Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dogs. Show all posts

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



Thursday, March 12, 2015

Higher Beings

A little coffee with your healthy dose of dog hugs?
By now most of us are aware that petting a dog or cat is scientifically proven to reduce stress and depression in humans. Along with the more obvious benefits such as companionship, unconditional love, increased opportunity for exercise and socialization, interacting with an animal causes the body to release a stress-reducing hormone called oxytocin into the bloodstream and reduce the production of cortisol, which is a stress-causing hormone.  Non-human animals are good for us.

Then there’s the story of the rescued dog, Mac, whose disability left him unable to climb stairs. When a fire broke out in his family’s home he somehow dragged himself up a flight to wake them, saving them all (by Caroline Golon, halopets.com).     

The headlines are full of similar stories.  In the Huffington Post the headline reads, “Rescue Puppy Saves Owner’s Life by Alerting Her to Gas Leak” (Melissa McGlensey).  In a violent incident of road rage in Georgia, a dog leapt in front of gunfire to save his family, losing his own life (Michael Pearson, CNN).  They save our lives.

In a small town in Delaware there is a young boy who was adopted from an orphanage in Bosnia.  He has Spina Bifida and uses a wheelchair.  He visits the hospital frequently.  These things set him apart from his peers and he feels lonely.  In the same town a black dog that lost the use of his hind legs languished in foster care for nearly a year.  Loved and cared for by his foster/rescuers at LNF Dog Rescue, they were stunned that the gentle dog was passed over again and again by potential adopters.   When the boy’s family heard about the dog who uses a wheelchair they immediately adopted him.  Now the boy and the dog are like brothers, no longer lonely, no longer the outsider, leaving their wheelchairs to swim together in the family’s therapeutic pool like happy fish.  They rescue one another every day.

Family Photo.
An integral part of the human condition is the fact that many of us feel rescued by our rescues.  Our loneliness is mitigated by their presence, our grief is truncated by their affection and our lives are changed indelibly because they are a part of it.  Indeed this is the case with all companion animals if the human among them is on par with this phase of the evolutionary process.  That is, sharing the viewpoint that the other beings with whom we share this planet are not our property, but our responsibility at the very least, and our family for the great majority of Homo sapiens. 

What of those who declare they are “just dogs” or “just animals”? As if to say “just human” would be an outrage because we have somehow outclassed the “just” prefix.  This gives us permission to classify some as slightly below or perhaps deeply below “our kind”.  It has a stench much like the Bible interpreters who justify the dismissal of women and gay people as lesser, with the imagined backing of certain passages they opportunistically read literally, when the evidence is piled high against such a simplistic approach.

Here is an anonymous post reacting to the question, “Are humans animals?”  Just for fun. (I have corrected some of his more glaring errors, the silly monkey):

“READ YOUR BIBLE. If you have the nerve to count yourself as a position as low as an animal then just go around and call yourself that. ‘Cause I will not call myself a living beast eating my feces, sniffing things, licking my stuff (I think you might do this if you could – the author), living in the wild, be a pet, and pick up my turd and throw it at someone.” (I know where I’d throw my turd - the author) 

My apologies to other Bible readers who are deeply mortified by this individual.

This seems like an excellent place to talk about the SAE fraternity for just a moment, because I don’t think I can get through the day without weighing in on this (my apologies to the decent frats and sororities who are truly community minded and not raving sexists and racists. Seriously though, the bar is pretty low for you guys). The little ditty the SAE men drunkenly bleated as they rode along on their bus made reference to black people “hanging from trees.”  When we measure the intelligence of humans to prove we are inordinately more clever than dogs, let’s not use a frat boy as the standard for measurement.  Like fraternities, dogs historically ran in packs.  Sometimes they ate each other’s poo to clean up after their young and to protect their sick or dying whose leavings might attract predators, and just to keep the den tidy.  Yet this group has enormous appeal when held up against these “Greek” petri dishes of over-privileged white people, festering in their own stupidity and spreading their shallow diseases to one another under the translucent guise of their organization’s philanthropic activity.  It’s quite a different kind of poo-eating from these highly evolved humans.  Dogs don’t seem to get hung up on the sorts of biases and grudges we do, and often if a dog behaves poorly there is a human behind it.  Just a human.  Maybe it’s time to take a good long look at ourselves before we paint ourselves as worthy of “dominion” over the other beings in our midst.  The hubris is galling.

