Lucky 7?

This is Lilly.  She is the 5th of the hoarder dogs I pulled from the shelter.  She came on Friday afternoon.  They had given her a bath yesterday so she looks and smells better than the rest.  One of her ears is tipped, probably an injury when she was young.  She has white tips on her feet that make me question her genetic make up, but the face is all shepherd and she's a pretty girl.  Lilly is 5 years old.  She's quiet so far, which I appreciate.  She's bunked in the kennel next to Sparky, which has been vacant all winter. 

She's the 7th new dog here this week and we've reach maximum capacity, both physically and psychologically.  It's been a little stressful this week, both work and dogs, so I'm taking the weekend off from dog stuff, as much as possible anyway. 

The little black dog, left, is Dickens.  The houndy guy on the right is Ryland, or Rye.  They are Fluvanna SPCA fosters, the first two of the lucky 7 that I pulled this week to make room for the incoming shepherds at the shelter.  When I was back at the SPCA on Friday I had to ask Dickens' name because I had taken him without knowing much about him except that he was good with other dogs.  Ry is a sweet boy, a nice mix of several things, I'm sure.  I'm a sucker for the hound face and floppy ears and this one doesn't do the hound hoot so I really like him.  I'm just fostering them and they will go back to the shelter when there is room, unless I find them a home before then. They are nice guys, sharing a kennel with no problems except a little growling at feeding time. 

I still need to do baths for the new shepherds and then start with the vet appointments next week.  I think that Lilly and maybe Maggie Mae are spayed at least. 

Happiness is...



A nap in the sun on a pretty day.
















Trooper and Flirt

 



A friend to play with.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Clay with Flirt





A hug when you aren't feeling so great.



Thanks for all the donated food.

 

A full food bin. 




Romeo, finishing his third dose of wormer with some canned food.

 

Good food and medicine.




Irene, cozy in her igloo.

 


A place to be safe and secure.

















Thanks to all of you who have sent food, money, other supplies, and words of encouragement.  Thanks to all who have listened to my rants and shared my outrage.  As cynical and disillusioned as I often am about mankind, there are good people out there, pushing, prodding, and pulling the rest of the herd in the general direction of progress. 


Ryland, one of the non-shepherd fosters I pulled from the Fluvanna shelter to make room. 
Sweet and adorable, as only a hound can be.

I appreciate everything that everyone has done and offered to do.  But at this point I only have five of the shepherds (I brought home one more this afternoon), and two non-shepherd fosters, plus what I already had at home.  The Fluvanna County shelter is dealing with the bulk of the problem.  I would suggest making a donation to the Fluvanna County SPCA that runs the shelter, Fluvanna SPCA, 5239 Union Mills Road, Troy, VA 22974.  If you want to make an in-kind donation, I think they can use shampoos, brushes, cleaning supplies. I took a bag of candy over there this afternoon, for energy and morale.

Happy Birthday Barth

A really nice surprise in this morning's email was a note from Barth's owner telling me that today is his 5th birthday in his new home.  This dog was named Harlan when I had him, and I still have this picture of him on the wall next to my desk because I think he is the best looking German Shepherd I have ever seen.  I'm a sucker for any dog with a big head and he's got a great one.  He also has the most beautiful red and black fur I've ever seen on a shepherd. 

Our Bremo wasn't too fond of him or we would probably have adopted him.  It's probably best that we adopted him out however. He certainly had plenty of prospects and he landed in a really great home.

I'm often rather skeptical about young, single, straight guys who want to adopt a dog.  Let's face it, they aren't always using their big head to think with and few of them could be referred to as "stable."  This young man was an exception and I'm proud to say that I recognized that when I met him.  I've made many mistakes in all phases of the rescue and adoption process, but this was not one of them.

Not only has he provided a wonderful home for Harlan, now Barth, he has also gotten involved with a rescue group where he now lives. The dog sharing the bed with Barth is one of his fosters, adopted just last week.  Apparently Barth rather misses this one. Unfortunately, there is always another ready to take an open space in a foster home.  I'm sure that Barth is a great one to help a new foster adjust and settle in.  He's been through it himself and can re-assure a new dog that he's in a good place and everything will be ok, regardless of what may have happened in the dog's past.

Many of my own dogs do the same.  I think of them as a very important part of the rescue and foster process.  They speak the language, help the new dog fall in line with the routine of the new household, and provide that reassurance that so many fosters desperately need.

Barth is certainly a success story.  I don't remember his past and he may not either.  All that matters is that he's got a great home now.  I don't know if dogs have the level of cognition necessary to worry about the future.  That's our job.  While none of us can guarantee anyone a great future, he's in a home with a good and caring owner. That's my goal for all of them that pass our way.   

The whorder

The white trash bitch who owned these dogs has now appeared on television crying and saying how she loves her dogs and doesn't want people saying that she abused them.  That is complete bullshit.  Those dogs did not get to be in the condition they were in a matter of days.  This has been going on for years.  She is a fat fuck liar. 

She also said she couldn't imagine her life going on without her dogs.  I hope then she will do the right thing and eat a bullet, putting herself out of our misery. 

Too mean?  No, it's not.  It's what she deserves. 

(Thanks to MJ for the new word.)

My guys still have some diarrhea and have now had their second day of Panacure.  Irene rarely comes out of her igloo and I'm not forcing it at this point.  I put her food dish in right next to her and she cleans it up. 

