Two Puplets & a FoodLady

So, I (apparently) give the impression that I have done everything out there in regards to animal care, but that is not true in the slightest. I am usually willing to try pretty much anything – but the majority of my experience is with the super sick or extra disgusting cases.

Not orphans.

Orphaned baby animals are THE WORST. Here I am, an ape, trying to put formula into teeny tiny mouths of another species, but don’t let them aspirate any or you end up with pneumonia (which can kill them). So, there was a woman who brought in two orphaned puppies. They were cold (which, btw, will ALSO kill them), so in the traditional Family of FoodLady way, I stuffed em in my shirt:

And then I spent 4 hours trying to get them accepted by a mama dog who still had some milk. Sadly, she was *not* a fan. But she endured it as long as I was providing a lap for them all.

Regardless, it was not a success and I pawned those poor puppies off on to a poor volunteer couple just for the night.

The next day I went to pick them up and desperately asked, are there any other lactating mommy dogs?! There was, but the owner who had surrendered her (and her sadly unhealthy puppies who didn’t make it) had called and asked to have her back; but hadn’t shown to pick her back up in 3 days. I figured, even if the owner does show up, that’s still some mama-dog time and her boobs looked painfully ready to explode anyway. The puppies got filled up with milk in minutes, but mama-dog cleaned them and looked visibly relieved and happy. They were all in a snuggle for sleeping and I felt relieved and happy for them. I kept checking back in on them and they all really seemed to be bonding.

Pictures? Oh, of course I didn’t remember to take any photos during the hours I spent in a kennel, but here are the wee little nuggets yesterday. They are visibly fatter (YAY!).

So, fingers crossed that they continue doing well.

Sadly, every damn cage and kennel is full at the animal shelter. There is NO room. Please spay and neuter your pets!

UPDATE: DAMMIT! The jerk who surrendered his beautiful mama dog and then called and said he wanted her, but then didn’t pick her up – picked her up. *cries*

So now I have the two puplets. Help!

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FoodLady’s First Daydream

I’m not really a dreamer.

I never have been. I remember my mother often talking about what she would do if she won the lottery and it was always a difficult thing for me to try to do. I have always let the universe guide (drag?) me wherever it did and I just make the best of it.

I think I just had my first ever day dream and it went something like, “holy crap that sounds amazing! I think I would really like this to happen! Yeeeeeessss!”

Now, please note – I am aware that it would be almost impossible for this to become reality. (Look at me, already killing off my very first “someday!”) But how amazing would it be to have a dog-training facility and dog park like this one?

https://dogsforlifevb.org/our-story/

Besides the training facilty, I would want to put in a self dog wash station, charge $15 or whatever to get the use of shampoo, conditioner, towels, and ergonomic wash the dog sink/tub (and rubber apron! LOL).

The dog park would be critical, I would want a water feature for the dogs to play in, a sand pit for them to dig in, LOTS of shade and seating. We could have a picnic-type area and fire pit area which could be rented out for dog-friendly private parties. Also, a doggie playground with some *very* basic agility equipment.

Inside the training facility there should be a dog training book lending library and reading nook – because that sounds amazing to me.

A comfortable barn-like dog boarding facility and an area to raise puppies to train for balance-assist and blood sugar alert service dog training for those in need, especially veterans and the elderly.

There it is, my dream. It would be a metric crap ton of work. But hey, maybe someday, right?

POOL!

Cleaned and filled up Dobby’s pool. He dove in as I was filling it. Just so happy and thrilled to be in his pool; splashing around and rolling around.

Meanwhile, inside the home: Three of FoodLady’s pack and a fancy foster shiver and quake while pretending they are invisible because they are CERTAIN it is a new and terrifying bath-system.

To Love a Rescuer

[A found poem, and I have been unable to find who wrote it.]

To Love a Rescuer

To love a rescuer you must love all of her. You must love the scars covering her body from panicked and hurt animals she was trying to help. You must love her fractured heart, that has been broken so many times she no longer even takes the time to mend the pieces.

To love a rescuer, you must embrace her grit and determination, and know that although she fights a war she can never win, she can and does win a few battles. You must love the tears she will shed over those she lost. You must give her comfort that she refuses to accept, as she blames herself for things she could have never foreseen.

To love a rescuer you must acknowledge the rage she feels towards the world at times, and know that anger is driven by a love of life too few have. You must give her space and room to cry and mourn for the losses that others have caused out of carelessness or cruelty.

To love a rescuer you must understand her passion to heal and save is a calling, not a choice. You must accept that to save animals is part of her soul and without that she could never be happy.

