask?

M: I sometimes think the things that make me easily identifiable as a dog—my bark, my smell—are the least important things about me, about us. We are unique among the species, but for reasons seldom articulated.

P: That is because we live in a borrowed world. Like all domesticated creatures we exist as a subset of the experiences of our masters. And like all slaves we are valued exclusively for those traits which make us useful: we are obedient, we are protective. But our trials, loves, hopes, and dreams, these are obscured by our owners’ need for us to be dog-like.

M: So what is the one thing that most makes you a dog?

P: I can serve without being servile. And you?

M: I can see into the hearts of those who love me.

[Photograph by Barbara Karant—professional photographer, Greyhound enthusiast, and evangelist for rescue organization Greyhounds Only.]

A View from the ’Hood

It may be the first of December, but as you can see in the photo, no one told the roses.

On a walk toward the grocery store, a tent sign stood outside near a dog groomer’s business. On one side, the sign read: Full Grooming Packages $45.00. On the other side was—well, you can see for yourself in the photo.

The groomer isn’t SELLING just any puppies but CHRISTMAS puppies! Ohsospecial. Like there aren’t enough puppies looking for homes already. I could go on about the pitfalls of trying to housetrain a pup in winter, but I’ll let it go.

Fortunately, to revive my good mood, there’s usually a splendid sunset to watch in the Bluegrass.

A Gentle Giant Comes A-Callin’

My Thanksgiving kicked off with an unexpected and magnificent visitor. He was staying with a neighbor who knew I’d want to meet him. What she didn’t know was that I had been reading about his relatives in Shepherds of Coyote Rocks by Cat Urbigkit. Now my neighbor’s guest was about to bring part of the book to life for me—the part about the great guardians of sheep the world over, the Anatolian Shepherd.

Yup. I got to hang with a massive, laidback pooch named Luke.

He never looked at me, but Luke never hesitated to let me know he thought I should pet him nonstop. We were outside on a warm and sunny morning, so why not take advantage of the beautiful day? I sat in the yard and fulfilled my obligations to my new friend.

It was hard to reconcile the oversized lap dog beside me with the fight-to-the-death guardians Anatolians are bred to be: working dogs used to protect livestock from all predators—including wolves, mountain lions, and grizzlies. But my time with Luke made it easy to understand why the sheep in Shepherds of Coyote Rocks put their absolute trust in their canine guardians. Anatolians are an unlikely combination of extreme gentleness and extreme protectiveness.

At one point, Luke sprawled out next to me and extended his front leg across my lap—to make sure, I guess, that I didn’t try to get away from him. I didn’t mind. I could have stayed like that all day.

[The pic is Chakra, an Anatolian up for adoption through the National Anatolian Shepherd Network.]

Take Advantage of Black Friday Adoption Specials

Did you know that black cats and dogs, like old or disabled dogs and cats, are the last to get adopted from shelters? Here are a few reasons why they get ignored:

1. Their online pictures don’t look like much—black coats are difficult to photograph—so they’re overlooked by potential adopters.

2. Black fur and faces are difficult to read, so people can’t easily understand the intentions or emotions of black animals (even some canines have trouble reading black dogs).

3. People are idiots. I mean, SOME people can’t get past their belief that black is bad luck, especially when it’s on a cat.

Today is Black Friday at shelters across the country. They’re offering special deals and deep discounts on black critters of all ages. If you’re in the market for a pooch or kitty, go BLACK today. I guarantee their ebony coats won’t bring you bad luck.

[Top pic from Healing Rescue Dogs, middle pic from Petfinder, and bottom pic from I Can Has Cheezburger?]

Old Dog, New View

Since enjoying Tom Ryan’s Following Atticus—a memoir about identity and leading a meaningful life set against a background of Ryan hiking the White Mountains with his unique Schnauzer, Atticus—I’ve been following his blog. This May, Ryan got wind of a 15-year-old Schnauzer on Death Row.

The dog was left at a kill shelter by the very family who had cared for him all his life. The facts are a tad murky, but it seems that for some time they had been keeping the pooch in a crate all day for the sake of convenience, for the Schnauzer had become deaf and mostly blind. He was also extremely arthritic, making mobility a challenge, and the family had given up on him.

The Schnauzer’s health, not surprisingly, quickly declined at the shelter and euthanasia was looking like his only future. That is, until a Schnauzer rescue and Tom Ryan stepped into the picture.

Ryan believed the pooch deserved to be loved and to live in comfort. Judging from the dog’s health and age, he had only a couple of months left before reaching a natural end. Ryan wanted to give him dignity for those two months. So he adopted Will.

Will wasn’t an easy customer. He’d grown to distrust humans and bit Ryan repeatedly. But Ryan knew all about betrayal and distrust, knew relationships take time to develop; he didn’t hold it against Will.

