Who Rescued Who?: April 2015

Monday, April 27, 2015

Denied Adoption, I Took a Dark Path

Kiki: Grunge era fashion victim
with stray dog in Puerto Rico.

Even in the 90's, tough adoption standards made me skirt ethics.

I must confess that when I tried to adopt my first 2 dogs from Arizona shelters I was soundly rejected both times. Granted, I was in my early twenties and had dyed my hair black at the time, so it’s possible the staff thought I had priorities other than being a dog baby mom, but I was happily involved with an animal rights organization, worked in a doggy daycare/boarding facility and had grown up not only with dogs, but with an amazing variety of animals, some of which were brought to us by neighbors because they were sick, lost or injured. I considered myself rather a catch when it came to animal companionship. And yet here I was being told an apartment was inappropriate for the dog. So my chosen baby was returned to her 4x4 prison cell until someone with a palatial mansion happened by and wanted her. It made me terribly sad and made little sense.

Pop and the pooch. A teensy bit of mis-
representation with the best of intentions.

So I sent my Marine father in to adopt her. He was a very noble, law abiding guy, but like John Wayne, happily broke rules that were unjust or just plain silly. He walked out of the shelter carrying my Joey like a baby. Drill sergeants look so cute with puppies.

Turns out a dog will do alright in an apartment if you walk them, make sure all their needs are met, and love, love, love them.

Then came Elli. I went to a different shelter to adopt her. By now I had moved into a house with a fenced yard. The shelter where Elli resided would be happy to know this, but since I was kind of a doggy kidnapper on the lam, I did not report that I had changed from an apartment and could now better accommodate a dog, nor did I indicate that I had ever set foot in a shelter for any reason ever. I presented as a fresh faced ingénue about to embark on her first adventure into dog adoption because I was utterly paranoid. What if they found out about me and confiscated Joey!? I lied about having another dog because I could feel the heat, if you know what I mean, but my confidence that I was no longer in an apartment emboldened me. When I told them proudly about my beautiful grassy yard, they asked how tall the fence was. At the time this threw me for a bit of a loop. Was it a trick? I hesitated then told them it was about 4 feet. Surely this was an acceptable height.

Joey and Elli. They are no longer with me,
but I will love them forever.

I was rejected yet again. I don’t think they had an actual buzzer or that “Wah, waaaaah” sound to accompany my humiliation, but I didn’t let it deter me. I looked into Elli’s eyes and silently promised her that while I was going to walk away, a quiet man with a crew cut was coming back for her very, very soon.

The funny part is, when my dear dad went to adopt Elli, a boxer mix puppy with tiny little feet, they were filming a promotional video for the shelter. They filmed the whole adoption process with my dad, the dog rescue equivalent of the guy under-aged kids pay to go into a convenience store to buy them beer. He carried little Elli out much like he had carried Joey, her little paws clutching his strong neck. Well now they could absolutely and without question ID our illicit adoption scam ring. I remember when he brought her to my house I was waiting anxiously on the porch. He walked up to me and handed over the warm little bundle. I thanked him profusely and we

Elli: Little dog, big attitude.

laughed a bit, as criminals tend to do when they get away with it. As he walked away, back to his International Scout (an SUV before SUVs) she watched him go with a sad expression.

My dad didn’t live too much longer after that. She turned out to be a tough guy just like him.

Turns out that in reality, my fence was a perfectly fine height. Luckily the two puppies got along splendidly – which was truly a relief because that part of the plan was left entirely to fate, my biggest potential error in the whole adoption.

Joey and Elli in their couch potato golden years.

Joey and Elli lived 14 more years each, passing away within less than a year of one another. The silence of a home once occupied by dogs that is suddenly bereft of their joyful noise is deafening.

They were my buddies and I know I made mistakes with them along the way...starting with their improper adoption, but they had a lot of love, a lot of fun, and a little gas sometimes. I hope I am lucky enough to always have a couple of dogs kicking me in the abdomen while I'm sleeping. I think if I have to go into assisted living I will just ask to be boarded at a dog kennel.

There are times when the standards are so high for adopting animals that very good people are weeded out. It's a loss for the animal, the potential adopter, as well as the shelter. So many of them are underfunded and full to capacity. The staff in many of these places are volunteers or employees who are probably overworked and underpaid, but are called to save animals and do it with passion. Should they relax their standards? I don't think so - not at all. I will gladly abide home visits and lengthy applications because I know that this process makes it more likely that animals are going to people who will treat them properly - hopefully like family. Urine samples? Yes. Need some blood? Fine.

