There are Amazing Days

Some days make you believe in others, make you happy to be shaken on by a wet dog with fleas, and make you so grateful to know the people you do.  Coming off a high from the day prior that volunteers, rescues, and adoptive parents had found homes for all 43 of the dogs that had been on the euthanasia list, I refocused on the dogs that remain, because there will always be more dogs a the shelter.

I started the morning with a noise at the front door; our door handle was being turned.  Slinking out of bed and tip toeing over to it, I rose up on tiptoe to look out the peephole.  No one there, so I turned the handle and opened the door to find a brown bag full of home made cookies with a note “For the volunteers.”  My ‘Hallmark’ neighbors had struck again.  (Insert pleasant smile as I return to the bedroom, and get dressed to go to the shelter).

At the shelter, I see Sam who finally answers the question I’d been asking for weeks.  “Are you the volunteer coordinator?”  “Yes.”  This is awesome because SAM is awesome.  She’s headed to an adoption event, where we’ll have a great representative there to spread the name of the shelter and hopefully get a dog or two adopted.

Turn around and I see Britton, on her birthday, giving orientation to a new group of volunteers.  To anyone who volunteers their time, seeing more hands to help, is always a welcome sign.  Seeing one of the core volunteers there on a day other women might be pampering themselves with manicures and pedicures (NOT that there’s anything wrong with that ;0) is inspiring and helps you realize how amazing the people around you are.

Getting organized and ready to give a number of dogs baths and shaves I run into Barb, who agreed to wash dogs with me, and she’s getting organized as well.  I ask, “How long do you have?” expecting two or maybe three hours of her Saturday and she replies “As long as you need.”  (Insert relieved smile as I so look forward to working with someone on this exhausting task).

While bathing the dogs, one of us washes, one of us dries and walks, and we make excellent progress.  For the first time, we meet a dog that allows us to shave her matted ears and rear while she’s still awake.  This is RARE at a shelter since so many dogs come here never having experienced real care, let alone grooming.  Because we don’t have to anesthetize this pup, we have more time to bathe more pups.  Excellent!

The only hiccup in this day, when Barb and I prepare to wash one of two dogs housed in the same kennel (because they came in together) and talk about how we’ll try to address their mattes, their long nails, their dirt and their fleas, occurred when one of the staff leads a ‘owner’ back to our area who nearly freaks out that we are washing ‘her dogs.’  She is here to reclaim one of six dogs taken from her home for neglect and being over the limit for KC of four pets. 

When I turn to her and say, “That dog still needs a bath, and has fleas, and the dog I’m washing now has mattes…” she interrupts me to say, “I’m a groomer!”  Well, obviously not.  Mattes, fleas, and long nails are something a groomer would not allow.  YOU, are simply a liar - or delusional.  She took back one of the dogs, relinquished several others, and left one there.  Not much of an owner, absolutely not a groomer.  I hope I see her again because Barb and I thought of all the things we wished we had said, so next time…

Not allowing that to slow our progress, the next visitor to the spa for the day, was one of the neighbors that also gave the cookies.  This time he had so many paper towels to donate he had to bring them in his car because they’d be too much for mine.  Not waiting for thanks, he just wanted to know where they should go.  Nice.

At the end of day Barb and I got to all but one dog we planned to bathe, and that little girl is on my list for Monday.  She’s a senior chow, Shelley, who came in so matted for a whole week we considered her ‘Sheldon.’  Now that her Kennel Cough is better, washing her will be ok so we don’t chill her too much.

Working the full day, when I’d only planned a few hours, I headed home damp, exhausted, smelly, but feeling really good.  A quick stop at Lowe’s to get an attachment for the hose so washing dogs in the future will be easier, and I’m verklempt as the extremely helpful man in plumbing, noticed my shirt, asked where I was working, and said “Keep up the good work.  I got a dog from there once”  It feels pretty good to be recognized for doing this work, and wonderful to know he's smart enough to save a dog rather than shop for one.  (Insert exhausted smile and tears at corner of eyes).

Approaching our door I find more paper towels from another neighbor, and a plate of brownies.  More treats for the volunteers and more recognition that people support and care about what we are doing.