“Genesis was originally written in Hebrew, and since every translation involves interpretation, we do well to ask about that English word, ‘dominion.’ (Some translations read ‘rule over,’ instead.) In biblical Hebrew, the word indeed supposes a hierarchy -- someone in a position of power exercises this quality over inferiors. So ‘rule over’ or ‘have dominion’ is actually quite accurate. However, its interpretation as the right to exploit and despoil is not.” - Kristin M. Swenson, Ph.D.

And what shall be done with Rebecca Miller and Janice Freeman who would abuse and/or murder well over 100 dogs, tossing their bodies into garbage cans like so much forgotten rubbish? (http://www.nbc12.com/story/28263279/more-than-130-dogs-found-in-choctaw-co-puppy-mill) In the case of these Alabama puppy mill demons, these psychopaths, I say without caveats that they are murderers and should be dealt with as such.

And then there's Natwan Callaway and Bobby Hollinger, who tied a dog intended for
Tampa Police Sgt Rich Mills Rescued this helpless
dog who had been shot and was tied to the railroad
tracks.(Tampa Police Department's photo)
fighting to the railroad track and then shot her several times because she was too kind-natured to engage in their chosen sport. What of these youngsters, just 17 and bloodthirsty, with all the charming indicators that they'll certainly cut a human into tiny pieces as they blossom into glorious adulthood; tiny little red flags poking out of their every filthy little orifice.  The dog survived, rescued by police sgt Rich Mills. Lock them up and toss away the key.

The naysayers will cry, “But where do you draw the line?  If you step on a bug do you go to jail?”  I say those details can work themselves out, but let’s start with the dog killers.  Meanwhile, how about we step on fewer bugs?  How about at the very least we don’t elevate animal abusers and murderers as they continue with their lives, as we do with Michael Vick, who left so much horror and damage and so many dead bodies in his wake as he trotted onto the football field, glorified and wealthy beyond most of our wildest dreams.  Excuse me one moment, I just threw up a little in my mouth.

"Take only memories. Leave only footprints." - Chief Seattle

The above quote asks that we be stewards of the earth; noble custodians over all that we see.  It is an impossible order to fill.  Our presence alone is apocalyptic for many species and aspects of the environment.  We can at least mitigate the damage by using compassion in our approach.  We can do our best to do no harm. Why not start with a two pronged approach, treating our own species with dignity and respect.  Concurrently, as we work to master just behaving decently toward one another, we can begin to view man's very best friend as a viable being with sentience, capable of great emotion, profound loyalty and experiencing pain and pleasure much like we do.

-Kiki Nusbaumer











Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Coprophagia: Eatin' Poo!

You kiss your mama with that?
My sweet girl Molly came running gleefully in from the backyard one day with a shiny wet turd gripped between her teeth.  I like to think she mistook the thing for a Tootsie Roll, but sadly it was just my first exposure to my beloved dog’s new favorite snack food, any and all poop.  Needless to say her toothbrush has been moved to its own container in the medicine cabinet.

Why?!

Fifi is just naturally gross.

The mother dog is hardwired to keep the den clean, historically speaking, so this behavior may be a remnant of those old habits that improved the odds of survival.  A clean den meant predators didn't have a strong scent to follow.  She may wear a pink sweater and tiny little booties in winter, but she’s still a descendant of the gray wolf.

