Buffy
Tipsy
Daphne
July 8, 2012
May 21, 2012
Lady - Then & Now
Lady is a young pit that was at Okefenokee
Humane Society for several months. When the animal control officer found her, she was chained
to a tree and was basically starving to death.
She was so weak that she collapsed on the way to the officer’s truck and had to be carried.
She was nurtured back to health by a
group of wonderful, caring volunteers at the shelter.
Last week Lady was transported by a group of
dedicated individuals who drove many, many miles to see that she made it safely to a no-kill
rescue in Minnesota.
This is the difference love and care can make in an animal.
April 26, 2012
National Kids & Pets Day
April 26 is National Kids & Pets Day, a day dedicated to furthering the magical bond between children and animals and to help bring awareness to the plight of pets in shelters awaiting new homes. National Kids & Pets Day encourages you to ADOPT rather than shop. Millions of orphaned pets sit in shelters awaiting new homes. There are many reasons for a child to have a pet for a companion but one of the biggest reasons is a child that learns how to be compassionate towards pets will most likely be compassionate towards pets and people when they are adults. When children care for a pet, they learn responsibility which is vital for their social development. Children that care for a pet while growing up are more nurturing and compassionate which creates a more dedicated and loving parent and pet owner.
I have had pets, both cats and dogs, my entire life and believe I got my love of animals from my Daddy. That's me in the picture, holding one of the many, many dogs that have crossed my path over the years.
April 25, 2012
March 23, 2012
National Puppy Day
National Puppy Day is a special day, recognized on March 23rd annually, to celebrate the magic and unconditional love that puppies bring to our lives. But more importantly, it's a day to help save orphaned puppies across the globe and educate the public about the horrors of puppy mills, as well as further our mission for a nation of puppy-free pet stores.
National Puppy Day was founded in 2006 by Pet Lifestyle Expert, Animal Behaviorist and Author, Colleen Paige, who is also the founder of National Dog Day and National Cat Day. This holiday, as well as others, are part of Colleen Paige's Animal Miracle Foundation & Network, a non-profit organization which offers financial assistance and educational programs ranging from pet cancer to fire safety and travel safety for kids and pets alike. AMF also hosts many wonderful holiday festivals and trade shows throughout each year and brings local shelter pets to these events hoping to find them a forever home.
February 13, 2012
January 17, 2012
How Could You?
 |
| RIP Binky |
How Could You?
A dog's letter
Copyright © Jim Willis 2001, all rights reserved
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask, "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.
We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.
Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. T hey understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.
You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, "How could you?"
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, "How could you?"
Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her.
It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.
We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.
Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. T hey understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.
You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, "How could you?"
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, "How could you?"
Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her.
It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
A Note from the Author:If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as You read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American & Canadian animal shelters.
January 15, 2012
Pumpkin Dog Treats
- 1 15 oz. can pumpkin
- 1 cup water (or low-sodium broth)
- 4 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1 cup oatmeal
- 4 cups oatmeal flour
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Combine pumpkin, water, oil and cinnamon.
Add flour and oatmeal slowly, mixing after each addition.
Roll dough on a floured surface to 1/4" in thickness.
Cut into desired shapes and sizes.
Bake 40 minutes on an ungreased cookie sheet.
January 13, 2012
January 9, 2012
January 1, 2012
Organic Wheat-Free Dog Treats
Ingredients:
Directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Peel the sweet potato and cut into ½ inch pieces. In a pan filled with 2 cups waters, boil the sweet potatoes until soft. Reserve the cooking liquid and set aside.
In a large bowl mash the sweet potatoes. Then add ½ cup of the cooking liquid, and ½ cup peanut butter. Mix until well blended.
Next mix together the baking powder, brown rice flour, and oat flour in a small bowl. Then add to the sweet potato mixture, and mix until the dough comes together.
Lightly flour your work surface with either brown rice flour or the oat flour. Roll the dough out about ¼ inch thick. Cut into shapes with a cookie cutter. Place the treats on a cookie sheet- It’s ok to have the treats close together they won’t stick to each other.
Bake the treats for 20-30 minutes until golden brown or slightly hard. The treats will crisp as they cool.
http://www.organicsoul.com/organic-wheat-free-dog-treats/
** To make your own oat flour or brown rice flour...
Measure 1 cup of rolled oats or brown rice into a blender or food-processor. (I use a coffee grinder).
Blend the oats/rice on the "pulse" setting until the oats/rice are ground into a powderlike consistency. Depending on the speed and power of your blender, this process should take 60 seconds or less.
Stop the blender and stir the flour to ensure that all the oats/rice have been finely ground.
One cup of rolled oats will yield approximately 1 cup of oat flour. Your yield may be slightly higher with steel-cut oats, which are larger than rolled oats
Foster Failure
After fostering "Lefty" for three weeks, I was contacted by the shelter manager who told me he needed Lefty back so that he could be prepared for transport to a rescue in Minnesota. I knew it would be tough but I was prepared to let him go. I even fixed him a going away bag with his favorite stuffed toy and dog treats, along with a knotted toy I made out of an old t-shirt.
The more I thought about letting him go the more he tugged at my heart. I thought about how well he gets along with Sophie and Dakota and how happy he seems here with us. Later that night I emailed the shelter manager and asked if it was too late for me to adopt Lefty. Thankfully it wasn't.
This shelter doggie got a new name and a new home for Christmas! His name is now Rocco and he now shares a home with his doggie siblings - Sophie and Dakota, and six cat siblings - Maeka, Isabelle, Jasmine, Coco, Moka, Fonzi.
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