Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Trouble with a capital “T”
So I have been volunteering some time lately. I am out of money, apparently, and although I am short on time, I have more of that than I do of money, so that’s what you get if you’re a worthy charity in my area. The worthy charity is a rescue foundation that brought 56 dogs and 12 cats back from the hurricane-ravaged area of Louisiana.
I have been spending time with the dogs in the kennel where they are being (temporarily) housed. These dogs are wonderful. I am quite sure the cats are wonderful, too, and saw them briefly before they were all fostered out, all except for one feral cat who will not come out of his cage and is freaked-out all to hell. He was not at all pleased about being caged in the first place, but likes the idea of a well-lit room full of people even less, so he just sits in his cage, hunkering down. Poor guy. There is a woman who is volunteering exclusively with him, spending inordinate amounts of time just sitting quietly with him, talking to him, being near him in an unthreatening way. Hopefully, he will become comfortable enough with the idea of being near a person so he can be adopted out to a single-animal home, with someone equally non-threatening.
The animals who were brought back from Louisiana were “last-chance” animals, meaning that they had no identification and no way of being reunited with their families, or were surrendered pets, presumably given up willingly by people who realized they had no homes left any more and nowhere to keep a pet or even live for a while, maybe a long while at that. Had they been left where they were, they would likely have been destroyed, or kept in a kennel for a very, very long time, which is no life for a dog or a cat.
The dogs I am “working” with are fantastic animals. They are mostly young dogs, although there are a few older ones, and they are mostly medium-sized (I had expected to see a lot more large dogs, but there you go). They are also mostly short-haired, too, which makes sense seeing as how they came from a warmer climate. They are all cute. They are all loving. They are all friendly and really, really nice.
When I say “working”, I mean doing small, menial tasks, such as cleaning some poop out of their kennels, or taking the dogs (individually) to the exercise yard. But mostly, what I am doing is sitting with the dogs, and visiting with them in their kennels. The first week I started, I was instructed to just sit and visit with each of the dogs and pet them, talk to them, tell them they’re good dogs. Which is exactly what I did. I gave them hugs and petted them and snuggled with them, and tried to clean their fur, and tried to play with their toys. A lot of them weren’t that interested in playing, but they loved the snuggling.
There is a sort of a quarantine policy in place at the kennel, whereby you have to disinfect your hands after each time you touch one dog before you can handle another, and since they found out some of the small puppies had parvo, the volunteers and workers now all wear plastic garbage bags over their clothing and there are disinfection trays you have to step in before going from one section of the place to any other.
On the first weekend I was there, I was taking turns sitting with the dogs in their kennels, and came across one small black dog named Penny. Penny was sick. She was shaking, and coughing, and was generally quite unhappy. She was in a kennel with a small poodle cross who had no interest in her or much in me, either, and he seemed pretty content just to sleep on his blankets. Penny, though, needed some attention. I sat down in her kennel, and she crawled onto my lap, and I just held her there, talking to her and petting her. Before I knew it, an hour had passed. I kept looking at my watch, and thinking I should be spending some time with the other dogs, and that it wasn’t fair Penny was taking up everyone’s time, but any time I even thought about moving, my heart broke for Penny. After about an hour and a half, I told her I would be right back, and went to find the director in charge of things there.
I told her Penny was sick. I told her that I didn’t want to see Penny left in the kennel any more, sick and cold on the hard concrete floor, and that I could get her a good foster home right away. She came and looked at Penny with me, and agreed. I went back in with Penny for another half hour or so, and promised her I would get her into a nice warm home by tomorrow at the latest.
I called my mother. I explained the situation. I asked her if it would be alright for her to keep Penny “temporarily”, just until she gets adopted, because it would be so much better for Penny to be in a nice warm home with heat and a bed of her own and people to talk to her all the time. My mother said she’d have to talk to The Grumpaw about it, and his response was “NO DOGS!!”. And of course, we ignored him.
I took Penny there to their house the very next day. I couldn’t wait to get her to a happy place. It’s not that the kennels are bad, really, but they aren’t home situations. And the Louisiana dogs are sick, they have a sort of pneumonia, as it turns out.