“I learned it from watching you!” Unlike human children, your dog sees you cleaning up and wants to pitch in.  He may not have thumbs, but his piehole will do just fine to help out around the house. 

Your dog may have seen another dog eating poo and thought, yeah, that looks cool.

Puppies try to jam everything in their mouths.  If your puppy is doing it, she will likely find it not-so-yummy and kick the habit. 

How's my breath??
Could be an homage to dominance.  If you have more than one dog, the submissive one may eat the dominant dog’s feces.  This is the canine version of corporate brown-nosing, which is just as gross but does not cause bad breath. 

Sick dogs’ poo is an evolutionary red flag and must be eaten.  This reaches back to the days when predators picked off the weaker members of the pack and is a protective measure.  Yet another example of dogs being INCREDIBLY selfless.  You rarely see people do this.

And finally, sadly, a neglected dog may do this simply for the attention.  My own dog is not neglected but I could see by the glint in her eye and the boundless joy in her movements (so to speak) that she truly relished being chased maniacally around the house with a single poo log dangling from her mouth.  Imagine the attention a bored or lonely pup could get from flaunting his enjoyment of this reviled, recycled delicacy.

Head to the vet.

Just to rule out health problems, if your pup is dining on poo, take him to the vet to make sure he is not lacking nutrients in his diet.  A vitamin B deficiency can cause feces consumption. 

Dogs who are overfed may not be absorbing nutrients from their food and go back for “seconds” in this manner.

Modern canine diets heavy on plant and carbohydrate proteins may be tougher for the dog to digest.  Poo may hold the enzymes needed to help digest this stuff.

Poo eating can also be an indicator that the dog has parasites or even pancreatic problems.


Some Solutions You Can Try

A high protein kibble (well balanced diet).
Succinct discouraging commands if he is caught in the act (the reason he has that poo-eating grin).
Fixed feeding schedule and leash walking to control outcomes (and prevent incomes).
Keep your dog entertained with exercise and play.  Boredom breeds naughty behavior.
Keep your yard scooped of any potential snacks (by that I mean doodie).
Train your dog with the Leave It command.

Consult with your vet about remedies you can purchase to add to food or even spray on dog feces to make it taste bad...something to put on poo so it tastes bad. Are you guys reading this?  This blog is gross.

Shiba Shake – Dog Tips, Care & Training http://shibashake.com/dog/how-to-stop-dog-eating-poop


Thursday, February 19, 2015

A Beagle Named Cash by Brianna Merrill

Blaze and Cash
It’s a cold day outside, and the sunlight shining through the window is welcomed warmth. It’s just before noon and I am only now lying down in my bed, I’m exhausted. It was a long night at the hospital and an even longer and draining past 4 days.  I rotate onto my shoulder so I can see my 10 year old son clearly. He’s lying on a make-shift bed on the floor of my bedroom because he can’t be alone, not right now; we have to watch him all the time. He’s in pain, like usual, and he’s weak but he’s home and that’s where he likes to be, he hates hospitals and Dr’s offices and I don’t blame him, he’s been there way too many times in his life. The events of the past few days begin flooding my mind and I have to look away so he doesn’t see my tears, the knowledge of the high maintenance care my son is going to need from me these next  few months is overwhelming, physically, mentally and emotionally.
The humble beagle is known for its gentle spirit.
Cash's nurturing nature and empathy have healing properties.

Just as I think I may lose control and sob I see Cash, our 9 year old beagle waiting in the doorway. This is the one room in the house he’s not permitted to enter freely and he knows it, but he also has a sixth sense and knows when he’s needed.  I nod my head and wave my hand beckoning him in and he immediately comes to my bedside.  He tilts his head up and lays it against my mattress; he’s not quite tall enough so all that’s visible to me is the tip of his nose. I throw my hand over the side of the bed and rub his head a few times to let him know I’m okay.  As soon as he gets my reassuring pats he turns his attention to my son, he knows this is who really needs him and he also knows this is where I want him to focus his attention.  My son sleepily lifts his arm and Cash positions himself beneath it and then lies down beside him.  My 10 year old begins methodically stroking Cash’s fur and I can see the physical change happen. My son’s shoulders relax, the tightness and scrunching of his face releases and he begins to breathe deeply, he’s able to block out the pain and instead is feeling peaceful and I am grateful. 
Easing the pain.

