Friday, December 30, 2011

Marley is now advertising for his new home!

Wonderful Welsh Terrier Marley is now listed on the WTCares site. If ever you wanted to add a WT to your home, Marley is just the guy to make you fall in love with the breed. Here is a photo of him yesterday, curled up in a chair in my bedroom as I got ready for work (we won't talk about how he jumped in the bathtub and then left Welsh-sized prints all over the white bath rug!).

Check out Marley and our other wonderful Welsh Terriers waiting for their forever homes at Here's wishing all rescues find happiness in the new year.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Sharing thoughts from a book I really liked

A few weeks ago, I happened upon a book at the bookstore that caught my eye. Of course! There were dogs on the cover!

The book is titled "Follow My Lead: What Training My Dogs Taught Me About Life, Love, and Happiness," and is written by California author Carol Quinn. It has a bright green cover with photos of her dogs. I would post it here, but for those pesky copyright laws ... :) I have included a photo of a Ridgeback though, courtesy of Creative Commons.   

Last week I began sharing selected quotes from the book that really spoke to me. I found I had/have many experiences in common with the author and some similar background (public relations careers, dogs, divorce), so it was natural I would relate to her writing. My plan is to continue to Tweet excerpts until I get through the book. My hope is to expand on those excerpts here to illustrate more how they relate to my life and my life with animals.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

New year, new posts?

I hope so. I have learned so much from my four-legged friends in the past year. Now I need to learn to write about what I have learned. I think it will help me better incorporate the lessons into my life. Fingers crossed on both counts!

We are entering the new year with another male Welsh foster-pup in the house. A stray we named (Jacob) Marley in honor of the Christmas season, he is an absolute joy. About three years old and quite long-legged, he has amazing house manners. I just wish Blue wasn't so cranky about having another dog in the house. And, of course, since Carson isn't spayed, I do feel the need to keep the two terriers apart unless closely supervised, even though Marley was neutered before he came home with me. The photo (left) is of Marley with one of his beloved balls, relaxing in the dining room last week.

Christmas was low-key and very nice at our house. I'll end this brief post with a photo of Carson posing in Brody's (Hollis Haven's Brodrick, RIP 2010) reindeer ears. As you can see, she wasn't too thrilled. But there was a cookie-treat at the end of this photo shoot, so all was forgiven. Here's to a Happy New Year for all and many good things in 2012!

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Painful Lessons

I euthanized Sully yesterday. I held him as life left him. It wasn't easy; he did NOT want to go. He tried to nail the vet as he was given the sedative, proving me right in insisting on a soft muzzle before we began. I hated being right, but it reinforced the decision I'd been second-guessing all day long.

Sully was 22 months old, an owner-surrender to the Oklahoma City shelter in September. I knew then he'd learned to be in charge in his household, a situation made more challenging by a traumatic injury when he was nine months old. A perfect houseguest for two weeks, Sully offered a glimmer of the future when he "went off on" my son one evening at home. It was a surprise and I honestly discounted much of his description of the experience. My mistake. But I was working with a TTouch practitioner and I have a lot of experience with behavior issues. I was pretty darned confident I could make a difference. Too much so, as it turned out.

Bits and pieces gave a clearer picture through the months. Sensitivity in his hindquarters, even more so in his groin area. Resource guarding. Wanting to be in charge. Inability to decompress once revved up. Management issues to be sure, but improvements were obvious. I realized I couldn't adopt Sully out but, as my daughter said, "Let's just keep him, Mom. We love him and he loves us. He's good here." And he was.

Then came Sunday. A good day, with much playing and stretching muscles after the snow. Sully had supper, went outside, came back inside and settled in for some personal time with my daughter and me in the living room. She asked Sully to get off the sofa. And then it all came apart.

"Sully, off." That was it. Next was a call for help. Sully was attacking her. He was beyond reason. I eventually re-directed him off her and onto me, telling her to go to her room and close the door. She did, but damage had been done - multiple bites on her stomach, back and arms. Three bite holes in her shirt. Serious emotional trauma. Sully nailed me, too, on my forearms and wrists, until I was able to grab his scruff and put him in a sit. I then held him for nearly 10 minutes before he stopped snarling, tension and breathing eased, and his eyes finally re-focused, losing that dull look. As I slowly released him, he shook himself all over, coming back into himself. As in the past, he was loving and cuddly, tail wagging like crazy and front feet dancing.

It was the point of no return. Not only could I not release Sully into anyone else's home (which wouldn't happen; he definitely was our dog), I could no longer manage - or even accurately identify - his triggers in advance. And so began our last hours.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Cabin Fever

It's day four of out Mother Nature-imposed hibernation. I'm sure a shrink would have a field day observing the way each of us deals with our enforced captivity. The teens play instruments - snare pads pounding at all hours, strumming guitars, plaintive voices.

The dogs revert to early behaviors: accidents in crates, hyperactivity, you name it. The snow drifts in the back yard measure 18"+, more than a foot on the deck outside the back door. On the first day of snow, visibility was next-to-zero, winds were howling. I tended to open the door and toss the little ones out. Sorry. Sounds callous. I hate cold weather. Oddly, the Welshies don't. After they got the hang of it, they had to be dragged inside. Covered with little balls of snow and ice, they shiver not only with the cold, but with sheer excitement. They adore running and rolling, but feel the need to poop and pee right outside the back door! Big Boy Blue doesn't share the WT enthusiasm. With his long coat, he rushes to "take care of business" and hurry back inside. Perhaps he remembers his time as a stray, making his way in the winter cold.

The dogs would benefit if I was willing to get bundled up and head outside to play. But I hate the cold even more than Blue, so that isn't likely to happen. We practice basic obedience a few times each day - 20 Cheerios' worth of sits at a time for each dogs. It makes each of us focus on something besides white nothingness, at least for a little while.