To love a rescuer you must be patient. You must accept her work comes first. She will forgo sleep, forgo food, forgo her life for animals in need. She will work tirelessly until her body and mind fail her completely and she cannot go on.

To Love a rescuer, you must be strong. You must not be threatened by her focus and love of animals. You must accept that the things you love about her, the strength and convictions and loyalty are also what drives her sense of duty to animals in need; you cannot have one without the other.

To love a rescuer you must never ask her to choose, because she will, and it will not be you.

Thank you to whomever wrote this.💜

Fancy!

So, on Friday, May 17th I stopped by the animal shelter to drop off a case of cat food, and long story short, this is a foster dog Sandy (who I inexplicably call “Fancy” and yes, I do sing the Reba song to her daily!).

She was *very* starved and spent the first couple weeks resting and gaining weight at the animal shelter. Then, once she had energy she started to get bored (and stressed, which was leading towards additional health problems) and they asked if I could foster for a short time.
She had never been in a house before, but we are doing well with potty training (amazingly well actually!), she has “sit” down, walks on a leash well, and gets super duper excited about wet food (and we are talking vibratingly levitatingly levels of excited; she has to sit before she gets her spoonful – but I can’t swear she isn’t hovering (in a pretty little sit) about 3 inches off the floor). She also has an unfortunate affinity (and by affinity, I mean a true and deep yearning sort of love) for dirty laundry and shoes which she doesn’t damage but does immediately take outdoors. I have spent many an awkward time laughingly searching for missing wardrobe pieces in the front yard. She also attempts and spectacularly fails to take bowls of kibble outside quite often with hilarious kibble-splosions, and just looks so dang happy and proud to have all of her riches spread around her!

Little Miss Fancy is all heart, love, and trepidatious excited joy. She came from hellish abuse and neglect and while there is a not-small part of me that would love to find the person who starved her to the point of almost death and hurt them for the pain and suffering they caused her, a slightly larger part of me understands that hurting someone else won’t increase that person’s empathy towards other living creatures and *if* that person has the ability to empathize, the only thing that could possibly help is education about animal care. For now, this little girl is getting healthy and learning all of the things that will make her a wonderful and loving companion.

Please keep this little Fancy dancer in mind if you are ready to adopt a loving and special dog into your life.

Here is her before picture taken around April 19, 2018.

My yesterday….

Woke up – owwww. Sunburned badly. Own fault, met a friend at the beach to catch up.

Then the computer update from hell, I kept TRYING to make it work. It kept crashing my computer. My rage was large, so packed up my work and brought it with me.

Drove to mid-island to do a dual doggie pickup, (1 to spay & vacc. + 1 to receive 3rd vaccine) (aside: business plan? Take people who are too busy’s animals to vet?) a pretty female named Kahlua (pibble) and male named Jameson (Dane mix puppy).

Kahlua was happy to come with me, Jameson was very passive-resistant “don’t kidnap me!” and HATES leashes.

So, I had their human’s key to his (crazy heavy) rolling gate. I also had a big ass garbage bag full of boxes I had meant to stop and dispose of ON MY WAY which I completely forgot to actually do. This is a TJ Jeep Wrangler, they are NOT made for storage. So, since I was going to be back with Jameson in a couple of hours I put the big bag of trash inside his gate and took the key with me.

Get to shelter clinic and Ms. Kahlua was taken back to get ready for surgery and since Mr. Jameson was “just here for a shot” we waited for a few to see the vet. Vet says, “why isn’t he neutered?!” I said, “his human said he was, and his vet records ALSO say neutered!” I had actually asked his human the night before if he was SURE he was neutered because there were small testicles there! Guess what, he wasn’t neutered. So, throw him on the schedule and they take him back.

At that point I settle in and make myself more angry by attempting to continue to fix my computer.

But then a box of happy healthy fostered puppies needed weighing so I Scrooge McDucked into the box and let them snurfle snuffle my head before weighing them. They were so dang cute.

Back to my computer, the shelter’s WiFi keeps dropping because the internet on this island has been having “issues”. And what made me mad is their internet provider told them it keeps dropping because, “they have their printers and computers set up to wirelessly talk to each other…” I had to explain to them that is not what has caused the dropping and that the nice man LIED to them. *sigh* Be meticulous with your words people.

