My Fire Hydrant

Today is a special day! Bloggers across the interwebz are honoring Petfinder.com on the anniversary of its 15th year in pet adoptions!

As you may have read, I’ve devoted the month of March to bringing attention to Small Paws Rescue. (Also, fund raising for Small Paws–but more about that later.) Small Paws is devoted to rescuing orphaned  Bichons, dogs who look like Bichons, and even dogs who have had a passing acquaintanceship with a Bichon. Most of their budget goes to paying vet bills. The dogs they take in stay in foster homes until the right family is found for them. So their “adoption center” is Petfinder!

Small Paws is a courageous group of 800 volunteers and 6,000 supporting global members. Over the past 12 years they’ve helped over 8,000 dogs find forever homes. Small Paws Rescue embraces the philosophy of  “no-kill”–nearly all their donations go to pay vet bills.

I’ve asked the members of Small Paws to send me their own stories and photos of their dogs, so that I can share them here on my blog. Today, I’m telling my own Small Paws story. And it’s costing me $20. More on that later.

I don't feel so good.

Robin Pressnall–who is the very heart and soul of Small Paws–sends out a newsletter on a regular basis to the Small Paws membership. That’s where I first saw Tyler. It was this photo, from his shelter intake record. I could tell that he was  not well–can you see it? Robin told us that Tyler had been found on a street in Phoenix with another puppy. That both puppies were starving and that both puppies had parvo virus. Did we want to get them well? Did we want to save these two puppies?

They were on death row within hours of being turned in to the shelter, because that was the shelter’s policy with parvo dogs. But the shelter knew about Small Paws, and someone telephoned the Small Paws Team Leader for Arizona–who turned out to be Tyler’s Guardian Angel. He got both puppies to a veterinary clinic, and Small Paws paid for their hospitalization.

Tyler’s photo haunted me.

On the way to his new home, a potty break in a family bathroom at the Airport in Atlanta

I wanted a puppy. I was just a few months past losing Bailey (my first Bichon), and still working through my grief, but I had bravely put myself on the Small Paws puppy list. At Small Paws, puppies are reserved first for people who are grieving. About a month after Tyler was rescued, I got an email asking me, did I want to adopt a puppy? I was a little hesitant. Was I ready? Then I found out it was the little parvo pup that had already been living rent-free in my head. It was karma! And the fact that I was getting ready to head out west on a business trip making it easy to stop for a night in Phoenix to pick Tyler up from his foster mom (God bless you, Mikele!) added to the surreal feeling that this was meant to be.

Ready for St. Patrick's Day!

Tyler was a skinny scrap of a pup. He was very underweight and his hair was cut very short to make it easier for the dogtors to deal with his illness. But I didn’t mind how he looked. From the first moment, he was so sweet and loving and I marveled that a creature who had received such a terrible start in life–abandoned, starved, sick–could still have the capacity to love. I get teary-eyed when I think of how he cuddled up to me that very first day, and trusted me to take care of him. I won’t betray that trust.

Tyler has found his furever home with me.

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So why did telling my Small Paws story cost me $20? I have pledged to donate $5 for every story and photo that I publish from the members of Small Paws this month. Adding in today’s post, I owe Small Paws a total $145. And the month is only half over.

So here’s my pitch: You’ll see the First Giving donation widget on the right side of the page, or you can click this little photo icon just to the right of this paragraph. I’m not asking you to donate hundreds of dollars, just a couple of bucks. Small Paws is an incredible organization, and every last cent donated is squeezed to the point of dusty dryness to get the best juicy value. Please, make a donation to help this group help dogs.

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Read more…

Tyler and I will graduate from our first clicker class on Saturday. And, let’s be honest here: it’s not Tyler who needs the training.

He’s so stinkin’ cute I have allowed him to get away with pretty much anything he wants to do. And make no mistake, he has me well trained to do his wishes.

I’ve been thinking that we haven’t been doing so well in class–my fault because I’m not spending enough time with him outside of the class room. We’ve been pretty good about a training session first thing in the morning, but the rest of the day is iffy at best.

Tyler did not take the time to put on his coat on the afternoon he took off out the front door.

A couple of days ago, Tyler managed to slip out the front door as I was trying to get in with some packages. Suddenly it was a game of  “catch the puppy” on a ginormous playing field and Tyler wanted to use all the available space. He took off like a deer, a bunny rabbit racing down the street to the corner. My heart in my throat (I’ve read that before in trashy novels and never fully appreciated the sentiment until now), I took off after him.  He struck a playbow at the corner of the yard next to ours and by the time I was within 10 feet of him he had already taken off through the snow. Within seconds, he had navigated the circumference of my neighbor’s house–and he was obviously having a really good time. He playbowed in front of me, mocking me and my inability to grab him. The moment I started to flex, he took off again up the street to the next house. Where lives, thankfully, a Cairn Terrier named Max whose front yard was decorated with his foot prints, markings, and occasional piles of poop. Tyler was immediately intrigued by all the doggie scents. His attention became scattered. He was no longer focused on me. I stealthily approached him as he sniffed, and was able to snag him like rat stinker he is. He was incredibly pleased with himself. I was sick with the “might have beens.”

In that moment, I vowed that if we accomplished nothing else in clicker class we WOULD accomplish sit/stay.

So yesterday, I was working at my desk and I could hear him scrunching on something he wasn’t supposed to have. I looked at him. He got “that look” on his face and took off to the other room. I followed. I looked at him and said “SIT!” with the hand move I’ve been doing while we practice.

