One Yes Leads to Another

It was going to be a simple thing really:  I signed up to volunteer with the Heigl Foundation to walk dogs they have in boarding.  The boarding facility is literally a twelve minute walk from my place, so I thought this would be a great opportunity to not only help some animals, but get in some dog time when I wasn't transporting, and possibly start a little exercise routine.

I met up with Candace, the volunteer coordinator, and we took out two dogs for our first walk:  Pretty, who was a giant 100 pound grey beast with dazzling yellow eyes, along with Neolle, a springer/lab mix (I'm guessing on that, I have no idea).  Noelle was calm, cool, and collective, and walked well on a leash.  I don't outweigh many dogs, but Pretty made me feel petite.  The fact that she hasn't yet learned to walk on a leash might have also added to her gravitational pull.

Candace and I traded dogs and we continued back around the area and decided Pretty was just too much for me to handle.  After Pretty went back to her kennel, Candace asked if I wanted to keep walking Noelle, or if I was done...or if I might want to spend the day with her.

Huh.  I hadn't thought of that.  I thought maybe an hour walk and then be on with my day.  But she's so sweet.  And calm.  And she's been in boarding since December.  The only time she gets out is when she's at an adoption fair.  The dog handler at the facility said the latest I could bring her back today was 5:30.

Or she could spend the night.  She's quite chill, and the dog deserves a night away from boarding.  Granted it's a nice facility and she probably gets time outside with the other dogs, but it is boarding.  She might like a home.  And with a nifty little "Adopt Me" bandana, a day in the park for exposure isn't a bad idea.

And so began my day with Noelle, with no expectations other than I would probably bring her back by 5:30.

Candace offered to give us a lift, but I said we'd just walk back to my place (or in the neighborhood).  We made it thirty feet down the alleyway in the direction of my apartment when Noelle plopped her butt down in the shaded portion of the pavement.  Candace rolled up silently in her Prius, and I said to her through the open window, "I think Noelle would like a ride."

Despite Noelle's initial disenchantment with going for a walk, she was even less excited to be in the apartment.  I left the main door open so she could see out the screen, and she watched in silence, except for the occasional glance over to me to ask we could leave again.  She paced, she panted, and it was clear she was anxious.

But it was hot outside.  The pavement had to be boiling.  I took her out for a few minutes at a time, and finally ended up doing my most hated Los Angeles move:  I drove somewhere so we could go for a walk.

I thought walking around Griffith Park near the merry-go-round (and hence children) would get her some good PR, and maybe someone would like to get to know her.  But no one bothered.  And she was so fascinated with every single scent that she really didn't care to meet people anyway.

Back at the apartment I was reminded how badly I need to get my carpet cleaned.  Noelle, who had had puppies of her own (all of which were adopted long ago), picked out and paused at every single place Pixie and Loki had peed or pooped.  There was no evidence visually.  But she found them all.  I watched in trepidation, just waiting for her to squat and mark her spot, as I had seen her do in the bushes and sidewalks.  But no, just a sniff, perhaps reminiscent of motherhood, and she moved on.  Somehow, in all those months in boarding, or maybe in her prior life, she was housebroken.  You have no idea how pleasant it is to trust an animal to not pee in the living room.  I had almost forgotten that delight.

I was worried about her panting and anxiety, and thought perhaps I should take her back to boarding.  They have an outdoor section where the dogs can hang together, and they even have a wading pool.  Maybe she would be happier there.  I didn't have a backyard for her to lounge out on, and she seemed stressed to be indoors.

It wasn't until I think her sleepiness finally overtook her that she relaxed enough to stop panting and just fall asleep on the couch.  It took her much time to get comfortable, and with the effort and exasperation it took her wiggling upside and pushing pillows and burying her head in the side of the couch, you'd think it was the most uncomfortable object on the planet.  But I guess it did the trick.

As she was snoozing, Candace called to see how it was going.  I told her I might bring her back since I thought maybe she wasn't comfortable, but on the other hand, maybe I should keep her the night since she was finally relaxed enough.

And then the decision was made for me.  First Candace said I should know what a gift I was giving Noelle, letting her crash on a couch and be out of boarding.  And then she told me that she received an application from a potential adopter and wanted to know if I could call the adopter and set a time for her to meet Noelle.  But she couldn't until after 5.