So then, the vet comes out with a post-surgical (floppy) cat, looked around, saw me, and hands me the cat and said, “keep her alive.” (The vet is kind of an awesome smartass) So when I raised my eyebrow and cocked my head a bit (FoodLady for “uh, say what now? More details needed.”) She said, “it’s a specialty breed of cat and her human’s other cat had passed away from a horrible disease recently and I don’t want anything bad to happen to this cat.” So then I was counting breaths while still updating my damn computer. Y’all, this *was* the softest cat I have ever felt in my life and it had cute little stubby ears. So, lots of gentle pets and breathing rate counts for her – lots of gentle cursing and restarting for my computer. Once she fully woke up with a decided, “where da fuq AM I?! And who da fuq ARE you?! And why you hate your computer so much?!” expression on her face, she got to go into a kitty condo to wait for her humans. And then there were feral kittens that needed ticks picked off, fleas combed out, and ears cleaned before coming out of anaesthesia (they were treated for fleas and ticks, but there were A LOT). One little orange girl (I know, all the orange kitties have been girls there lately!? Weird.) woke up PISSED and fiesty, so I had to put the little 1lb terror of claws and teeth in her cage because holy crap! I find working with a 150lb raging rottweiler much easier than trying to wrangle a pissed off 1lb kitten.

Then back to my computer – guess what, still updating. I breathe through the need to throw it across the room.

So, the two dogs I brought in are ready so I settle up the bill and bring my jeep up to the front and load up my stuff. Then walk back in to get the babies. Slight problem, Kahlua is bleeding. Fuuuuuuck.

So, even though her gums did not look anemic and it was most probably a superficial (just under the skin) bleeder, to be safe – back into surgery we go. I saw we, because at this point I had wormed my way into surgery because these dogs are my responsibilities and I wanted to know what the hell was going on. Of course, my phone is in the jeep with all my stuff so I didn’t have a chance to inform their human or my husband where the hell I was. Husband, being a resourceful person, called a friend at the animal shelter who brought her phone to me and I told him what was going on. Before the bleeder, I had messaged the dogs’ human that if he wanted to come by to pick them up (forgetting I still had his gate key, btw) he could. Because my Ziesa’s bleeding after surgery turned out to be Tick Fever, I made them test Kahlua for Tick Fever. Her CBC was borderline but the specific tick fever test was negative. Phew.

When Kahlua’s second surgery was over (it was a superficial bleed and now cauterized) the clinic had been officially closed for almost two hours. Two vet techs were staying until Kahlua woke up (we decided it was better for her to stay there overnight) so I went out to get my phone which informed me I had missed A LOT and it was at 3% battery. I went back in and grabbed Jameson and put him in the jeep. I then went back in to ask about Kahlua’s meds when my husband calls to tell me that the dogs’ human is outside at the clinic because, 1. His Dogs; and 2. He was locked out of his house (I suck). So we explain to the poor dude what had happened, he got to cuddle Kahlua a bit while she woke up. I gave him the bill, meds, Jameson (I didn’t wanna go with the lady! I didn’t! She stoleded me!) and his key and apologized for the insanity of the day.

Only on the way home did I remember I had left a giant bag of trash inside this guy’s yard!

So, this can be looked at a couple different ways. Either I picked up his dogs for some much needed veterinary care, and when things went sideways I stayed with them to provide as much comfort, support, and assistance as I could OR, I kidnapped his dogs and left a bag of trash in their place, had them both drugged and cut open (Kahlua twice!), locked him out of his house, and disappeared.

I swear, I was aiming for the first way!

When I got home, I was given a sniffing like I have never been given before! “Yep, yep! There were kitties here! And here! Oooh, this one smells like a fancy kitty from the Ukraine! And puppies! And doggies! And holy crap, more kitties over here too! Where the hell did FoodLady go?!”

And now for today’s adventure to begin!

Love, FoodLady. ♡♡♡

Sam vs. Electric Fence

Y’all, this is SamSam; he is an asshole.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves people, loves children and cats/kittens, he loves puppies and small dogs and will tolerate new and strange adult dogs very well, he will fetch tennis balls until the end of time and he has been through multiple obedience classes, and he is generally a loveable clown – so much so he even sleeps funny.

But he is an ASSHOLE.

There is a saying that is *very* true living on a tropical island: “If you have one, you have none. If you have two, you have one.”

In other words, if you don’t have a backup, ya got nothing. We did not (we do now!) have a backup electric fence energizer and while it was down Mr. SamSam the acrobatic asshole figured out he could jump onto a tree stump, leap up and over the electric fence coil onto a concrete pillar, and then jump down to enjoy freedom to pee on other trees and look for some pretty ladies at the clerb. (Yes, he’s neutered; no, it hasn’t stopped him from “getting stuck”. He’s all, “hey ladies, all the fun and no puppies!!” *face-palm*)

We reenergized last night (wooo!) and husband and I were high-fiving and fist-bumping in celebration on the porch and here comes SamSam just trotting over to see why we were so happy. He came by way of the stump, pillar, road.