Crossing our threshold I walk down our long hallway, hoping hubby just started slicing, peeling, and prepping for our Mexican dinner at home.  What I found, sitting brilliantly on our granite counter, was a literal PILE of supplies for the shelter with a handmade sign taped to the tower of paper towels “Happy Anniversary, Love Mike”.  I cried.  That was not only the cap to an amazing day, where hope and accomplishment reigned supreme, but also absolutely the best anniversary gift I could ever receive.  I can hardly wait to get to the shelter again and deposit the puppy food, scissors, clipboards, peroxide, bleach, peanut butter, collars and puppy toys (to name only some of the treasure) to the others.  I’m pretty sure they will be almost as excited as I am.

So, there are amazing days.  :0)

A Matter of Perspective – Death Penalty for Criminals and the Homeless

As Missourians watch and read the news whether a convicted murderer will be put to death, they also get the debate whether he should be put to death or receive a stay of execution, life without parole, and whether the death penalty should even exist in a modern society.  Odd parallels are present to the fight to save dogs from a shelter. 

Capital punishment is only prescribed for murder, and many argue the idea that “…an eye for an eye makes the world blind.”  Euthanasia is dictated for some dogs that aggressively hurt a human, a dog, a cat, particularly if they killed the other animal and their owner will not reclaim the pet and get them training.   Once a ‘Bite Dog’ is in the shelter, they have approximately 10 days until they are put down.  What if Capital Punishment happened 10 days following conviction? 

The Capital Punishment debate has proponents on both sides, with some of the same arguments for humans and dogs.  Some believe a convicted murderer can be rehabilitated or that extenuating circumstances should be taken into consideration, for example someone beaten as a child, someone coerced or trained to be bad. 

The same argument holds for dogs, just because they bit or even killed once doesn’t mean they will do it again, and the situation under which it happened may explain the behavior.  Was the dog taunted, was the dog frightened?  Did the owners think it was funny when the dog tormented the cat, did they let it kill birds and squirrels and not realize the possibility of escalation?  Not to mention those terrible owners who train their dogs to be aggressive.  Even with all this, I still feel safer around a dog that has bit and even killed, than I do around a human that has killed.  

Anyone condemned to death has protestors and lawyers trying to save their life, or at least prolong it through court appeals; a preference for life in jail without parole.  Even for the most heinous among us, someone will stand up and say taking any human life is wrong and they are spared. 

So what if a dog never bit, what if a dog did nothing more than get picked up for being on the street without identification, without someone to claim them – they are just homeless? 

The dogs in shelters have volunteers, with the help of rescue groups and potential adopters, frantically trying to save them all.  We send emails, cross post in all social media we have access to, and call our friends and family and all say the same thing – This is a good dog that doesn’t deserve to die. 

The staff at the shelter appreciate the help but also face the brutal reality that we don’t have space enough.  More dogs arrive at the shelter every day and we have to find a way to service the public.  Sometimes I wonder if we’re really enabling the public?

As Missourians talk about how expensive maintaining death row is, and the court costs of death penalty cases, I think of our municipal shelter struggling to maintain daily operations.  More like a field hospital or disaster relief center, the shelter focuses on what MUST happen every day and staff tell themselves “Maybe tomorrow I’ll get the time to bathe that dog…”  What if Missouri stopped debating the death penalty, just sentenced to life in jail without parole, and all that money spent on their trials and stays and even the execution itself was instead spent to better the community they had harmed?  It costs less for life without parole that an execution in most cases.

What if we call euthanasia at shelters, in the case of healthy and adoptable dogs, exactly what it is; Killing…a death penalty for doing nothing wrong but being homeless.

What is it saying about all of us that dogs are treated like criminals, shelters can be like jails, and a death penalty is imposed on a dog just because there are too many of them?

What if we rounded up all the homeless in every city, put them in a jail for five to 60 days, then if no one came to claim them, if no one wanted to foster, rescue, or adopt them, we killed them too?  They are on the streets, they don’t have an address, they dig through trash, need baths and shaves, and are perceived as a nuisance.  (Just ask me, I live in an area with plenty of homeless.)  In reality they are as kind and nice as any dog at the shelter.  But I’d take a dog into my home before I’d take a homeless person.  What’s that saying about me?

What if we advertised ‘Spay and Neuter’ as ‘Sterilize and Vasectomize’ on bumper stickers, and told the Octa-moms, the Duggars, and John and Kate we need to remove a few of their kids because they are over the limit?