The hoarder shepherds



Big Boy



Big Boy, a young male, very friendly and outgoing. 
Don't be fooled by the picture, he does have all his legs.





The last blog post already has over 300 hits, so I know a lot of folks are looking for more news and info.  I don't have a lot, but I do have two more dogs as of this morning.  I've pulled 4 of the surrendered adults now.  There were 3 puppies that someone else has taken.  There are two more surrendered adults still at the shelter, but I'm waiting to see what they are like.  One is said to be 8 years old and that's going to be tough adoption.  Another is the extremely shy and fearful one that I'm reluctant to take just yet.  And of course there are the others that were seized and will have to be held pending a court decision on their future.  I'm not sure, but I think there are a dozen seized dogs there as well.

 

Irene is a very pretty young female.
She really likes the igloo.



Irene finishing a dose of panacure mixed with canned dog food.

 "There" is the Fluvanna County shelter.  I can't say enough good things about the director and staff.  They really mobilized, got many of their current dogs out to foster homes (I have two), and were are prepared as it is possible to be when the dogs began arriving.  They were there until after midnight last night and were back early this morning. They are on top of the paperwork and the medical stuff.  And even importantly, they care.  I saw one staff member get down and hug Romeo today as we were leaving.  That is something I won't do yet because of how these dogs smell.  They will be starting to bathe them all later today.  Again, that is something I'm not yet ready to do.  As much as the dogs need it, I want to get them to trust me a bit before I take a cold water hose to them.







Maggie Mae, about 7 years old.
She is dealing with an ear infection.



Maggie Mae is a very sweet girl.







What would probably help them the most, and me too for that matter, is to get our "other" dogs adopted or fostered, to make more room.  Along those lines, I've had email from the young man who took home Shadow yesterday evening.  He's fitting in well, having a great time playing ball, and loves to ride in his Jeep (I've always wanted a Jeep so now I'm jealous of the dog).  This is the life Shadow deserves to have.  





Romeo is a lover.  About a year old.



Romeo sitting down for a long drink. 
Apparently water was in short supply where they came from.



I'm calling these dogs, collectively, the hoarder shepherds.  Their names are Big Boy, Irene, Maggie Mae, and Romeo.  I've put a few comments in the captions of the photos.  I don't have any idea who lived with who in the hell hole they came from.  I've done male/female pairings, assuming that is usually safest.  They didn't really seem to know each other before coming here but they are getting along fine.  It may be that they are so glad to be out of there and that they don't care about anything else.

Romeo.  I'd love to tell you that he's a young boy who had just had a great time playing in the mud, but that's shit, not mud.

Rescue at its smelliest

I got a "heads up" call on Monday evening from the director of a local shelter.  She was alerting me to a possible influx of German Shepherds, perhaps upwards of two dozen, sometime soon.  I knew that Shadow was set to move on Tuesday evening, but there is no math that fits 24 German Shepherds into my kennels. 

Another call Wednesday informed me that the worst case scenario seemed to be happening.  They were coming, all at once.  Some were being surrendered voluntarily, the others were being seized.  They were coming from horrific conditions and criminal charges were being filed against the owner. 

I went by the shelter late in the afternoon. Only two of the shepherds were there at that point.  One was terrified and cowering in the far end of a long, narrow run.  The other was friendlier.  I pulled two non-shepherds to foster, just to help them make space. I got the two of them home, introduced to each other, and installed in one kennel.  Then I put in another hour's work, and then delivered Shadow up to Culpeper.  I stopped by the shelter again on my way home, about 9:00 p.m.  The ACOs were still bringing in dogs, a few at a time.  A vet was there giving vaccinations as they came in.  The stench coming from the building was overwhelming, even from outside.  Inside, it was enough to make me sick. 

The dogs were well fed, no one was starving, but they were literally covered in shit.  They had been living in small pens that were nothing but deep layered dog shit--walking on it, laying on it, eating off it.  It was caked on their fur and permeated every inch of their bodies.  This was not a case of someone getting a bit behind on cleaning up.  This was beyond the pale.  The owner is a hoarder, a breeder, and one sick bitch.

I brought home two, a male and female, and put them in a clean kennel full of clean straw, with clean water to drink.  Not fancy accommodations by any means, but it must seem like luxury compared to how they were living just a few hours ago.  I'll go back tomorrow for more.

Rendezvous in Culpeper

Shadow came with a crate, which had been sitting in my driveway since the day he arrived a couple weeks ago.  This evening I loaded it and the dog into the van and we drove north on Rt 15 to my rendezvous point just outside of Culpeper.  It's one hour flat from my door to that parking lot and about the same from many points in northern Virginia.  I have met a lot of folks there to pass off dogs moving in one direction or the other.  Tonight it was Shadow's rendezvous with his prospective new owner and new life.  

He's a great dog, easy to love, and very much a lab.  Night time in a parking lot is not an ideal time to meet new people and start a new life, but with this guy I wasn't so concerned about that.  It was time for him to come in for the evening and he will go to a new home for his indoor time and then to bed in his familiar crate.  He was happy to hop into the car and go on his way.

He's not a difficult dog--no high strung, anxiety-ridden shepherd-- and he loves his crate and the comfort of a routine.  He also loves attention and I think he will be getting a lot of that in his new home.