Decision made then.  Noelle will spend the night with me.  I explained I had never done an introduction before and Candace talked me through it over the phone.  It seemed easy enough.  The adopter called me back at 5:10, asked if she minded if she stopped at home to pick up her husband and dog, and then be on her way.  7pm, Noelle would meet her potential adopters.

I know we could have walked, but Noelle really seemed to enjoy car rides, so we drove back to the edge of Griffith Park, a less trafficked picnic ground, and I conducted my first Meet-n-Greet.

The couple seemed sweet, a good match for sweet Noelle.  And their dog Jack, also a breed of mixed genetics, was about Noelle's size and didn't seem to mind her.  They matched in temperament, both dogs content to walk side by side or near each other sniffing and taking in this new area.  The potential adopter said she didn't mind that Noelle wasn't all goo-goo and ga-ga over them; she expected her to be a dog: sniffing around on the ground in a leisurely walk.

It was less than half an hour: they talked about their place and their experience with Jack, and I gave them the little insight I had from knowing Noelle for the past ten hours.

I know I can't do home checks yet.  I don't want to be responsible for sending a dog to a home that isn't right.  But this felt okay.  This was doable: just letting person and dog meet and see how they are.  Noelle did give them each attention, and even Jack, and Jack didn't mind that the humans were happy to get kisses from Noelle.  I wasn't responsible for the ultimate Yes or No--I just facilitated the potential adopter's Yay or Nay. 

But I can't come away unbiased.  I think she'll be happy there.  It was a big day for her.  She got out of boarding, and it wasn't for an adoption fair: it was for something even more important--being introduced to her potential family.  And she didn't even realize how big a moment it was.

It all started with a simple walk.  Just me saying, "Yes."  "Yes, I'll go for a walk."  "Yes, I'll take her for the day."  "Yes, I'll keep her overnight."  And now, if everything checks out (which I can't imagine it won't), this little girl who's been in boarding for six months will finally have a couch of her own, a person (actually two!) to protect and love, and a chill canine friend to hang with for the rest of her life.

And all because I said "Yes" to a going for a walk.  Imagine all the possibilities if every single one of us just said "Yes" to one simple thing every day.

And with that thought, I must awaken my snoring canine friend who is sleeping with her head dangling off the couch.   I really doubt she's going to say "Yes" to getting up.

The Girls are Back in Town

I suspect the Penny Foundation thinks I'm a jinx.  First there was Mickey, the sweetheart lab/pit bull who took over a month to get a home.  Then there was Murphy who, sweet as he can be if he likes you, can't seem to find someone he likes enough to finally get a home.

And now it's the three amigos.

The one named Charmaine has been renamed Baja (much better), and is currently enjoying the good life in a foster home in Beverly Hills.  Not bad for a whiney runt from Mexico.

As for Loki and Shia, their journey was a bit more troubled (karma, perhaps for beating up the little one?).  They were also enjoying Beverly Hills for a few days and then were headed back up to the pet store to sit in the window, play all day, and get adopted.  However, within a few hours of being there, it was suspected they were sick.  They were rushed to the vet where no signs of sickness were present, and ended up in boarding there until Saturday morning.

Eric, who had kindly taken in Mickey after I no longer could, was once again willing to tag in and take these two pups off my hands too, but not until Sunday afternoon.  So, Christy asked if I could take them Friday night.  I was working and no one could transport them before the vet closed, so at 9am Saturday morning before work, I picked up the little tykes.

I have to give many thanks to my co-worker who, learning that I meant to take on these pups for a couple of days, allowed me to borrow her x-pen so the pups could play safely while I worked as well as a wire crate so I could transport them safely while seeing out my side mirrors.

And the biggest gift of all from her: many many peepads.

To begin, let's get the names straight:  I had named the black and tan Loki and the beige one Shia.  This was before we received the paperwork with their names or someone else re-named them.  Friday, I was told their names were Lucy and Pixie respectfully (interesting how Loki and Lucy are quite similar in sound--clearly her personality indicates that sort of sounding name).  When I arrived at the vet's, they found none of the four names, but had two puppies brought in together named Stormy and Thunder.< Talk about identity crisis. I confirmed they were the dogs I was to take, but their neat little harnesses had been taken off when they arrived, and my harnesses were too big.  So, after some ridiculous maneuvering and lots of patience from both me and the girls, I got them inside the wire crate which I had lined with my ever handy towels.

