SAINTS

Day one:  foster dog (Isaac) and my dog (Charley) growl and bark and gnash teeth at one another.  Foster dog sleeps in cozy stall in barn, Charley sleeps in her own bed.

 Day two:  Isaac quits growling and backs away when Charley growls.  Charley goes into sulk mode and backs away when Isaac comes near me.

Day three:  Charley and Isaac play musical spaces – each vying to be close to me, each stealing the best space in the house when the other gets up for whatever reason.  Dogs rotate between Isaac’s bed, Charley’s bed, sheepskin on office floor, sheepskin on bedroom floor, and spot in front of fireplace in living toom.  Neither will stay in a room where the other is.

Day four:  I sit at my computer with both dogs asleep on the floor by my chair, just inches apart -  but each stubbornly turned away from the other.  Every few moments I hear a low grumble – first from Charley, then from Isaac, then from Charley, then from Isaac, just to make sure I know how much they resent sharing this space. 

By day five they should be best buddies.

Phoebe was at the old site so everything here is new to her. She knows a few of the long term dogs, but the majority of them are strangers. And Carl certainly wasn’t here when she was either. She took one look at him and ran, and Carl who had never seen anything move as fast as the red whirling wonder was in hot pursuit. I am not sure who was faster, but Phoebe bee-lined into the front seat of the van (I was unloading hay) and stayed there til Carl went to bed. I opened the front door and tried to coax her out but she said “no thank you, I will wait here”. I left her there and started heading across the field with the dogs when all of a sudden she came flying past, I guess she changed her mind. I quickly backtracked to the van to shut the door, but by the time I got there, she was sitting in the front seat again. On the third try, I finally got the door shut so we could move on. Phoebe made Tyra mad when she tried to steal the 8 foot branch that Tyra was hauling around and whacking everybody with, and Cole for some reason decided Andy was being bad and chased him back into the yard, Andy was upset and sat by the gate and wouldn’t join us out for the run again. I told Cole that wasn’t very nice but he didn’t care because Spritely and Gideon’s hoof shavings were littered in the field and he had just found them. Phebers found a hole in the fence wire and slipped out of the field, she tried to come back as soon as I called her but apparently she can only fit thru one particular four inch square and not the thousands of others so I had to walk all the way back up to the gate to let her back in. I put all the dogs back into the yard but Phoebe had disappeared, she was sitting next to the van door because I guess she has appointed herself the van’s parking attendent and knew we could not leave it parked in the field. So, Frodo and Phoebe hopped in and drove back up to the house with me. Phebes thinks she is pretty darn special and can do whatever she darn well pleases. She is probably right. Prima Donna numero uno has landed.

Gosh I forgot how sweet she is when she is being good…”there was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. and when she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid!” As soon as we hit Mission, she knew she was close to home. She was so frantic that Mo was sure she had to pee so we stopped and let her out. She didn’t have to pee, I think she just knew where she was and I can’t quite figure that one out. She shared our timmy’s sandwiches, and had a whole 10 pack of timbits to herself (except I stole one). I decided to try her out with the little dogs and cats, altho, Phebers just slips out any door I go thru anyway. I think she will end up, wherever, whenever she wants  as long as it isn’t with Ed. Anyway, so far, so good, she is sleeping behind me on the computer chair. I am glad she is back, I forgot how much I once loved her…now I remember why. Welcome home Phoebe, you can be the red whirling wonder if you have to, and if you don’t, that is ok too.

Both Saul and Phil did well with their surgeries. Saul had a hip/spinal xray and I will find out the results of those when I pick him up. He also had a biopsy done, one of those double dew claws looks maligant so we will have to wait for those reults. Phil is coming home with some more antibiotics for his crappy skin but other than that looks good. Both of them were really good and easy to work with. I am a bit worried about bringing home those two huge, cumbersome and not altogether great on their feet  beasts while they are still dopey from their sedations. This ought to be fun.

The ferrier was here this morning to trim up the horses feet, Steve said Gideon was full of beans, prancing around and avoiding them like the plague, big change from the sweet old and cooperative plug who found his way to our gates.

Howard and Gayle came to install some rain barrels for us to help with the water shortage, they are really nice people and they took Copper with them for a run to the hardware store, he loves that kind of thing and isn’t the least bit shy in going off woith strangers. Howard promised not to drop him out the window on the highway, so that is nice of them too!

A nice family came from the island to look for a new, old dog…Mom kinda fell for Ozzie, but Nicole can breathe a sigh of relief because Ozzie is still here.

Phoebe, the red whirling wonder is being returned today, apparently she has been biting her family, they knew she had major issues when they adopted her, but i think they thought they might go away…Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe…what are we going to do with you????? I am not sure i can handle you AND Ed…someone might have to go onto tranquilizers, maybe it should be me!!!

There is a senior cocker spaniel named Poppy, on our wait list and the family are getting desperate, so if anyone knows of a home for him, please ask them to give me a call. His elderly caregivers can no longer care for him. I think he might have some issues, but frankly today i am too tired to remember for sure.