What if city ordinances were passed to say you can’t live here if you’re Irish, Italian, or Muslim, or Jewish?   But go to another city and you’re ok.  People want to adopt Pit Bulls, but they can’t if they live in the wrong neighborhood.

What if we treated humans like we treat animals?  What if we treat animals like we treat humans?

There’s no clear right or wrong here, no opinion to press or sell.  Only the quote from Gandhi you probably all know: “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”  And then a quote from a comment board “Do people realize we are all animals or is there a documented belief that humans are not animals?”

An Open Letter to Volunteers- Perseverance

Today the euthanasia list for this week came out; 34 dogs most the volunteers know will be humanely put down Wednesday at 5:00 CST due to time and space limitations.  This means 34 dogs we have walked, gotten to know the character of, and shown love to will no longer exist the next day simply because the shelter has no more room for them and they've been there long enough now a decision has been made to make room for more dogs coming in each day.

I know 34 sounds like a lot (it is), but there are over a 100 dogs at the shelter now, and we simply cannot sustain support for that many animals.  Our building is far beyond it's life expectancy, and literally, we don't have enough kennels let alone staff to care for this many.  At some point, the quality of life for a dog that has been at a shelter for over 30, 40, and 50 days has to be a consideration.  If you saw the shelter, you'd understand.  You wouldn't like it, but you'd understand.

One of the dogs, Peaches, was likely mis-labeled as a Pit Bull and just missed being adopted because the family lives in a city with an ordinance against the breed.  After the family selected another dog and left, at least two of the staff determined she is really a Rhodesian Ridgeback.  That paper work error, will likely cost this dog her life.  One other, Tabitha, has a cherry-eye, and is often overlooked by potential adopters because they don't know what it is and haven't stopped to ask us or we could tell them it's easily remedied and she would make a wonderful pet.  And each of these 34 dogs has a story, has traits and ways about them which the volunteers could tell you if you were interested in hearing.  So here's my letter to some of the core volunteers, who share my sadness as I write, and have to find a way to face tomorrow working against a clock, and then Thursday to return to walk the dogs that remain.

I post it here so others know what it's like so they will decide to adopt a dog rather than shop for one, and when they refuse to support a shelter that euthanizes for time and space limitations, realize that's not changing the equation it's only ensuring a new list is published each week.  If you choose to go to a 'no kill shelter' I'm glad you're still adopting -- grateful even -- but they can't be 'no kill' without a network of other organizations that enable their position.  The dogs still exist, even if they aren't in the best facility.  Pet overpopulation IS an epidemic in this country.

Ladies,

I know this is already a hard and long week, but I want to let you all know how much you mean to me, and I haven't even met you all in person - we've emailed like fiends!  It's amazing the work we've been doing, and work we will get done.  We won't save all of them, but we will save as many as we can.  I know we are looking for a 'success story' to share with others, and right now all I have to offer is one thing which keeps me going each and every day; Buddy's brooms.

Ever since volunteering there, I could easily see basic necessities were needed; bleach, spray bottles, paper towels, peroxide, alcohol, etc.  It was shocking to me the day I asked Jeremy where more paper towels were and he pointed to a roll in a plastic bin sitting to the side, to which I said "No, where do we keep back stock?  I don't want to take these, the Treatment Room needs a new roll."  When he shrugged, then said "That may be it" the full weight hit me; an animal shelter with (at that time) over 40 dogs might just have run out of paper towels -- are you kidding me?

So I've started my modest 'Stock the Shelter' program for my building to gather these much needed items for the Holidays.  Obviously I've just started and we haven't reached any of the goals yet.  But each day I come home, I find something at my door.  One neighbor family, who adopted their pup Buddy from a shelter, have consistently given me supplies to bring in almost every day I've been there.  Towels, peroxide, a dustpan, trash bags, toys, food, leashes, collars, and yesterday two happy yellow brooms were waiting for me -- I think of them as Buddy's brooms.

Nearly every day Buddy's Dad emails to make sure I got the items, to check how the list is coming along, and promise he'll bring more tomorrow.  Nearly every day I feel like a secret admirer has left a Hallmark card on my doormat and I get to feel less alone, more supported, and know it's going to get brighter.  I also remember why I'm doing this, not just because I love dogs, but because I want them to live lives like Buddy has.