Penny was very happy to get into a home situation, where she has a yard and a house and people. She gets two walks per day, and she can go outside whenever she wants, and my mother spends tons of time with her, talking to and petting her. Penny is smaller, about 30 lbs, and sort of a black lab/terrier cross, with bright, bright eyes and a gentle, quiet disposition. She is a wonderful little dog, and I have already fallen in love with her.
So, apparently, have my parents and my sister, Lala.
The first night Penny was there, The Grumpaw told my mother that it would be “better” if Penny spent the night in their room. Penny was restless the first night, and spent most of the night trying to clean herself off, trying to get rid of the smell of the kennel and the other dogs and the disinfectants. They had to put her out of their room in the early morning hours so they could sleep. My mother gave her a warm bath and blow-dried her the next morning. And instead of having her bed in their room, Penny was given her own designated chair in the living room (the leather recliner!) with her own blanket on it.
Over the next few days, Penny’s health improved a little, but it got worse towards the end of the week. Finally, on Sunday evening, my mother took her in to the vet and he prescribed Penny some anti-biotics. We’re expecting to see some improvement in the next day.
By last Thursday, though, I had been over to take some digital pictures of Penny to put up on the rescue group’s website, so her profile could be seen by potential adopters. I called my parents to tell them that, and each reacted negatively. I had thought it would have taken about a week for them to fall in love with her, but apparently it only took five days. They told me not to send the pictures in, that Laura wanted to adopt her, or that they would adopt her instead. So Penny has a potential home, and all we’re waiting for is the form to go through the rescue foundation’s processes, and possibly a home visit.
I was at the kennels yesterday, volunteering. The dogs vary in age and size, and they brought back two little black lab type puppies, names Amos and Abby. Amos is a smart one. He figured out right away how to nudge the latch on his kennel open, and managed to escape a couple of times before they put a clip on the latch to keep it shut. Yesterday, I was out in the yard with PJ, a large golden retriever sort of dog, trying to get him to walk a bit (he preferred to cling to my legs instead) when I heard a huge racket from inside the kennel, dogs going crazy. Seconds later, the door to the yard exploded open, and these two little black shapes launched themselves at us, all licking and bouncing and wiggling and jumping everywhere. Amos & Abby had escaped.
I sort of stood there, stunned for a second, until I realized this had disaster written all over it. I had no idea how PJ would react to the puppies (who are about 8 months old). Thank goodness he wasn’t dog-reactive or anything, and he just sat there, sedately, while they climbed all over him. I ran back inside to get some leashes for Amos & Abby, and took them back to their kennel. I couldn’t find their clip, so I figured perhaps some other volunteer didn’t know and didn’t put it back on when they were put away last time. I looked around and found a shower-curtain ring to use to clip the latch shut, and went back outside to spend some time with PJ. Seconds later, though, Amos & Abby were back out.
I put them back again, and found their clip in their kennel and put it on the door. And went back outside with PJ. And less than a minute later, they were back out again.
I put PJ away this time, and then caught Amos & Abby, who were getting into everything in the kennel – the blankets, the food, the toys – and the other dogs were going crazy to see them out and running free. I replaced the clip again with the clip-part outside their kennel, hoping to deter them from getting free again, and then disinfected myself and went to walk Fideaux, a little reddish-coloured puppy. Oh yeah. Sure. Just as I got him out of his kennel, there was a final escape by the pair of trouble-makers. And as they shot by me, Fideaux also managed to get free, so I had to chase down three dogs and kennel each of them.
Finally, I put Amos & Abby into their kennel and rigged the clip up as best I could so they couldn’t unhitch it again, and ran out to the front to see if there was anything stronger we could use to keep them captive. Apparently, that style of clip is really the best they have, and if a dog can figure that out, they’re not sure what to do with him/her. We ended up clipping the latch again and tying the door shut with a leash, which Amos & Abby were chewing on when I left. Smart dogs, but pure mischief.
Volunteering with the animals is a very good thing. I can see that it makes a difference to their lives, and feel so much better when I have a little time to spend with them. I think it’s worthwhile, anyway, so that makes me feel better… I know these Louisiana dogs are in a tough situation, but so are all abandoned or surrendered dogs, and if you have an opportunity in your area to volunteer with animals, do it.