Fast forward ten minutes later as I'm almost to work, and look over to see Pixie start the ever-recognizable motion of "I'm going to hurl."  Seconds later, she pukes.  I tell her it's okay, but since she's inside a locked crate, I can't get at her or the puke.  Oh, but Loki can.

So for the next three minutes, I'm driving while poking my figures through the cage trying to get Loki to stop eating her sister's puke and trying to convey to Pixie that it's okay that she puked and we'll be stopping soon.

Delightful.  Did I mention it's not even 9:30am yet?

I must convey my thanks to the security guard who let me park illegally near my office while I hauled up the doggie playpen, baby gate, food, toys, etc. and left the pups in the car briefly.  They made it upstairs on my second trip and I was happy to learn I'd have the entire office to myself for a couple of hours before anyone else got in for the day.

And when the boys did come in, they each had their own play time with the pups, even though Loki and Pixie need their nails trimmed and don't get that people aren't as rugged as they are and don't appreciate being bitten.

And these two are pretty rugged girls.  They still go head to head and match each other well, although I noticed Pixie's new name also brought with her some new confidence as she took on Loki.  (I just couldn't call her Lucy--I tried, but she's still Loki to me).

Peepads smell.  Puppy pee smells.  As does dog poop.  It's hard to get these dogs to go outside to pee and poop since they give so little warning.  It takes a few minutes to get out down the hall, in the elevator, and out the front door.  So I spent most of my day putting peepads and crapbags (I don't know if that's an official word, but I'm using it) into plastic bags in an effort to keep the room smelling better.

But I'm sure you don't want to hear about that.  You're here for the puppy pictures.  So here they are:

At the end of my day, I left the playpen for my co-worker and had another co-worker of mine help me haul my stuff and the pups down to the parking garage.  Leaving work was far easier than arriving.

I had finally opted to use my giant harnesses for the girls since the collars Christy had given me weren't working well.  But taking two puppies for a walk is just as un-protective as trying to get three to do what you want.  There was no peeing or pooping; just exploring and putting everything in their mouths.  My friend told me her child has reached the point where she's mobile now; which means you can't look away for even a second and spend most of your time taking something inedible and inappropriate out of the child's mouth: grass, twig, carpet, etc.  It's the same with puppies.

So once we got inside, lo and behold, they stopped and peed on the carpet.

This is why puppies are cute.  So we don't get upset when they don't understand that peeing isn't appropriate everywhere.

After an evening of much play and snuggles, I put them back into their crate and put them in my bedroom while I got ready for bed.  Baja had been the whiney one, so I was surprised when these two howled for my return from down the hall.  I returned to see that although a part of them wanted me to return, their biggest problem was the dog outside the cage.  Loki stared and curled her lip and let out some playbarks to this intruder:

It's a testament to the artistry that Loki thought this was a real dog.

Perhaps being able to see out the wire crate wasn't a good idea.  So, I put together the giant airline crate thinking this would help them sleep and they'd stop crying.  And they had; once I had finished making the crate, the two were asleep in the wire crate.  I moved them over (my time was not going to be wasted), and went to bed.  Thirty seconds later, I turned the light back on to find they had discovered the corners of the towels and were eating them.  I didn't want to wake up to find one of them had choked to death, so I took out all extraneous towels, laid back the towel so no corners were evident and put them back in.

My reward:  six hours of sleep.

At 6am, I was awoken and decided that since I had the harnesses, I'd give them a chance to pee outside.  However, the two of them together wasn't going to get the job done.  I took Pixie out first, and just as she ran to the corner of the yard to pee, Loki let out baleful barks, entreating me to come back--and waking up my neighbors.

I bustled back, got Loki out, put her on a leash, and rather than risk having Pixie bark while I took Loki out, I carried Pixie while Loki was supposed to be finding a place to pee.  It took her longer, as she's easily distracted--especially by the fact that I was carrying her sister and not her.

Five long minutes later, we were back inside for some play time.

Play, nap, and I put them back to bed for another two hours.  As much as I enjoyed snoozing on the couch with them, sleeping in my own bed is nice for longer stays of slumber.

Yes, puppies are a hassle and I'm not about to get one for myself any time soon,but sometimes moments like these make up for it all. I mean, for me, this is a fabulous way to spend a Sunday morning:

I didn't have to clean up as much pee and poo today, and I got to watch them play and run as well as have some cuddle time.