Ryan did whatever he could to give comfort to Will: “Will likes to be tucked in and feel secure against the night. He likes flowers. He likes music playing near his head where he appears to get more out of the vibration than the actual sound. So we get him flowers, cover him at night, and play music for him. If all it takes to make someone feel loved is to give them a few simple pleasures in life, why not do it?”

What surprised Ryan was how much Will began to change, physically as well as emotionally. With proper medical treatment, his pain was managed, his mobility stabilized, and his personality started to emerge. Will wanted to live.

It’s now well past that two-month mark Ryan originally thought he was dealing with, and Will is a new dog. He nuzzles rather than bites, hangs out with Atticus, attends book signings with Ryan, and has even taken up mountain hiking (albeit in a stroller) with his new tribe. This month for the first time, he showed interest in sleeping with the humans in their bed. He’s proof positive that old doesn’t mean done, that a meaningful life may be achieved even at the geriatric stage of life, that love is always worthwhile.

November is Adopt-A-Senior-Pet Month. If you’re in the market for another critter or in a position to foster one, please consider an elder animal. They have so much left to give to those willing to recognize it.

Watch a video (second from the top left) of Will romping in the yard. If you want a “pawtographed” edition of Ryan’s book, here’s the info.

[Top photo of Tom and Atticus by Ken Stampfer; middle photo of Will and bottom photo of Will and Atticus by Tom Ryan.]

A Dog, A Cat, and A Cabin

I learned from my mother this week that the Festival of Trees (as in Christmas trees) is already over in my hometown. Here in the Bluegrass, some of my neighbors have already erected Christmas trees inside their homes—not to mention wreaths, lights, and miscellaneous decorations displayed outside—and set it all alight in the evenings.

Now I like Christmas as much as anyone, but this is a wee bit early for me to get into the holiday spirit. I haven’t let go of October yet! Autumn is one of my favorite seasons and I try not to cut it short.

Autumn brings memories of a handful of long weekends spent with my husband in Door County, Wisconsin. Each time, we stayed in a utilitarian cabin at the northernmost tip of the area, away from the quaint of the touristy villages nearby. Each time, we attended a fish boil and ate enough buttery white fish and potatoes and onions plus homemade cherry pie to tide us over until we could return some other year. Each time, we bought sour cherry preserves, experienced something new (an artists’ retreat one year, a self-guided scooter tour of Washington Island the next), and each time we pined for our pets.

So one year we decided to take them along. We figured they’d be thrilled not to be left behind with a sitter. We couldn’t wait for them to smell the woods and the lakes, taste the buttery fish, watch a few wild turkeys.

Before we even reached the state line, though, we were reminded why we always left “the girls” at home. Traveling made the pooch sick and nervous, even with her best feline pal beside her. The more she fretted, the more the cat talked. The more the cat talked, the more the pooch fretted. Soon the cycle escalated into howling and vomiting; we were still four hours away from our destination.

Thankfully, once we settled into the cabin, the payoff of including our girls on our mini-vacation began to materialize, though not quite the way we’d anticipated.

Precious, our 18-year-old special-needs kitty, was in exploration overdrive. She LOVED the cabin—ran from one corner to the next as if they were Disneyland rides. She was ECSTATIC to be included and HATED when we left her alone to go somewhere. She embraced the warmth of the fire in the fireplace and “helped” with every kitchen chore.

The pooch, on the other hand—who looked for all the world like a typical country hunting dog—woofed and whimpered at every new sound. She never slept, which only exacerbated her lack of courage. The fire was evil and she couldn’t fathom why her white pal wasn’t picking up on the sinister atmosphere enfolding them. We thought some playtime in a small field would get her mind off her worries. Things went well until her face made contact with the Kong we threw for her and her eyebrow swelled. So we thought a jaunt through a wooded area would take her mind off her swollen face—the scents, the critters, the new terrain. We encouraged her to explore, but she wanted us to go in first and clear the path of the goblins she was sure lurked beneath leaves and travelled on breezes. This became difficult to manage because the pooch didn’t want to wait by herself at the edge of the woods nor did she want her people separated from each other. Clearly, our 70-pound “country” dog would have preferred to experience this alien territory in our arms rather than on the ground. Have you seen that Subaru commercial where the group of dogs go camping and end up locking themselves in the car at night after hearing the local wild animals? Our pooch should have been cast in that commercial—no training or acting necessary.

Oh, how we wished our pooch had more courage. But we didn’t hold it against her or push her to do more than she could handle. We were delighted that our elderly cat, at least, took such pleasure in her vacation environment. Her increased interest and activity alone made the entire trip worthwhile. Of all the Door County experiences we fondly remember, the weekend with our four-leggeds will remain the standout.