I have been spending time with the dogs in the kennel where they are being (temporarily) housed. These dogs are wonderful. I am quite sure the cats are wonderful, too, and saw them briefly before they were all fostered out, all except for one feral cat who will not come out of his cage and is freaked-out all to hell. He was not at all pleased about being caged in the first place, but likes the idea of a well-lit room full of people even less, so he just sits in his cage, hunkering down. Poor guy. There is a woman who is volunteering exclusively with him, spending inordinate amounts of time just sitting quietly with him, talking to him, being near him in an unthreatening way. Hopefully, he will become comfortable enough with the idea of being near a person so he can be adopted out to a single-animal home, with someone equally non-threatening.
The animals who were brought back from Louisiana were “last-chance” animals, meaning that they had no identification and no way of being reunited with their families, or were surrendered pets, presumably given up willingly by people who realized they had no homes left any more and nowhere to keep a pet or even live for a while, maybe a long while at that. Had they been left where they were, they would likely have been destroyed, or kept in a kennel for a very, very long time, which is no life for a dog or a cat.
The dogs I am “working” with are fantastic animals. They are mostly young dogs, although there are a few older ones, and they are mostly medium-sized (I had expected to see a lot more large dogs, but there you go). They are also mostly short-haired, too, which makes sense seeing as how they came from a warmer climate. They are all cute. They are all loving. They are all friendly and really, really nice.
When I say “working”, I mean doing small, menial tasks, such as cleaning some poop out of their kennels, or taking the dogs (individually) to the exercise yard. But mostly, what I am doing is sitting with the dogs, and visiting with them in their kennels. The first week I started, I was instructed to just sit and visit with each of the dogs and pet them, talk to them, tell them they’re good dogs. Which is exactly what I did. I gave them hugs and petted them and snuggled with them, and tried to clean their fur, and tried to play with their toys. A lot of them weren’t that interested in playing, but they loved the snuggling.
There is a sort of a quarantine policy in place at the kennel, whereby you have to disinfect your hands after each time you touch one dog before you can handle another, and since they found out some of the small puppies had parvo, the volunteers and workers now all wear plastic garbage bags over their clothing and there are disinfection trays you have to step in before going from one section of the place to any other.
On the first weekend I was there, I was taking turns sitting with the dogs in their kennels, and came across one small black dog named Penny. Penny was sick. She was shaking, and coughing, and was generally quite unhappy. She was in a kennel with a small poodle cross who had no interest in her or much in me, either, and he seemed pretty content just to sleep on his blankets. Penny, though, needed some attention. I sat down in her kennel, and she crawled onto my lap, and I just held her there, talking to her and petting her. Before I knew it, an hour had passed. I kept looking at my watch, and thinking I should be spending some time with the other dogs, and that it wasn’t fair Penny was taking up everyone’s time, but any time I even thought about moving, my heart broke for Penny. After about an hour and a half, I told her I would be right back, and went to find the director in charge of things there.
I told her Penny was sick. I told her that I didn’t want to see Penny left in the kennel any more, sick and cold on the hard concrete floor, and that I could get her a good foster home right away. She came and looked at Penny with me, and agreed. I went back in with Penny for another half hour or so, and promised her I would get her into a nice warm home by tomorrow at the latest.
I called my mother. I explained the situation. I asked her if it would be alright for her to keep Penny “temporarily”, just until she gets adopted, because it would be so much better for Penny to be in a nice warm home with heat and a bed of her own and people to talk to her all the time. My mother said she’d have to talk to The Grumpaw about it, and his response was “NO DOGS!!”. And of course, we ignored him.
I took Penny there to their house the very next day. I couldn’t wait to get her to a happy place. It’s not that the kennels are bad, really, but they aren’t home situations. And the Louisiana dogs are sick, they have a sort of pneumonia, as it turns out.