Loki already has some interested parties, so she might be adopted by this coming weekend.  As for Pixie, she's not getting as many hits, but I'm hoping she will soon.  If you know someone interested in the LA area, please send them the girls' links:

Lucy (a.k.a. Loki):  http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/16439045

Pixie:  http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/16438935

Baja:  http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/16438961

They'll be here for one week only.  Snatch 'em up, or they'll be headed to our neighbor to the north where they'll forever be Canadian citizens.

And finally, your puppy fix for the week:

And if you want some live-action footage, I posted some videos to youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tG7a9r1yryo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9uKQvWwvDE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfkFT0SZgmo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxqj_3KZqmg

Good luck girls--may you find home in whatever country you are in.

Three Dog Night

I've been missing my transient canine companions as of late and when I looked back at this blog, I was shocked to see I had gone a whole seven weeks without the love of a homeless dog. On Wednesday afternoon I turned to my boss with a pout and said, "I want a dog this weekend."

Ask and ye shall receive.

Tenfold.

I had told Christy I would help out at an adoption fair this morning in Kenneth Village (wicked nice section of Glendale), so I already had plans to get some dog time in.  But then Christy emailed me on Thursday and asked if I would be available to pick up three puppies from LAX Friday at 3:15 and then keep them overnight them until the adoption fair.

I had to turn down acting as airport shuttle driver due to being at work, but I said yes to the overnight.  I would have been happy with one.  I could handle two if need be.  But three?  That's how much of a canine addict I am: I said yes to the challenge.

Two are easy because they can entertain themselves, and if there's an altercation, you need just separate one (usually by simply picking her up).  But a third dog adds an exponential level of challenge.  While picking up one pile of poo, you not only have to catch the other one peeing elsewhere, but also watch the third one eating fuzz off the carpet.

The three dogs from Mexico who were on their way to Canada had no names when I met them.  Over the course of the night, I made up ones because yelling "Hey!" to them all seemed even more ineffective.  This one I named Shia:

There's no reason for it really; she just seemed like a Shia.  She could easily play alone, or get into the fray with the other two, and didn't need or want to cuddle.  She was content to sleep in the crease between the couch seats, and was no trouble at all.

Which was unlike the black and tan one, who I was told was a boy, and acted as such.  But alas, it turns out she's just one tough female bundle of mischievousness.  When the three piled out of the crate, she was the first one on my lap, her long tail swishing the air in a gangly ungraceful way, her Bassett hound feet padding across me.  I adored her.  I christened her Loki when I thought she was a boy, and I think it still works even though she's a girl.  And, of all three, she responds most often to her name. (Or perhaps she just figured out my tone of voice was 99% directed at her to stop whatever nuttiness she was into at that time).

Loki's main source of entertainment was to beat the crap out of the runt, the little girl I didn't come up with a name for until she left:  Charmaine. 

Loki enjoyed the play--with either one of the other two.  Shia and Loki were well-matched; sometimes one would win the wrestle, sometimes the other.  But with little Charmaine, Shia and Loki would gang up, sometimes cornering her and be so rough with her that she would whine and nip.  I could tell Loki and Shia were playing, but Charmaine didn't like the game.  And yet, even after being flipped over onto her back and her leg gnawed on, she would try a surprise attack on Loki, only to be toppled once more.

I can watch puppies play all day, as can many people.  Hence why those puppy-cams are so popular on the internet.  It's far more entertaining than any show on television.  As much as I wanted to step in to help Charmaine, I knew she was learning how to play, learning bite inhibition, and that maybe, just maybe, this would toughen her up.  I hated to see them gang up on her, and it made me a little less loving toward Loki, but play is how we learn.  Charmaine had to learn to stand up for herself.  She wasn't in physical danger; I could tell Shia and Loki knew when to stop, but when Charmaine's lip curled and she backed up against the wall, I knew they had gone too far.

And of course all this play makes for a desperate need of naptime.  So, one hour of chaos, then two of rest.  Not a bad schedule.

I really did think Loki was a boy, not just because I was told so, but because she was independent, a bully, and kept to herself during sleep time.  Shia just got cranky when she was sleepy and growled at Charmaine if Charmaine wanted to be near Shia while she slept.  Shia discovered the comfort of the couch first, and Charmaine followed.  They didn't need or want to be on my lap; they just wanted my couch.

Loki was on the floor, half asleep and half-playing with the empty paper towel roll I had given her (make enough pee for a human to clean up, you get a free toy: the empty paper towel roll).  I sat on the couch with two puppies next to me and one on the floor.  All this and no dog on my lap.  When puppies sleep, they sleep.  Gone from this world.  So I reached down, picked up Loki and got my much-needed canine cuddle time.