Living near the 'Hallmarks' of this world, and getting to work with women who persevere as you all do, is an amazing way to live a life.  That we face some horrific and heartbreaking things is unfortunate, but accurate testimony to our own strength and perseverance.  I believe in each and every one of you.  We are doing what we can, we are giving what we have, and we are making a difference to every dog that is saved and that's what we have to focus on.

What we see, is dismal.  But what we forget to see because it's not in front of us every day is a shelter dog like Buddy is alive today, he is living every day to the fullest with two parents who love and adore him, neighbors who know his name and greet him before his mom and dad, and I remember that Buddy is still around because at one time, one week, and when his time was almost out, he got out of a shelter and got to live the life he was meant for.  We wont' save them all, but we will save as many as we can.  And those we save, will live long happy lives because of us.  

Keep your chins up and your hearts open -- they're counting on US.

Who Hates Puppies?

Once watched a show on Discovery or Nat Geo that explained why babies are so attractive in nature.   Whether through scent, appearance, or sound, Mother Nature saw fit to make babies pretty irresistible – literally.  The show purports that infants in all species are attractive to keep them cared for, and keep parents from abandoning them when they need care so desperately.

So of our own species we have to ask, Who Hates Puppies?  Well, you’d think that would be a tough question to answer, but the behavior of some tells me they just aren’t natural creatures themselves to reject these little pups. 

One puppy arrived because the ‘owner’ was kicking the little guy and force-rolling him down a hill.  Concerned people saw, pictured, and called police.  A crack-pipe was found in the persons’ pocket, the puppy was taken away, and taken to this shelter.

One puppy was found with a sibling, in a box that someone happened upon.  Abandoned and cold, we don’t know where the mother is or any other litter mates are, and their little faces, little eyes tell us, they don’t know either.

One puppy was dropped off by an ‘owner’ who stated he just couldn’t care for him or the four siblings anymore after raising them for five months.  When asked if they were healthy or any concerns we should know about – “Na man, they’re all good.”  About an hour later and two of the puppies were spilling blood from mouths and rectums because the Parvo was that bad.  Another showed similar symptoms of a virus so advanced there is no help for them, and only two remain.  These two may or may not live since this virus kills 80% of puppies inflicted.  Worse, because of this ‘owner’ bringing in pups he HAD TO KNOW WERE SICK, he’s now exposed over 80 other dogs in the kennel to this highly contagious virus.

So you have to ask, Who Hates Puppies?  I don’t know what is wrong with them, but obviously they’re unnatural.  Maybe that means they’re just evil.

Layla's Social Network

Holding Layla, wrapped like a baby, upon my shoulder, listening to her cough, feeling her warmth, knowing she’s nuzzling into my neck, and I’m a new mom.  I guess this is what it feels like, not having any kids of my own, but holding this little pup in my arms, I’m her mom today.

It’s an amazing journey she’s already been on, but an even more astounding one  upon which she’s about to embark.  Born, we don’t know where, cared for or loved, we aren’t sure.  She came to the shelter picked up by ACO.  She was matted head to toe, had no teeth, and not able to walk well because of the burrs sinking into her paws and pads with every step.  She was, in short, a mess.

In the 8 days she was in the shelter, she sat 5 alone in the kennel with only food and water offered since volunteers are not allowed to walk dogs for the first 5 days because their ‘owners’ might come back for them.  It’s a ‘liability-thing.’  Without teeth, she was offered hard food which had been soaked in warm water until mushy, and that was the best we could give.   Noting she wasn’t eating, we tried a few soft foods, but she seemed disinterested.  I don’t know if she ate anything in those first 5 days.

Emancipation date, and we took her from the kennel for the firs time, injected her with anesthesia, and shaved her body clean.  Wrapped in towels she woke in my lap, someone she only met today, and someone who delivered her to a quick shot in the rear end.  Cold, nearly naked, and in a new room I can only imagine how that must feel for someone so small.  She’s 8lbs against the world, and the world has the upper hand.

Bringing her home to foster, she knows the world finally gave her a break.  Meeting the 80lb Lab in this temporary home must have been daunting, but something she could learn to live with.  Eating food, drinking water, being warm, safe and dry, and she’s 180 degrees from whence she came.  Last night she slept in the king size bed, surrounded by a lab, and my arm, that loved the feeling of her lungs lifting, lowering, and that tiny heartbeat in my hand.