Well, the house is done, the rabbits are done, the yards are scooped and i am heading on out to the barn before it is time to go get the boys and meet up with Phoebe. I am sure tonight will be a riot.

Scotty with his motorized haircut

Tonight my household is a little larger. I have joined the ranks of the Saints’ fosters and welcomed Isaac, a shepherd cross, into my home. We are still sizing each other up (or at least Isaac and Charley and Allie – one of my dogs and my cat – are sizing each other up) but my considered opinion is that we will do just fine.

I told Carol the other day that I was ready to take on a foster and she didn’t waste any time taking me up on the offer. Today she and Leila checked out this old guy, then sent me out to see how I felt about him. He took my liver treat gently, and allowed me to put a leash round his neck to take him out to the pound yard for some one-on-one time. I sat on an old soccer ball while he limped around the yard marking everything in sight (groan, says I, another unneutered male!), and then suddenly – to my surprise – came and ever so briefly laid his head on my lap, just the way Francis used to do. I knew at that moment he would be coming home with me. We went for a little walk – I’m not sure who was walking whom – I just kinda followed wherever he wanted to go but he was a gentle leader. On the walk he did his business, which suggests I just may be fortunate enough to have a housebroken and continent foster – that remains to be seen. Then I opened the back door of my vehicle and without hesitation (though with some difficulty due to his very weak hind end) he clambered onto the floor behind the passenger seat. And there he sat. He has the same big happy grin and smiling eyes that I saw in Francis, and the same incredibly soft fur around his neck.

I talked to him a little on the drive home, and he looked at me every so often but mostly ignored me. He was nameless at this point, so I tried out a few names I happen to like but with no response. Suddenly, as clearly as if he had said the name out loud, I heard “Isaac” – not a name I ever considered for a dog. I said it aloud, and Isaac’s nose came through the space between the seats and poked my arm, his ears came up, and I could almost hear him shout “YES!”. So his name is Isaac.

He was an excellent passenger. When I made a brief stop at a friend’s to pick up my laundry (my well is dry as usual), he clambered onto the back seat from the floor. Every so often he changed position, or stuck his head between the front seats, or looked out the back window, but mostly his shining eyes just looked alert and curious.

When we reached my place, he explored (and marked) every inch of my large fenced yard. My dog Charley (spayed female border collie cross) allowed him to check her out until he got a little too familiar and then she growled – Isaac showed no response. When the tables were turned, and Charley tried to check Isaac out, there were some momentary altercations with Isaac airsnapping and growling but as soon as I called Charley away Isaac settled down.

Isaac likes to lie in the dirt (oh no….another one who drags dust into the house…) under the trees near a fence, and seems relaxed and content and very tired. He has trouble with kibble but loved the Natural Balance canned duck and potato dogfood he was offered for dinner.

With Charley in the house, I sat on the lawn and Isaac came over and head butted me a couple of times before beating a hasty, almost embarrassed retreat. I’m pretty sure he is deaf as he shows no reaction to the neighbour dogs barking loudly at the fence, the motorcycles tearing past on the road, or my whistle or call from across the yard. He does notice movement somewhat, and moved toward me when I motioned with my hands. I have a feeling this dog won’t take long to start enjoying human contact.

I can’t decide where to put him tonight – he will either sleep in the mud room or in the barn until I have had a chance to assess him with my cat who is currently watching him, eyes as big as saucers, from the loft window. This weekend I prepared the stable in the barn for Martin, the abandoned alpaca, so it now has a gate and is a large, secure area with soft wood chips for bedding. Martin is not yet at the point where he will come to the barn, so he won’t mind I’m sure.

And that was the other fascinating event this evening. Usually Martin will sound the alpaca alarm when a new dog (or person) enters my property. Isaac was lying near the gate where I feed Martin when Martin came for dinner. Martin was not the least perturbed, ate his food from my hand as usual, and Isaac just looked at him as if alpacas were an everyday part of his world. Martin on one side of the gate, Isaac on the other…..as if they’d been together all their lives. The only one who was a little perturbed was Charley, who usually holds the coveted position of guarder of the gate! She just watched from a few feet away to make sure Isaac wasn’t going to cause problems for her dear friend Martin.

Tomorrow will bring some challenges – where to put Isaac while I go out – a farm dog, probably not used to tie downs, houses, or being enclosed. He needs a health assessment – his back end is terribly weak and his “waist” is very very thin although his head and chest are broad. His teeth look poor (which may explain the kibble problem), and he needs to be neutered. There is a lot in store for this boy, but I have a feeling he’s going to be quite a sweetheart. I just may fail at Fostering 101.

And here he is:

 

And making himself right at home:

Beautiful boy!