Joey's toddler years. Playing with an orange.

I have read of people outraged that they were rejected, who then turned to a breeder or
pet shop to purchase a dog or other animal. It is in every way a tragedy. It saddens me deeply and it's a flaw in our system, but I truly cannot think of a better way to screen adopters. I wish there was a scanner that could be swept over a person to instantly reveal their character in a tidy printout. Are there overzealous rescuers who are jaded enough that they make it impossible for loving adopters to walk away with an animal in need? Of course, but we can't risk the alternative of handing over animals with little more than the a hope they'll be safe.

-Kiki Nusbaumer

Monday, April 20, 2015

The Dreaded Dewclaw

This overzealous reenactment shows how a
dewclaw can be snagged in tall weeds during play.

My dog has snagged both her dewclaws (the oddly placed claw that sits rather high up on a dog’s front legs and is probably evolving into a thumb so she can more easily grasp a beer for me out of the fridge). A dog rarely has these claws on her hind legs, and if he does he may get teased and bullied at the dog park because he has polydactyly. The whole 5 clawed arrangement on the back legs is called hind-limb-specific preaxial polydactyly. Rolls off the tongue.

I took my dog (we shall refer to her as “her own poop breath” to protect her identity. OK no, her name is Molly. Molly the doodie snacker) to the vet because she snagged her dewclaw. It bled and she cried. I do not want to hear that crying again as it made my mommy instincts curl up into a ball of horror. I asked if it would be best to just have them removed. My vet, Dr. Jennifer Kistler, said she sees these injuries very frequently, but the removal of the front dewclaws is essentially major surgery. Since my vet is awesomeness in a lab coat, that was enough for me, but for you guys I will throw in another expert.

According to Dr. M. Christine Zinc, a consultant on canine sports medicine, designer of

Yin and yang: A sister to rest with always makes
the healing process more enjoyable.

rehabilitation and conditioning programs for canine athletes and an award winning author, in her article “Do the Dew (claws),” this accident prone little digit is attached by five tendons. The muscles attached to these tendons atrophy if they are not used, causing trouble for the dog like carpal arthritis and joint injuries, which are much more trouble than a dewclaw injury.

When a dog runs, this little claw does in fact hit the ground and helps with turning.

Without the claw the leg twists and injuries develop. Dealing with a snagged dewclaw injury is much better for the dog than the removal of that surprisingly important toe.

If your dog happens to have dewclaws on his hind-legs are your troubles doubled? No indeed. Your freaky little dog’s back dewclaws are not made the same way as the front and basically are held on with skin only. Some dogs even have more than one little claw back there, all huddled together like a bunch of tiny bananas hanging from a hairy banana tree.

Damaged dewclaw.

Molly now has two little nubbins where a hard nail should be. They look like worm segments hanging out of the torn remains of a chitinous cave. Thank goodness my special poop eater wasn't about to participate in the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. They are a little tender but Dr. Kistler says the nails will grow back, perhaps slightly oddly shaped, but a girl who eats her own poo isn't very vain.

At the end of the day the reason her nails snagged was because I allowed them to grow too long. The dewclaw is relatively easy to overlook, but when it grows into a macaroni shaped C or worse: a tight curl snagging at rug fibers, tall grass, blankets and dog bed threads, you are asking for trouble and the dog’s the one who feels it. It’s going to take some work but I think she’ll forgive me. I learned this lesson about dewclaws the hard way.

-Kiki Nusbaumer

http://www.caninesports.com/uploads/1/5/3/1/15319800/dewclawexplanation.pdf

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewclaw

Friday, April 17, 2015

Who’s News?

Tasty niblets.

The Week of April 12 – April 17

Dog Team Searches for Lost Hiker

13 species we might have to say goodbye to in 2015

Abu, senior dog rescued from garbage in Spain

Cats communicate through meows, blinks and whiskers

Lil Bub makes appearance at Denver County Fair to help raise funds for animals

Last male white rhino protected by armed guards

Go ahead, try to poach this rhino.

Solving the mystery of dog domestication

Friday, April 10, 2015

In a nursing home or underneath the porch, In the US we dispose of the elderly

Here in the United States we don’t do as well by our elderly as China, Japan, Korea, France or the Mediterranean and Latin cultures. We are a youth centered society, relegating our elderly to a lonely, isolated existence or hiding them away in nursing homes. They get little respect and little support. Rather than placing them on a pedestal or considering them the core of the family unit, we as Americans often consider them a burden.