It’s hard for me to imagine life without Cash’s calming presence in my home. We’ve only had him for 11 months but the way he fits into our family makes it feel like we have been lifelong friends.  I remember I had my doubts when we visited Richmond Animal League almost a year ago. Our neighborhood friend had just adopted a sweet and beautiful beagle from  RAL and it only took a few visits with my kids at the bus stop for them to be smitten. It also reminded me just how sweet natured this particular breed was. Unlike my children I grew up with dogs, usually two sometimes three. They were always adopted or a rescue my parents had helped with so I knew that if we ever got a dog we would adopt, but so far our life just didn’t seem to have room for anything more. My husband and I have five children ages 5 to 11 so to say we are plenty busy is an understatement. My two oldest had been asking for a dog since they could say the word but it was just too overwhelming to think of taking on more responsibility in those early years of raising our family. Even now with them barley reaching an age of genuine responsibility and accountability I kept asking myself if I truly wanted the burden of a family dog. But I could not ignore the nagging feeling that it was time to consider adopting a dog and our interactions with the friendly little beagle down the street only confirmed it.

We went to RAL and upon arrival my only request was that we not be shown any puppies. 
Amy McCRacken and Cricket (From the
RAL Website). Amy is the Executive Director
of RAL and knows firsthand about being
rescued by a rescue dog.
I knew the cuteness factor would cloud the kid’s judgment and who are we kidding, mine as well.  I also requested to first see their beagles. We were shown a few and even took one very anxious hound mix for a short walk. Then we were brought to see one beagle named Johnny Cash. The volunteer opened up his kennel and pulled him out declaring that he was one of her favorites. All I saw was the tag on his door declaring him to be nine years old, positive for heart worm and currently undergoing treatment for pneumonia. On top of that if I were to rank him on the cute scale he was less than a 5 for sure. Not that being cute was a major factor in our decision but when a dog looks as homely as he did at that time all I see is dollar signs in terms of healthcare and I had the list of ailments as evidence. But with some gentle persuasion the volunteer brought him and us out to the yard. It may not have been love at first sight with Cash but it was certainly love at first touch. He was an old and tender soul and he instinctively knew exactly how to interact with my kids. His temperament was amazing and by the time we were done it was hard to say goodbye.

www.ral.org
We went home with plans to think it over and have a family council to determine if we all understood what would be required of everyone. When it came time to decide which dog we wanted to adopt it was a unanimous vote for the homely and medically complicated dog. Johnny Cash had stolen our hearts and felt like the perfect fit which seemed odd given all the issues and what it was going to take to overcome them. I had wanted to avoid excess chaos, didn’t I?  Against any worries I was developing we put in our papers to adopt Mr. Cash, but over the next four weeks he would need to remain at RAL and finish his pneumonia treatment and then begin his heart worm treatment. We were starting our journey down the adoption trail on fairly rocky terrain as there was no guarantee Johhny Cash would survive the treatments due to his age and possible complications from his recent battle with pneumonia. During his heart worm treatment I would visit the shelter as many days as possible just to hold and comfort him and whisper that we would not leave him there much longer. It became torture to visit and hold his frail little body just to put him back in the kennel with only a promise of returning the next day.  But it was during these consecutive one on one visits I made to RAL when I began to see more of what made him so special. Before we ever brought him home I was looking into therapy dog programs and the requirements to certify him. There was a quiet energy he carried and compassion seemed to be his middle name. I knew he could do great things for not only our family but others as well.