Today, she’s spry, perky, but still feeble from her experiences and still naked with cotton ball hair whisping from her back and tail.  I wonder if she thinks this is ‘home’ forever, as she likes laying on Denali’s bed (my lab), sitting in my lap, and is already growing into a place in this family.  It’s not her forever home, but another stop on this journey.

Tomorrow, at 8:45 am, I’ll hand her to another kind stranger who will start Layla’s next chapter.  Traveling with a car load of other dogs, she’ll begin her ‘transport’ to the rescue who will care for her going forward, until that forever home really comes.  From Kansas City to Bethany Missouri (90 miles), then from Bethany to Ames Iowa (114 miles), then Ames to Owatonna Minnesota (135 miles), then Owatonna to Brooklyn Center (75 miles), and on she will go to Milwaukee where her rescue awaits.  Nearly each leg of the trip is driven by a separate volunteer, each taking their time, their gas, and their wards to new homes, rescues, and hopes for a forever future of love and kindness. 

If Layla could write a book, this would be a harrowing journey from rags to riches – canine-style.  She could journal to explain her desperation, destitution, and ultimate salvation at the hands of strangers who loved her, and will always have her in their hearts.  We’ve come together in such an amazing ‘social network’ to save these dogs, give them a chance for the life they were born for, but also for ourselves.  We’re saving ourselves every step of Layla’s journey, we’re becoming more whole than we knew we could be.  Thanks to Layla for saving us.

If you’re interested in volunteering at Halfway Home Pet Adoptions, helping with foster dogs, giving time to transport dogs to a better world, if you want to join this ‘social network’ – we’d love to ‘Friend’ you.  

Is Fostering a Dog like Crack?

So I describe myself as an avid dog lover…while picturing large dogs in my head.  I have an 80lb Yellow Lab and she’s more or less the sun – read, center of my universe.  It’s not that I don’t like small dogs, they just never took up space in my heart, probably because they often stay so close to their own parents I haven’t bonded with them, or true to little-dog form they’ve snipped, snapped, and chased my larger dog around the park until even she turns to say “For cryin’ out loud stop – we’re on the same side idiot!” – in Bark of course, which I don’t speak, but can hear.

However, lately at the shelter, I’ve had the opportunity to learn guerilla grooming, which basically equates to shaving a dog bald trying to get all the matted hair removed.  We only resort to this when it’s the last resort and I’ll add it’s much easier to learn grooming on a dog that’s knocked out w/ drugs.  (I don’t recommend bathing them though – just keep that little note to yourself.)  The dogs have to be anesthetized for this, as no sane dog would permit clippers on his body this much, and removing matted hair clumps can be very painful depending on how bad and gunky they are.  The worst are burrs which lodge in soft leg hair and prick little leg skin whenever dogs sit or lay down.  Getting these free takes approach from all sides, breaks in between to avoid that nasty clipper burn, and re-approach with a one-two combo scissor / clipper action until they come off.  Seriously, show me the tree that needs to seed down this badly and I’ll show you one annoying tree!

The first shave I watched changed Sheldon to Shelley and the listing for this Chow from Male to Female - honestly, you couldn't tell because s/he had so much hair.  The first dog I guerilla groomed was George, he went from being a ‘Poodle Mix’ to a ‘Schnauzer Mix’ once we unstuck his ears from his front shoulders, and sheared the curly coat from his back side.    Amazing what a good shave can do, and because of this shave he went to a Schnauzer Rescue the very next day.  The second dog was Shandy, whom I’ve written an earlier blog regarding, and by now she’s well settled into her new home and some of her hair is starting to grow back.  I’m sure she’s forgiven me for the clipper burn, and maybe forgotten me because she has two new humans and a sister so spend all her time with now – Bliss.

But yesterday was Layla the poodle.  She’s so small, less than 8lbs, and so timid it’s hard to see a little dog like this go through so much, and go back to a 3 x 3 kennel that seems to swallow her up.  She gets brought to the shelter, knocked out for grooming, shaven naked except for her head, then wakes from anesthesia with a two playful pups in the same room and must wonder at the universe for this strange day.  After she’s fully woke up, it’s time for a bath to remove the dander and dirt and tear stains from around her eyes.  The only ‘good’ part of her day probably started then, being wrapped in a Turkish towel and hand fed lamb and rice (she doesn't have teeth anymore)  as my best ‘baby-voice’ spoke sweet nothings in her ear.