Sheila and I were discussing the SAINTS dogs and which one we thought would suit the home environment of a potential foster home.  We were discussing Moses and Daisy when Sheila said something to the effect of “I heard that Daisy can give what for to the other dogs when she needs to – you know “grrr”.  I responded with “well as much as the dogs need to learn to live together like Francis did, they still have to live with each other.  What happens when all those people have to live together in “America’s Next Top Model” – you know “grrr”.  Well this got us thinking that SAINTS could have a “The Next SAINTS Top Dog” Contest.  We could put all of the dogs faces on a page and have people vote to eliminate a dogs (eg.  Well Jas should go cause she doesn’t know how to share her person – you have to learn to share if your going to get anywhere in this business -  just an example Carol not picking on Jas cause it’s a dog eat dog world after all and Jaz understands that).  We could have a Next SAINTS Top Cat, Next SAINTS Top Bunny, Next SAINTS Top Farm Animal and start all over next season.  We have to put these animals on TV.

is a challenge. Last night I chose wrong. I was too tired to round up, circumvent, and protect from falling or being stepped on of all the little guys, so I left them sound asleep in the cat room. As my bedroom was for once now dog free, I decided to invite Phil in for a sleep over. Big mistake, Firstly, he couldn’t jump up on the bed so he stood and slobbered on my arm and barked in my face. I was too tired and sore to lift him so I got up, shoved everything out of the way, hauled the little carpet’ed steps over that Pam donated and taught him how to walk up them. He stood at the edge of the bed, peering down at the floor. I decided that if he was going to accidently have an accident during the night, I would prefer that the possible said accident occur on the floor and not on my bed. I got up again, and taught him to walk back down the steps. Finally, I was ready for sleep. But Phil wasn’t, he slobbered in my ear, his loose and slippery wet, lips were snuffling around my neck… in desperation, I dived under the pillow. Since I was no longer using it, Phil thought to lay on it, which meant I couldn’t breathe. I came out from under the pillow and hid under the quilt. Phil was wondering if i was shy so he dug me out to play. I finally turned my back and ignored him. He proceeded to pant, shaking the bed like an earthquake, and then started giving himself a wash with all the accompanying wet and gross sounding side effects. I gritted my teeth and continued to ignore him. When he was finally finished, he dried his face and head by rubbing it up and down the quilt along my back, with each pass of his cement block head, I was getting pushed closer and closer to the edge of the bed. I did finally manage to sleep, on and off despite his various activities. This morning when the alarm went off, he was sound asleep. I know damn well that the next time I have an opportunity to go to bed, I will not be choosing Phil to join me. Unfortunately Phil now knows I have a bed, and I have steps leading up to my bed, and he is going to want to sleep there again too. Poor choices have the ability to follow you miserably for a long, long time. I hope Phil gets over it quick!

A year ago I wouldn’t have dared to touch Boo unless I absolutely had to. Angry cats scare me, Boo scared me more than most. I think she bit me to the bone 3 or 4 time as I tried to change her bedding or slide in  fresh food, It all depended on who was faster, her or me.  That little declawed witch, sat in her carrier without a door, whacking at me every time I had to go near her. She was like this giant, nasty, icky spider, just waiting to nail me if the opportunity arose. She still whacks and tries to bite me if I try to comb out her snarly, drool mucked up coat. But now she bites me to knock it off, not because she hates me. And she never bites to the bone anymore either, she doesn’t even break the skin, just a quick and painless warning to tell me to buzz off quickly. Since her surgery (when I made the vets shave her down while she was under), she isn’t mad at me at all. Her mouth is all cleaned up, I am not sure how long it will last, but it is good for now. So now she torments me by sitting in front of the computer screen while I am trying to type. I lift her over onto my lap and she steps back up, I lift her onto the floor, and she jumps back to where she wants to be. I tell her to buzz off and she says “No.” She happens to like blocking my view.

I wouldn’t say that now Boo is exactly a nice cat, she is strong, independant and not afraid to say “No.”  We have yet to share a truly warm and fuzzy moment, and the word “sucky” just isn’t in her vocabulary. But we have a respectful relationship, and I think that now we are friends. I am not afraid of her anymore, and she no longer hates me. I can scratch her chin and kiss her head and I know she likes it. Her very favorite thing of all is Frsikies canned food, which unfortunately rarely gets donated to homeless cats. I think it was the Friskies that helped Boo see some value in being trapped here. I think it helps alot of unhappy cats that are stuck somewhere they don’t want to be.

If anyone really wants to make a difference to a homeless cat, and they can’t take one home…donate a case of Friskies to a local animal shelter, there are alot of angry cats who might get less mad if they got something yummy to eat when they are feeling blue. I think it must be a cat comfort food.

There are 2 more senior dogs in the pounds…one is an old bassett with health issues (eye/ears?), I just got the phone message but haven’t talked to the staff yet as i am on 12 hour shifts this weekend and they are closed when i leave and closed when I get home again. Also there is an old, blind and crippled shepx at a different pound that needs some help too….too many old ones, not enough places for them to go. I find it all so very sad. But we are too full. No more can come here til either some of ours find homes or fosters or sadly, until some of them pass away. I don’t think any animal deserves to die homeless. But for the ones who have survived for time untold, for the ones who lay facing a barren and lonely end to a barren and lonely life; these ones, I think should feel some light of compassion and caring before they pass. If they don’t, all they will remember is a lifetime of nothing. How can we let that be their ending? Maybe that was their beginning, and maybe it followed them through out their lives and right up to their end, but never should it follow them to their very last breath. It hurts me, it hurts us all.