Can't save them all...

Had to say that to myself over and over again last Thursday morning. I was on my way to work - it had been pouring rain just a few minutes before. As I turned on to a side street off a VERY busy main street, I thought I saw a dog laying in the grass, not three feet from the busy road. "Couldn't be," I said to myself. And, of course, quickly said, "What could I do anyway?" But of course I turned around. I'm in the "new" car - the one with the ivory-colored leather seats....sigh. Sure enough, there's this big dog just laying in the rain. He looked at me, and I put out my hand, and he came right to me. Smoke colored with liquid brown eyes. What now? I opened the back seat door and he climbed right in the car, but immediately broke my heart as I could tell he had arthritis. I keep a blanket in the back seat for dog-transporting events, and he sat right down on it. Calm, sweet, old.

As he was male - and I'm pretty sure I heard him cough a couple of times - I had no choice but to take him to the animal shelter. I couldn't risk exposing the girls to whatever. One of the hardest things I've ever had to do. The guy there asked me to fill out paperwork, and I started crying. I think he thought it was my dog, that I was abandoning him, and he told me that I didn't have to complete it if I didn't want to. That solid stainless steel door clanging shut. Ugh.

I placed an ad in the paper, and on PetFinders. Called all the veterinarian offices in the vicinity. Drove the entire neighborhood Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Made sure his picture was listed on the animal shelter's website. But I haven't had the heart to go back and see if somebody claimed him.

If only I COULD save them all. Or better yet if they didn't NEED saving at all.

Life in the pack

Life with the other girls is good. Daisy turned 14 in April! That's old for any dog, and very old for a golden retriever. Ruby will be 12 in July - also impossible.

Our pack extends to our yard, as well. Squirrels and birds abound (and probably other things that I don't want to know about!). On Saturday morning, I had to do squirrel rescue. We have a pair of corn cob holders in the oak tree outside the living room window. They're a wire spiral, wider at the top than the bottom, and as they near the bottom the wire is coiled more tightly. We've had them up for years, but Saturday morning a squirrel managed to get caught in one - he somehow managed to get one of his toes caught in the lower part of the spiral. He was trying to get away in the opposite direction of the spiral, so he was only successful in getting himself (please don't ask me how I know it was a he...) more firmly stuck. I stood in the living room for a couple of minutes, watching him struggle, thinking about who I could call. When I saw him start trying to bite off his foot I knew it was up to me. So, in my robe, I went out and climbed up on the milk crate we used to restock the corn. Squirrel freaking out. Yep, toe firmly caught. I climbed down, grabbed my thickest pair of garden gloves. Back on the milk crate, I grabbed his foot in one hand (please don't bite me please don't bite me) and the holder in the other hand and twisted in opposite directions. Voila! Freedom.

Time for update

Obviously, this blog has been even more silent than the bead blog.

We lost Loretta the day after Thanksgiving. I'm still literally heartbroken. Just can't seem to move past it. I took a day off sick the 12th of November, which allowed me a few extra minutes in bed. Loretta rolled over on her back for a tummy rub, and as I was rubbing I felt this large swelling. She shifted, and I couldn't feel it...but I was just so sure I'd felt something. I got up and called the vet, and Tony and I took her out there that afternoon. They did an ultrasound, and found a tumor - a hemangiosarcoma - on her spleen. They removed her spleen on Friday. She didn't do particularly well after that, but enough so that we decided to put her on chemo. Loretta was one of those dogs that, even though a golden retriever, wasn't particularly animated. So, it wasn't always easy to tell if she felt bad. Anyway, we were going to start the chemo, which at best would have given us about 7 to 8 months, on Monday, but she didn't make it until then. She died at home late Friday night, only 8 1/2 years old.

Since then I've read that this kind of tumor isn't particularly uncommon in dogs, and is most common in German Shepherds and Goldens. It's very aggressive and the outcome is almost never good. I'll just say for now that we're in discussions about a new puppy - Tony is holding out, I'm as ready as I can be. We actually bought Loretta from a top breeder after loosing Susanna (the original Yellow Dog) to leukemia. We took every precaution that she was well-bred as possible to eliminate any kind of problems. Daisy - now going on 14, which is exceptionally old for a large dog - is from the same breeder. We miss her every day.