Now here we are almost 11 months later and he has far exceeded my earliest expectations.  He has proven himself to be a devoted and tender companion for each person in the family, especially my oldest son who battles an incurable disease. There is little therapy and relief for his unique illness and before Cash came into our lives I often just had to hold my son and tell him things would be okay and the pain would go away, knowing my words were of little help. Now Cash holds him close to his body with matched breathing and helps him forget the pain until it passes. He does the same for some of the elderly we visit in assisted living facilities. He gently places his paws in their laps and raises his nose to theirs and in those moments he brings a temporary relief from the emotional pain and loneliness many of the resident’s experience. Many tears of joy have been shed as we make our scheduled visits always ending with promises to return because of the palpable love and tenderness he brings with him.

This last fall I thought we’d have to break those promises when Cash was bitten by a
A copperhead snake.
copperhead snake. We had been enjoying the last few hours of the day playing with the kids outside when Cash and I retired to the hammock, a favorite spot of ours when the weather permits.  As dusk approached I began mustering the strength to get up and call it a day when Cash raised his head from off my chest and with a growl leaped from the hammock. He has never growled, he doesn’t even bark so I knew something was wrong. As soon as I turned my head and body over to see what caused such an unusual reaction I saw Cash struck in the face by a large copperhead just 2 feet from my own head. The following moments were sheer panic. My husband drove us to the nearest emergency vet while I held him and just cried, terrified he wouldn’t make it as his breathing became more labored and he struggled to get air through his grotesquely swollen snout and throat. By the time we got there only 15 minutes from the time he was bitten his entire body was swollen beyond recognition and he was gasping for breath. I felt so guilty, I knew he was protecting me in that moment he jumped down off the hammock and seeing his swollen body I knew it could have so easily been mine. I whispered again for him to hold on, he had so much more to offer, so much more to do, more people who needed him and most of all we needed him. He had proven to be a fighter once before and I begged him to do it again. Well he didn’t disappoint and pulled through just like we prayed he would. Only three weeks later he was back to doing what he does best, helping people. With him fully recovered we went on a camping trip with friends where he managed to help a young boy overcome his extreme fear of dogs. Our friend who could hardly look at a dog without screaming in fear ended the 2 day trip, walking, feeding, petting and hugging Cash with a vow and a new found excitement  to do it all again next  year.  Cash was his new “best friend”.


Cash, right where he belongs.
They’re asleep now, Cash and my son, and as I look over the two of them I am so grateful not only for our sweet dog’s larger acts of devotion and sacrifice but all of the small ones he manages to accomplish every day.  The laughter he brings when the kids command him to “be cute” and he drops his face to the floor while wagging his butt in the air. Or the squeals of excitement when he finds the kids hiding spot during their unique version of hide and seek which is formatted to include Cash. Some days he’s the exact remedy I need to help get all five kids in the car to go to school. Usually someone has complaints about not wanting to go but as soon as I open the front door Cash rushes out to the car, excited and anxious to go for a ride. Tears and “I don’t want to’s” are immediately forgotten as everyone wants the coveted seat beside Cash. Even in the winter months when it’s cold and he rolls down the car window to stick his head out, we can’t help but laugh through our chattering teeth at him as my five year old exclaims “silly Cash!” It’s when he knows I’m over whelmed or annoyed and instead of leaving me alone or avoiding me he bugs me all the more until I pause and return the affection he is giving me. He puts his face next to mine, looks me directly in the eye and just like that, my crazed pace slows and he reminds me to take it easy and stop and smell the roses, or sometimes stop and smell every single mailbox along our walking route and then my daughters words “silly Cash” echo through my mind. During the day when the house is quiet and the kids are in school he is my shadow and even when he is in mid slumber if I leave the room he immediately wakes and follows without any command or noise from me. Yes it’s the little moments when he truly shines, little moments like now as he cuddles up against my sick boy. It’s a cold day outside but it’s warm here beside Cash, it’s warm here because of him.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

What We Do At Who Rescued Who

Did you rescue?  Were you rescued?  Probably both.

