Good Bye Rilla Roo x 2

It took a while to be able to write the last installment of Rilla Roo.

After chewing through the plastic crate, I came home to Rilla's sweet little face sticking through the crate. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if she was alive or dead. Then I saw a pink tongue as she extracted herself from the hole. Whew!

This was a Friday. That morning, I had tested her by leaving her to see how long it took for her separation anxiety to take hold. Six minutes and she attempted to remove the tubes of the portable air conditioner. I needed help. I had already missed weddings and medical appointments. I certainly couldn't start missing work. Unfortunately, the organization I worked with only allowed phone calls if it was life or death. This rule had been weighing on  me for a long time.

It wasn't Rilla's fault. It wasn't my fault. But we were trapped. She couldn't be around other animals due to her mange which made it nearly impossible to get dog-sitting help from anyone.  After hours of deliberation, I e-mailed the foster coordinator to let her know that I would need to turn Rilla in on Sunday.

Separation anxiety can be worked with if not cured. Nothing about Rilla's case said "lost cause." But her case was complicated by mange (for now) and would take more time than I was able to commit.

I did not blow off commitments easily and the difficulty I was experiencing in getting help from the rescue organization was causing resentment. It felt like I was being forced to do something that was not the best for Rilla (returning her after we had finally bonded).

I arrived at the office and was told to let Rilla off the leash. This allowed her to run around with other dogs negating the lengths I had taken during the past several weeks to keep her away from other animals.

Rilla immediately retreated to a remote corner. My heart wrenched to see her right back where she started.

I went through her meds and treats on which I had written detailed post-its with the coordinator hoping she would pay attention to them. Would anyone care about the trick I figured out to get her to urinate outside? Did anyone care that Rilla now urinated every 8 or 9 hours down from 36 hours? Outside on the grass instead of down the front of my clothes in the basement out of fear?

I drove home, my heart twisting in pain. That morning Rilla had jumped onto my bed, walked up by my head and proceeded to rub her neck and back across my chest so that I'd rub her belly. A first! A huge sign of trust. And I just dumped her right back where I found her. How could I?

How could I? Well, here is where the resentment jumps in. The human feelings. I had to. I was at a point in my life where I had to watch out of for myself. I needed to take care of my energy level. And that is why this particular situation is so heart-wrenching. I felt forced to choose myself. A self I wasn't particular happy with at the time. But I had to choose me instead of innocent Rilla. Rilla who knew no better. Rilla who could come through this with some help; who needed no extra set-backs.

So I spent days on the rescue organization's Facebook page searching to find out where Rilla went. I finally tracked her down. The night I returned her she was kept at the office in an extra large plastic crate that she could not break out of. The next day she was taken to the vet who prescribed some anxiety medication after which she quickly responded to separation anxiety training. She was placed with an wonderful foster mother. She quickly found her forever family. The father works at home and the mother loves Rilla's sweet disposition.

It all worked out! Does that make me homo-sapian centric?

Well, either way, here's to Rilla Roo and her forever family. I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you. May you know only happiness for the rest of your sweet, cute life. I'll never forget you.

Preston

Preston!
The sweetest terrier mix there ever was.

I called Preston "Crash." He loved you so much, he "crashed" into you in an effort to be closer.



Preston was a stray for at least part of his life. He hadn't been treated for fleas and ticks until shortly before he arrived in Minnesota so he had tons of itchy, scratchy bites and to keep him from itching and scratching those itchy, scratchy bites, Preston had to wear a cone.

The dreaded Elizabethan Collar - or as we realists put it - the CONE. The cone brought with it new "crash" elements. Crashing into doorways, stairs, the backs of my knees...plus he had developed a nasty hot spot.

You can see the start of his hot spot

I didn't get a ton of cooperation from Preston in his wearing of the e-collar. But it got the job done!

This cuddle bug came close to being a "foster fail" (this is when the foster home adopts the rescue dog). It seems they all do one way or another. But he went to a great couple who will definitely enjoy him. And word on the street is - he might become one of those dogs that kids read to at the library! He'll do great as long as he can stop kissing them long enough to pay attention to the story!

Casper

My first temporary foggie (his foster family was leaving town for a long weekend), Casper, arrived Thursday night, April 26, 2012.  What would have been my father's 66th birthday. He would have loved this 60 lb lab mix. Gentle, playful, and beautiful. That was Casper.

Casper, all elbows

He'd been through a house fire with his original human family. He knew only how to play with his littermate, sister Powder. It was clear he hadn't been exposed to much. He was anxious at the dog park, anxious in the car, anxious, anxious, anxious. Did you know labs shed more when they're nervous? Me neither! Luckily my foster coordinator introduced me to the FURminator.

Casper's sister was having a worse time, though. She jumped through her foster family's picture window after being frightened by a passing garbage truck. Everyone is OK but she might need a little more work before she's ready for adoption.

So anxious he shed like a snake molting its skin. But look at that face!

Casper, the friendliest of ghosts, joined me for the weekend before my final project was due for spring semester. I explained the situation to him and he responded by being calm, chewing his bones, and patiently waiting for playtime.

Casper the Friendliest of Ghosts

And though I don't think he knew what he was doing when he hopped into the trunk, when the time came to take him back to his permanent foster family, he even helped me say goodbye.

Sea Monster

It's only been three weeks since Zeus died. Zeus was my 17 lb Yorkie.

I decided to take my first foggie (foster doggie). Maybe helping a homeless dog find a home would make me feel better.

Smath lay under the desk at the rescue organization's office while the other dogs who were also waiting for their fosters played.

His name was Smath. He was a stray from Missouri. A Bearded Collie mix they thought. When I picked him up from the rescue organization's office, it was full of dogs running around waiting for their foster humans. But Smath was under the desk, away from the chaos. He made very little eye contact and moved very slowly.

I immediately nicknamed him Sea Monster because his shaggy, unkept fur gave the illusion of seaweed draped over his body. The volunteers had trimmed the hair from around his eyes so he could see.

Over the next two weeks, Sea Monster received royal treatment at Wag 'N Woofs doggy salon.  His coat was in such horrendous condition it took 2.5 days to remove the mats, many of which had grown into his skin. They worked slowly because of the pain. Sea Monster got lots of breaks and treats.

After his first session at Wag 'N Woofs. He already looks more dapper!

Gene Simmons of Kiss or Smath of MO?

During the transformation he likened everything from a Gene Simmons Bobblehead to a lion with a crazy mane and poof at the end of his tail. In the end they had to almost completely shave him. But WOW is he going to have an awesome coat!

With his new looks, Sea Monster tripped the life fantastic. He joined one of the owners of Wag 'n Woofs, Ashley, on Twin Cities Live for their Dog Makeover spot.

The crowd fell in love with him - so did the staff and executives. In fact, the Sales Director for Hubbard Broadcasting, Ray Mirabella, spotted him, filled out an adoption application and now Sea Monster is living it up in Woodbury with Ray, his wife and their other dog. His forever name is Amigo.

Smath with his new haircut and ready for his new family.

During his time with me, Sea Monster learned not to be scared to walk through doorways or up and down stairs. He learned very quickly to be a cuddly little guy. It didn't take him long to invite himself up to sleep by my head. Sea Monster knew instinctively he could get my attention by taking my spot on the couch or in bed before I got there.

His wise, haunting eyes told me from the beginning that although it might feel like I was teaching him, they held a lifetime of knowledge of which I would be lucky to take a small chunk.

Thank you, Sea Monster, for sharing your healing process with me.

And thanks for letting me tap on your bottom canine tooth!