He  sat. HE SAT!!!!!

And for one very brief moment he and I were tuned in to each other, a fantastic partnership of training buddies successfully doing what we were supposed to on a plane of consciousness above the common place. Then he got this “oh sh*t what am I doing?!” look in his eye. He didn’t move, but the high-level mind-to-mind partnership of a moment ago was shattered. He allowed me to pull the bits of plastic out of his mouth, and then he ran off to his toys embarrassed that he had cooperated with me to such an extent as to actually sit the moment I ordered it.

We graduate from class on Saturday. I’ve already signed up for the next class.

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Tyler got a little shirt for Christmas. Here are some photos of him modeling it. Is this a really cute dog, or what!?

Look how cute he is in his new shirt!

I can hardly stand it--he's just SO CUTE!!!

Look at that face! This is why we're starting clicker training on Saturday--he's so cute I can't control him!

CUTE! CUTE! CUTE!!!!!!

I just wanted to mention that I’m interviewed on the Grouchy Puppy blog today! Wow!

I got a new camera for Christmas this year, and I’m trying to learn how to use it.

(It would help if I read the instructions, but for some reason I seem to think I can figure this out without them. I suspect I will be forced very soon to stick my nose in the booklet–it’s just that it’s soooooooo looooonnnnngggggg!)

We got snowed on yesterday and Tyler seems to have taken the snowfall in stride–”just another day sniffing around for stuff to eat that he shouldn’t.”

Notice all the snow around his muzzle.

The usual posture: PLAYBOW!!!

The great fluffy hunter in search of leaves and mulch to chew on.

"I just KNOW there's a tasty, moldy leaf under all this white stuff! If I can just push my nose down far enough through it..."

As I post these photos, I can hear a rustling out in the living room. Guess who is back up on top of the coffee table…

But mom! I was just sniffing around!

It’s hard to say “Bad dog!” when I’m rolling on the floor laughing!

OK, I need to have a small fit of gushing. Please excuse me.

Over the past few days, Tyler has started growling while we play. This has not happened before. It is the cutest, most endearing little growl I think I’ve ever heard! I am totally charmed by his little growl. I find that I’m going out of my way to create situations where he might growl. It’s so cute I can hardly stand it!! It makes me laugh and want to kiss him–he’s just so darn cute! I LOVE it when he growls!!!

Thank you. I’m done gushing. (But you should hear him! Wait! Maybe I can record his growling and post it as a pod cast..,.)

It is official. I’ve gone ’round the bend.

Tyler has been having some loose/soft stool issues for the past 3 weeks. No other symptoms–his appetite is good; he’s as playful as ever. And it’s not everyday that his stool is overly soft. Just every now and then.

I finally took him to the dogtor this past Saturday. After much discussion and a finger up the butt (the dogtor’s finger up Tyler’s butt!), we came to the conclusion that he’s having these poopy issues because he likes to eat the dead leaves that blow up onto our patio and into the little terrace of grass where he plays and goes potty. It would probably help matters if I would sweep and rake up the few leaves that had collected.

I didn’t have time to get to it over the weekend. So today during lunch I decided I would make a start and at least vacuum the patio rug. That worked out so well that I thought I would try vacuuming the brick border around the patio. Next thing you know, I’m vacuuming the grass. Three vacuum bags later I noticed my neighbor was looking out of her laundry room window, laughing at me.

Yes. The gossip has now been confirmed and I am officially the neighborhood crazy dog lady.

The things we do for love.

Puppy kisses, freely given!

My first dog, Bailey, came from a (responsible) breeder. Over the years, partly because of my work on Iams Home 4 the Holidays, I’ve become much more aware of the need that orphaned pets have for homes. After Bailey crossed the Rainbow Bridge, I knew my next dog would come from rescue.

I can never say enough good stuff about Small Paws Rescue, Inc. I have supported them for years, and without Small Paws I would never have found Tyler.

Peek-A-Boo!

I’ve told this story before, but it’s worth telling again. Tyler was found wandering in the street, nearly comatose and starving. The nice people who found him (and another puppy he was with) to him to the local humane society shelter. The dogtor at the shelter discovered that Tyler (and the other puppy) had parvo. (What’s parvo?) This put both puppies at the top of the death row list.

Tyler in June 2010--skinny with a bad haircut

Someone at the shelter phoned the regional team leader for Small Paws. He picked up the puppies and took them to a veterinary clinic where Small Paws paid for treatment (Treating parvo) and got the puppies well. I got an email asking if I was ready to be a mom again–and I said YES!

My handsome boy.

Here we are four-and-a-half months later, and I still can’t hardly believe how lucky I am that Tyler came into my life. For all the trouble he had at the start of his life, he is an amazingly sweet dog. He hasn’t met the person–or the dog–that he didn’t like. Though we have some training issues yet to deal with (like coming when I say “come”) he was really fast in being potty trained. He has not chewed up any of my shoes, socks, or undies–nor does he seem to have interest in them.

Tyler's safe spot--between Grandma's feet!

Best of all, he has formed a strong bond not just with me, but also with my mom. I can’t describe the joy this brings my heart, to see Tyler snuggling up to my mom. My sweet Bailey–much as I loved her–was strictly a one-person dog and never bonded with my mom like Tyler. Goofy as it sounds, we are now a “pack” and our heart is Tyler.

Thank you Small Paws for giving me such a sweet little soul to cherish!