You’ve probably seen the magnet on a car.  Maybe you thought for a moment about just what it was saying, that small slogan with such a big meaning.

Who Rescued Who?® is a re-brand for a company called Imagine This.  It’s a company that has the audacity to imagine a world in which all homeless animals are adopted and euthanasia is a thing of the past.  They went a little further and considered the impact that adoption has on the adopter, or rescuer.  The rescued becoming the rescuer.  They knew right away they had stumbled into the ultimate symbiosis; a mutually beneficial relationship more powerful than the relationship between the humble little shrimp and the goby fish.  The shrimp and the goby live together in a burrow made by the shrimp, but not rent free, no indeed, for the shrimp is nearly blind.  When danger threatens, the little goby touches the shrimp with his tail.  He is essentially the shrimp’s seeing-eye goby.  The goby didn’t ask the shrimp if he could shack up with him.  It just happened.  The shrimp was probably so excited that first time the goby gave him a little tap with his tail when a predator came swimming around.  He had just figured the goby would eat a lot of his food and leave dirty dishes in the sink. You didn’t tell me you’d do that, thought the shrimp.  You rescued me.

But I digress.

Everyone who has adopted an animal from a rescue group or shelter knows the feeling.  You rescued an animal.  You have saved the life of an innocent being and at the same time provided a much-needed service to your community.  But the love you get back is so much greater than you had ever imagined possible.  Your life is altered by the new family member you have brought home.  My own dogs are adopted from Virginia rescue organizations FURS and Angels of Assisi (working with Deaf Dogs Rock).

I am rescued by the experience.  On the surface, no one may have noticed that they rescued me.  They are by no means Lassie.  Lassie would not have eaten my television remote.  But when I open the front door of my home after a day of work, they leap and dance, kissing my face and crying with joy as if I had been out to sea for weeks, months even.  They plunge their faces into my briefcase, certain I work at a beef jerky factory.  Each day is a celebration.  The first greeting in the morning feels like Christmas, and like the sea anemone and the clownfish, when night falls I wrap my tentacles around them as we drift off to sleep. (The clownfish eats the critters that are dangerous to the anemone and in turn the anemone protects the clownfish with its stinging cells in symbiotic bliss.  Don’t ask me the additional benefit reaped by the anemone – you’ll have to Google it).  They may not know if I was in mourning, or stressed, or waiting on test results.  It’s pure, unconditional love they hurl at me, and it is scientifically proven to keep me healthier.  And it’s not meted out in little doses when they feel like it.  They can be asleep and they are still keeping my stress levels down, my heart healthier, my state of mind more peaceful.  Who really rescued who?

Imagine This Company has been manufacturing Who Rescued Who?®branded items for years. They have helped with the fundraising efforts of thousands of rescue groups around the country. In addition to Who Rescued Who® merchandise, an amazing collection of car decals and magnets, jewelry, clothing, beautiful pet urns and more are available for purchase at www.imaginethiscompany.com

And then there’s the TV show.

Reality TV That Matters
Who Rescued Who?® is reality television that matters.  It showcases the profound impact a rescued animal has on the individual or family who adopted him. Visit ahttp://www.rescuedwho.org/video.php to see a sample video to get the gist.  We will bring you moving stories from across the country about the flipside of animal adoption; the young man bullied at school who finds a friend in formerly homeless cat; the elderly man who lost his wife and can’t face the remainder of his life alone, until he adopts a hound whose companionship gives him the strength to go on.  Some stories will be small and some will be large.  We want to hear them and then we want to share them with the world.





Share your story.  Your story can make things happen.  We may publish it on our social media sites, share it on our website or maybe even put it on TV (we are working on that, do you know a guy?).  Have you rescued?  Have you been rescued?