Thor and his dad.
Thor was 11 when
he was adopted.

We do, however, treat our companion animals quite well. Well many of them. The rest we euthanize because there are just so many in the system they don’t fit in the shelters. These unfortunates are not adopted. They are put down by the millions. As Marleen Oetz from LNF Dog Rescue says, “Half of them don’t make it out alive.”

We really like puppies and kittens.

Today I read about some elderly dogs. They are treated much the same way as elderly Americans.

Chelo at Muttville Senior Dog Rescue
(Photo by Muttville). www.muttville.org

Chelo

In an article in Dog Heirs online, Chelo, a senior Pomeranian, was surrendered by his “family.” The reason: Too old. The article goes on to say he lived outside 24 hours a day, underneath the porch, utterly alone day in and day out. And the capper is that they shamelessly informed the shelter staff at Muttville Senior Dog Rescue in San Francisco, CA, where they dumped the dog, that they “got a newer dog to replace,” like he’s a light bulb or something. They actually wrote on the surrender paperwork, probably read it back to themselves (yes they can read and write) but felt no guilt or shame, no desire to pretend to be decent humans by lying and saying something- ANYTHING- besides “Too old. Got a newer dog to replace.” I think our shelter system should have a black list shared among them and when creatures like this come in to dispose of the inconvenient little life they had a whim for and then lost interest, they get on the list and they no longer have access to living beings as property ever again. I can think of an appropriate name for the list.

Chelo has since been adopted and has now begun his happy life with a loving family.

Baus at www.socalbulldogrescue.org (Photo
by Southern California Bulldog Rescue)

Baus

I also read on the Deaf Dogs Rock Facebook page about Baus. He’s a ten and a half year old bulldog. He was surrendered to Southern California Bulldog Rescue because he was “Old and smells.” His neglect was so thorough that he has cherry eye in both eyes and other eye maladies which have brought him to near blindness, severe dental issues, and ear infections that have rendered him deaf. He smells because he has been allowed to fall apart piece by piece. His new caregiver says, “He wants nothing yet gives everything he has to you. I love kissing his face. And his smelly breath from his rotten teeth is just the cologne of a tender old man to me.”

Baus is currently in foster care and is available for adoption. And he will be adopted, I have no doubt. Under the post one person commented, “Can’t wait ‘til his ex owners get old and smell.” And they will, I have no doubt.

A violent end

According to Dr. Jared Diamond, UCLA professor of geography and physiology, traditional Nomadic tribes sometimes had to abandon their elderly on treacherous journeys. Aché Indians who were plagued with famine assigned young men to essentially assassinate the elderly with an axe, spear or the practice of burying them alive. No doubt this was a situation in which sacrificing the one for the many was a necessary evil, but burying them alive? One can’t help but think the youngsters who used this technique for culling the group shouldn’t be given responsibility for a pet.

Human vs Canine

As I have grown older (I am not yet at an age where the tribe would leave me alone on a desert trail to fend for myself or stick me in a nursing home), my philosophy and attitude toward dogs has evolved in such a way that it may be subject to ridicule by some pragmatics in our society. When my dog passed away I kept the extent of my grief largely

Ruby, forever young, died suddenly
from liver failure at 8 years old.

to myself, aware that some of my friends and even family would think to themselves, it’s not a child after all. It’s just a dog. No, she was not quite a child. It’s difficult to define how I relate to my companion dogs. I don’t try much to compare dogs with human children. Not really less than or more than. Equal to? In some ways that feels like comparing apples to oranges. Yes human children probably pee in the living room quite often, but do they steal your underwear and eat the crotch out of it? Probably not. Can your human children join sports teams? Yes. But can they catch a tennis ball in their mouth? Not likely. And kids always laugh when they pass gas. My dogs don’t even care.

At the end of the day there are two sides to the story of the abandoned elderly dog. There are those who cause suffering and those who rescue. I think Anne Frank said it best:

“In spite of everything I still believe people are really good at heart.”

But maybe dogs are just a tiny bit better.

-Kiki Nusbaumer

http://theweek.com/articles/462230/how-elderly-are-treated-around-world

http://www.dogheirs.com/tamara/posts/5250-update-on-neglected-senior-dog-deemed-too-old-by-former-owners-looking-for-a-new-home

http://newsroom.ucla.edu/stories/jared-diamond-on-aging-150571

www.facebook.com/deafdogsrock

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ach%C3%A9_people