[Top pic is Miss P ready to go; photo of Mertha’s Cabin at The Clearing by Denny Moutray.]

Athena Adds Insult to Injury

As if there hasn’t been enough devastation and heartache in the east, a winter storm is moving in to areas already hit by Sandy. That old saying “You’re given only as much as you can handle” is bunk.

I know there are probably more people in need right now than there is help for them. Even so, I’m going to make a plug for the voiceless at risk: the animals.

A number of animal welfare organizations have been on the ground rescuing pets and wild animals from the debris. As residents continue getting evacuated, many face the wrenching inevitability of parting with their animal companions—dogs, cats, rabbits, lizards, horses. Some of the rescue organizations are taking in these cherished pets—offering housing, food, and care—for however long it takes for the families to return to a normal living environment (see video below).

Let’s do what we can to help these fine organizations help the animals and their people. Here are a few of the groups that have mobile teams in the area. The links provided take you to a secure donation page.

ASPCA
Make a donation.
Also, read about Hazel and her new friends.

Best Friends Animal Society
Make a donation.
Read how Best Friends is helping local shelters.

The Humane Society of the United States
Make a donation.
As is typical in these rescue efforts, natural disasters reveal animals who have been living for some time in neglectful or abusive situations, and those left to brave severe weather in the backyard. The Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) followed up on a tip about a house from which an elderly couple had been removed and taken to a hospital and where it was believed their animals remained. HSUS found a scared, malnourished elderly dog short-tied to a fence outside. And inside? Cats living in filth and disorder—the same filth and disorder the elderly couple had presumably contended with prior to Sandy’s arrival. Without the weather emergency, I wonder how long it would have taken for these folks and their animals to get help.

DIY Rescue and Foster
If you’re in the area, check out the Hurricane Sandy Lost & Found Pets page on Facebook set up to reunite pets with their people. Look for the pets posted. They’re probably scared and hiding, or scared and difficult to approach. Some local shelters are asking for folks to foster animals in need until the owners’ living situations have stabilized.

[AP photo by Craig Ruttle.]

When Abandonment Is Just the Beginning

Some animal shelters have drop-off areas where people may leave/“surrender” their pets anonymously, thereby transferring responsibility of the animals’ care to the shelter. This practice is not unlike the city ordinances allowing people to drop off babies at fire stations and hospitals. As much as we hate providing for such circumstances, it’s loads better than the alternative: abandonment.

I’ve heard one report after another of animals abandoned here in the Bluegrass: the dogs thrown out of cars, the puppies hidden in a dog-food bag along a road, the pregnant ponies dumped in a field, the animals left in foreclosed homes. You get the picture. Earlier this year, two hikers discovered just how far some people will go to get rid of a pet.

In the White Mountains of New England, on a stretch of wilderness travelled only by experienced purists, the hikers noticed a large box. Before they had enough time to puzzle through how and why it was there, it moved! Cautiously, they peeked inside. Staring back at them was a small, unkempt, sickly, senior dog.

Whoever left him there had taken great pains to position him where he wouldn’t be found, in an area from which he wouldn’t likely escape. But in all the person’s strategizing, s/he apparently didn’t consider how the kindness of a couple of strangers can snowball.

The hikers believed the dog would be bear bait if left on the mountainside. So they agreed to carry him to the nearest town and find a shelter that could help him.

“A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees.”
—Amelia Earhart

The shelter staff dubbed the little fellow “Scruffy” and told his story on their Facebook page, where author Tom Ryan saw it. Scruffy needed expensive medical treatment that Ryan knew the shelter could hardly afford. Since he had once benefitted from the kindness of strangers himself—or, rather, his dog had—Ryan spread the word about Scruffy’s predicament on his own Facebook page. From across the country, fans of his book, Following Atticus, quickly covered the costs for the patient. Better yet, a local couple adopted Scruffy.

Then, when a happy ending seemed on the horizon, Scruffy’s health took a dive. Once more, Ryan rallied his readers to the cause and again they came through. What’s more, the vet staff was so impressed by the number of people pulling for Scruffy that they kept their fees to a minimum—a blessing for the young couple who had adopted the forsaken pooch, never expecting the roller-coaster of worry and fear and hope he would also cost them.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because today, Scruffy is healthy and home. His journey from mountaintop abandonment to a loving family is a reminder that sometimes it really does take a village. Sometimes, it takes the kindness of many strangers to change the direction of one small life.

Was it worth it? Heck, yeah! Whenever we act together in kindness, we improve our world—if only by a tiny, furry bit.

[Photo of Davis Path by Tom Pirro; photo of Scruffy by one of his adoptive guardians, Corey Engfer.]