Penny was very happy to get into a home situation, where she has a yard and a house and people. She gets two walks per day, and she can go outside whenever she wants, and my mother spends tons of time with her, talking to and petting her. Penny is smaller, about 30 lbs, and sort of a black lab/terrier cross, with bright, bright eyes and a gentle, quiet disposition. She is a wonderful little dog, and I have already fallen in love with her.
So, apparently, have my parents and my sister, Lala.
The first night Penny was there, The Grumpaw told my mother that it would be “better” if Penny spent the night in their room. Penny was restless the first night, and spent most of the night trying to clean herself off, trying to get rid of the smell of the kennel and the other dogs and the disinfectants. They had to put her out of their room in the early morning hours so they could sleep. My mother gave her a warm bath and blow-dried her the next morning. And instead of having her bed in their room, Penny was given her own designated chair in the living room (the leather recliner!) with her own blanket on it.
Over the next few days, Penny’s health improved a little, but it got worse towards the end of the week. Finally, on Sunday evening, my mother took her in to the vet and he prescribed Penny some anti-biotics. We’re expecting to see some improvement in the next day.
By last Thursday, though, I had been over to take some digital pictures of Penny to put up on the rescue group’s website, so her profile could be seen by potential adopters. I called my parents to tell them that, and each reacted negatively. I had thought it would have taken about a week for them to fall in love with her, but apparently it only took five days. They told me not to send the pictures in, that Laura wanted to adopt her, or that they would adopt her instead. So Penny has a potential home, and all we’re waiting for is the form to go through the rescue foundation’s processes, and possibly a home visit.
I was at the kennels yesterday, volunteering. The dogs vary in age and size, and they brought back two little black lab type puppies, names Amos and Abby. Amos is a smart one. He figured out right away how to nudge the latch on his kennel open, and managed to escape a couple of times before they put a clip on the latch to keep it shut. Yesterday, I was out in the yard with PJ, a large golden retriever sort of dog, trying to get him to walk a bit (he preferred to cling to my legs instead) when I heard a huge racket from inside the kennel, dogs going crazy. Seconds later, the door to the yard exploded open, and these two little black shapes launched themselves at us, all licking and bouncing and wiggling and jumping everywhere. Amos & Abby had escaped.
I sort of stood there, stunned for a second, until I realized this had disaster written all over it. I had no idea how PJ would react to the puppies (who are about 8 months old). Thank goodness he wasn’t dog-reactive or anything, and he just sat there, sedately, while they climbed all over him. I ran back inside to get some leashes for Amos & Abby, and took them back to their kennel. I couldn’t find their clip, so I figured perhaps some other volunteer didn’t know and didn’t put it back on when they were put away last time. I looked around and found a shower-curtain ring to use to clip the latch shut, and went back outside to spend some time with PJ. Seconds later, though, Amos & Abby were back out.
I put them back again, and found their clip in their kennel and put it on the door. And went back outside with PJ. And less than a minute later, they were back out again.
I put PJ away this time, and then caught Amos & Abby, who were getting into everything in the kennel – the blankets, the food, the toys – and the other dogs were going crazy to see them out and running free. I replaced the clip again with the clip-part outside their kennel, hoping to deter them from getting free again, and then disinfected myself and went to walk Fideaux, a little reddish-coloured puppy. Oh yeah. Sure. Just as I got him out of his kennel, there was a final escape by the pair of trouble-makers. And as they shot by me, Fideaux also managed to get free, so I had to chase down three dogs and kennel each of them.
Finally, I put Amos & Abby into their kennel and rigged the clip up as best I could so they couldn’t unhitch it again, and ran out to the front to see if there was anything stronger we could use to keep them captive. Apparently, that style of clip is really the best they have, and if a dog can figure that out, they’re not sure what to do with him/her. We ended up clipping the latch again and tying the door shut with a leash, which Amos & Abby were chewing on when I left. Smart dogs, but pure mischief.
Volunteering with the animals is a very good thing. I can see that it makes a difference to their lives, and feel so much better when I have a little time to spend with them. I think it’s worthwhile, anyway, so that makes me feel better… I know these Louisiana dogs are in a tough situation, but so are all abandoned or surrendered dogs, and if you have an opportunity in your area to volunteer with animals, do it.