After shaving and bathing her yesterday – the best shave I’ve done yet which isn't saying alot but I'm sure she's happy I've improved – she still has most the hair around her head, giving her something of a poof-for-a-pooch hairdo.  Her skin is a fairer pink and brown freckles can be seen everywhere, including her wrinkled tail, all in prep for her big trip.  Saturday, she will be taking transport to her new rescue all the way in Milwaukee WI.  So that she doesn’t get sick between now and then, I’ll foster her for the rest of today thru Saturday morning when I’ll pass her along.  I already know tears will flow, but she’s going onto a better place on this planet – which she richly deserves.

I’ve been desperate to do more, and fostering is the perfect way, but living in a loft it’s challenging to know which fosters will work and which will not.  And my husband, justifiably so, is concerned at bringing in too much dog for our living space, which wouldn’t be fair to him, our dog, or any dog we’d foster.  But at the size Layla is, she won’t even take up as much space as a bag of chips.

Like an expectant parent with a planned c-section, I’m looking at the clock again and again counting down to my appointment; when I can go get her.  Today she’ll receive her shots and be spayed, and I’ll likely pick up a ‘punch-drunk’ Layla when I bring her home.  Once home, I’ll introduce her to Denali and see how this arrangement may be arranged so the two can get along – can’t have Layla nipping at Denali and can’t have Denali laying down on Layla!

Everyone says this, but it’s different when you feel it – saving a dog is really saving yourself.  But love is always like this, you do just know.  I’m so danged happy at the chance to do more for a dog, for this dog, I can hardly stand it.  Knowing I’m helping her get to a new home, even if it can’t be my home, feels like I’m working the Underground Railroad, or being a Suffragist, or just making the world a little better for one other living creature.  Do I miss my paycheck, well sortof, do I love this feeling – like you can’t imagine!  I grew up looking at role models and sometimes wondered, how did they do so much?  How can I ever do as much?  I don’t think that way now, every little, tiny, miniscule bit matters, but it’s like crack.  Do it once – help someone or something when you don’t have to – you’ll be hooked.  It’s not such a bad addiction to have really.  Want some?  :o)

Two Mastiffs

Looking for a positive thing to write is like looking at pennies in a dustpan and trying to sift for them through the debris.  I’m still looking.

In two weeks two Mastiffs’ have come to the shelter, both with very different stories.  Cecil, a tan Mastiff with a black muzzle, laid in the ‘Bite Section’ of the shelter for several weeks.  I caught a glimpse of him when helping with other chores or duties, but didn’t realize how long he had been there until I read his card.  This area of the shelter is where new intakes go until there is room on the main kennel floor for them.  It is also where suspected ‘Bite Dogs’ are held for 10 days until either their owner claims them, or the owner surrenders them and they are euthanized, or on a rare occasion the animals behavior can be evaluated and the incident explained or understood and the dog may still go up for adoption.  It’s not really death row, but it’s not a very good place for a dog to find himself.

Cecil was full-grown and very large, and there are only three kennels on the main floor that could even hold him.  So he sat in these back kennels, able to basically stand up and turn around and lay down again.  Every time I saw Cecil he looked depressed.  Head on paws, he looked up but did not always lift up his head.  I was told he’d lost 15lbs since coming to the shelter, and showed little interest in the food placed in his kennel.

I felt so sorry for him, and vowed to get him out for a walk and get him some fresh air.  But as days grew busier and the shelter took in enough animals to be nearly beyond capacity, another day would slip away and I hadn’t taken him out.  Then I found out normal volunteers are not allowed in the Bite Section at all, because there are not supposed to be adoptable dogs even back there.  As such, there aren’t any dogs for the volunteers to walk, pet, or treat.  Despite the fact Cecil was simply a stray, he was isolated with these other more aggressive dogs, and rarely had a chance for companionship.  (I want to note, this isn’t how the shelter wants things to be, they just don’t have enough kennels, enough floor space, or enough staff to address all the dogs received.)

Cecil was fed, and his kennel was cleaned daily, but no one took him out, no one rubbed behind his ears, and no one ran their hands from the crest of his crown down his long spine to rub that ever so high butt of his that was higher than my waistline.  He just lay waiting and waiting.  Maybe he was waiting for his chance to walk outside, at least get out of his kennel, but I think he was waiting for his parents to come find him in this place he should never have ended up.  No dog gets to the size Cecil was without a family – so where was his now?