Dude. Some days are just hilariously challenging.

Update: The acrobatic asshole has left the yard seven times today……oh! wait, that’s eight. How do I know? Because the other dogs go batcrap crazy and bark at him every time he does his triple back flip barrel roll handstand maneuver.

Watch “Dogs Tested to See Whether They’d Defend Owner During Home Invasion” on YouTube

So, this video didn’t surprise me in the slightest.

Why?

Because to paraphrase, the strength of the pack is the dog; and the strength of the dog is the pack.

In other words, when you have a single dog, *you* are their pack. If you are already defeated, the pack is defeated and the dog is gonna leave. You can train them to be guard dogs and they will respond differently, but without specialty and ongoing training – a single dog gonna leave a scary situation.

Now, with two dogs (regardless of size), it’s usually a different story because they have backup. With three dogs the response will escalate.

Now, if someone breaks in when no one is home, it is incredibly rare that a single dog would engage in any way. Even two dogs would rarely respond aggressively, because dogs don’t really care about stuff; they care about pack.

Just some FoodLady thoughts for a Monday.

Back down to the final four! Wooo!

FoodLady Chronicles – Dobby is Rested; Ziesa Now Sad edition:

Things have been busy lately in the Lady’s House of Food – you can tell cause of the no “typey typey”. I’m fixin’ to have a bit of a lull (yay!) so let’s see if we can get back to chronicling my mundane life with dogs.

To sum up, my beloved Dobby is an asshole. I mean, he is kinda awesome and a great dog to do training work with new dogs, but he is the highest energy dog I have. He also “woo’s more than I would like, has no work ethic (“you threw the ball, it bounced over there, I looked, it was hard so I gave up.”), and tends to chew the collars off of Ziesa. However, we had a Bella puppy for over a week and her energy levels are still cranked up to high energy + puppy! She wore him OUT. It was awesome. Then we had a Snoopy until he flew to his new home yesterday. The shelter told me Snoopy was very full of energy and that it wouldn’t be possible to tire him out. Meanwhile, Dobby was behind me saying, “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” and those two just ran and ran and played and played and then drank, slept, ate and repeated. Mr. Snoopy flew to his new home yesterday and Dobby slept for about 20 hours and this morning he woke up all bright-eyed and ready to rock. Poor Ziesa, she is back to being his only play buddy – she really enjoyed the vacation while it lasted.

Snoopy at the airport on his way to meet his new people!
Ziesa contemplating murder of a Dobby.
Dobby….being a Dobby.

Canine Pickle

Alrighty, since y’all in here are smart n stuff, I’m going to tell you a story and then I will graciously accept any advice/encouragement/kick in the ass I receive.
I’m in a bit of a dog pickle. (I know, shocker, right?)

  1. So, airport road dog (aka Snoopy) is being adopted by the lady that saw me do a bit of a rage cry and growl at the animal shelter that I was, “fucking doing the best I can and I cannot have another fucking dog and if you are seriously trying to shame me (dude didn’t know me) by saying this dog will be put down then bring me the fucking pink euthanisia drug and I will inject it in him myself you heartless asshole”. I have never seen a group of people move so fast to separate me from the guy (who knows me now!) ☺ Anywhoodle, the dog is being flown to the lady at the end of April. He needs a foster home until then and I agreed to pick him up tomorrow. He needs to learn about being in a damn house. And that was the plan. Until…
  2. My one dog training client is a lineman that looks to be about 12 years old – his aunt died last night. He is flying home on the first flight out tomorrow. I scheduled to get the dog’s last set of shots and spayed tomorrow at the shelter. I told him the dog, Bella, can stay with me for his 7 to 10 day trip and he is going to pay me (woo!) She has to learn that she doesn’t own everything and that other dogs are awesome. In other words, she’s kind of a like a spoiled snowflake who never heard the word no and was home schooled so she doesn’t know how to talk to the other kids so says random things like, “I put jelly beans in my poop!” or just screams in response to any question.
  3. But then Snoopy loses out.
  4. But what, am I gonna try to wrangle a total of 6 dogs?!
  5. And ugh, that other dog Knuckles that really has potential is freaking back up for adoption. He’s just about 100lbs….but so much potential! *sad*

Anyway, tomorrow should be a busy and interesting day!

Love, FoodLady