Finally, on one day last week I took him out.  I made a bee-line through the shelter avoiding all the pleading sets of eyes, ignoring all the yips and cries, and I went straight to the back with borrowed keys for this area and I asked Cecil if he wanted a walk.  Rising to his royal stature befitting his bloodline, this ever so gentle giant stood, and then lowered his head so I could place the lead around his neck.  Only then had I discovered Cecil had a collar – a novelty for a stray -- so without hesitation I flipped the leash around to the other end and attached it to the ring rather than subjugate him to the humility of slipping a lead over his head and around his neck.  Taking him out the back door, I tested his ability to obey commands, or at least respond to the tone of my voice, and discerned whether he would be an easy walk or a trial.  His size alone demands respect, and my experience thus far meant I should size up whether I could handle Cecil or not.  Well, creampuff isn’t the right word, but by comparison to others I’d walked that day, it’s about right.

With almost disbelief on his face, in his eyes, Cecil stepped out of the kennel and looked back at me for indication of where to go.  I motioned with my hand and he found the path without waiting to be shown.  Passing through the large gates around the back of the kennel, Cecil began to take longer steps, increasing his gate, as if to test me back; was he really out of his kennel, was his ordeal finally at an end?  I’m not a trained animal behaviorist, but anyone with eyes could see what Cecil was doing.  Walking him from the back of the shelter and down the long driveway, his head was held high, his ears erect, and his eyes brightened.  He was looking for his way home. 

Now, many dogs walk down this driveway and want to keep going, but they often display a true reckless abandon; they just want to be away from where they were, but they don’t always know where they want to go.  Cecil did.  Whether he was trying to pick up the scent of owners, or simply a yard, he had somewhere he preferred to be and showed intent to discover it. 

Once at the end of the drive, with a busy street ahead, with remorse, I turned Cecil around, and used soothing tones of voice to encourage him to keep walking, even as he knew the direction was not where he wanted to be.  He continued to look over his shoulders as if to indicate, we’ve surely made a wrong turn.  But obligingly Cecil kept walking, although I noticed a shortened gait, and lower ears.  Cecil was intelligent enough to interpret this turn as a direction back to which a kennel nearly the same length as his body awaited.

As you could imagine inadvertently parading with Cecil like this drew stares.  Others wanted to meet this massive canine, get close enough to realize the full size, and be part of his existence.  One family, looking at other canines, changed their perspective entirely and said they would even give Cecil a loving home and come back the very next day for him.  In one fell swoop, the sympathy I felt for Cecil longing to find his parents evaporated as I felt at least, he’d find a new loving family and home of his own.

Quite different from Cecil, the black Mastiff known only as #A11456897 came into the shelter this weekend while I was gone.  I saw him today as soon as I made my way to this end of the shelter.  Larger in size, much larger head, and ferocious bark, this Mastiff is a true ‘Bite Dog.’  This Mastiff mauled a child and was being held in case the child developed further symptoms and for purposes of litigation.  This Mastiff growled, barked, and lunged toward me through the kennel door and made his presence, his territory, and his dislike of my presence in his territory abundantly clear.  Working at the shelter for several weeks now, a bark or lunge rarely intimidates, but this Mastiff is scary.

This Mastiff will likely be put down, and it will probably take several humans to do it.  This Mastiff is in the same kennel that Cecil was, in a similar body even, but is nothing like the other.  His eyes show only distrust and anger where Cecil showed kindness and observation.  Aside from sharing a bloodline, the two canines have no other similarities except for this – terrible owners.  One owner lost his or her dog, the member of their pack they neither placed a tracking chip in nor successfully sought out when Animal Control Officers (ACO) picked them up.  The other owner failed to train their large dog, or perhaps they trained him the worst way possible, but this dog is a danger to his own kind and ours.  Neither dog should have been at this shelter, neither should be hurt or have hurt anyone else – it’s not their breeds’ fault though, it’s our breed to blame.

To my sadness, Cecil died in that kennel from a turned stomach the same night I’d taken him for his one walk.  Even after the volunteers had discovered a rescue group to take him, we weren’t in time.  Cecil died alone, at night, with only a body of remains to mark a life once lived.  The black Mastiff will more than likely also die at this shelter, sharing the same kennel and fate as the other.  They represent to me those pennies, both swept up amid other debris and dirt.  Both had the same potential worth as the other and neither collected from the trash.