By 11pm, I thought we should all be heading to bed.  One by one, I placed the pups back into the giant airline crate (they weren't leaving the couch on their own accord). 

They were still sleeping when I pushed the crate into my bedroom and went to bed.

I didn't sleep well; not because of crying and whining, but from just hearing the sounds of them inside the crate, moving about.  At 5am, almost on the dot, the rustling became more urgent and was accompanied by a few grumbles and whines.  I turned on the light to see all three of them lined up at the front of the crate.

It had been six hours, so I suspected perhaps they did need to pee.  Christy had left one slip-lead for me to use, and I didn’t have any collars or leashes small enough for them, so I pushed the airline crate back to the living room, and attempted to grab one puppy at a time to take them outside.  Little Charmaine was the one I got.  I put on the slip-lead and stepped out of the apartment to see if she'd pee outside.

Of course not.  She was more interested in understanding this piece of line wrapped around her neck and attached to me.  Perhaps it was a toy.  Or an annoyance.  Either way, this took precedent over urinating.  So about twenty seconds later, I stepped back into the apartment, put her down, and she peed on the Pee Pad.  I was actually excited.

Seeing no point in trying the same technique with the other two, I let them out and hoped they would be drawn to the Pee Pad and where Charmaine already went.

That was a silly idea.

5am and I'm half into another roll of paper towels.  The thing about puppies is that by the time you grab them and put them on the Puppy Pad to pee in the right spot, they're already done going.

While I got a bit of food ready for them, Loki took a dump in the living room.  Charmaine used the Puppy Pad for her defecation.  And Shia didn't seem to have to go, but instead was finding miniscule pieces of things in the carpet to eat.

I understood how Loki became the big dog and Charmaine the tiniest.  Loki ate the fastest, and therefore got the most.  Charmaine got the least amount of food because while she was still on her fourth piece of kibble, Loki dove in to scoop up ten more of her pieces.  (All of this is terribly unladylike, hence the continuation of belief in Loki being a boy).

After the food all disappeared, it was time for play again.  I felt like a babysitter.  When I have one dog at a time, I play with them, cuddle with them and feel the need to keep them entertained.  But with three dogs together, they did their own thing, and I was merely the moderator.  Forty-five minutes later, all three were back to the couch snoozing.  I then placed them one by one back into the crate and went back to bed.

I thought I'd get a good hour or two out of this, but I was wrong.  Forty-five minutes later the little whines began.  Then the sound of a nose being pushed between the bars of the crate's door.  It wasn't yet light out, so I could only see their shadows, and occasionally turned to them to tell them to stop it.  Meanwhile, a little part of me hoped to get a bit of revenge on my upstairs' neighbor with the dog she claims to be "dog-sitting", but who is still here after three months.  When a dog is whining or barking in your own apartment it doesn't sound so loud...but when it's not your dog and it's 6am, it's kind of annoying.

By the time the puppies fell back to sleep, it was time to actually get ready for the day.  Christy and Craig had dropped off the dogs to me last night, so this morning I had to figure out how to get the crate out to my truck and how it was going to fit inside.

It was luck that they had given me the biggest crate that could possibly fit in my truck by putting the front seat down.  The three kids whined the whole way to the fair, but they were fine.

At the adoption fair, which was a whole street fair/farmer's market, the Mexican pups got the front window of the pet store.  The store had gone humane: meaning that rather than selling dogs from puppy mills, the dogs in their windows are from rescues and shelters.  The three of them romped and played on the glassed-off stage as passer-bys stopped to watch.  Christy's mom was Charmaine's advocate and brought her out when things looked to be getting rough in there for her.  And Charmaine was quite pleased with the situation.

Shia and Loki played and slept and it seemed every time I walked away for a bit I returned to see that they had more toys in there.  When Charmaine was returned to the window, Craig let Shia be on his lap and I went in to get Loki.

Loki lasted on my lap for only a little while, and then felt like sitting between Craig and me on the bench...then half on Craig...then half on top of Shia (who crankily snapped ay Loki, startling Craig).  Shia compromised by allowing Loki's butt to touch hers, and Loki draped herself across Craig's arm, looking far less comfortable than being on someone's lap.

Four hours after the adoption fair began Christy was supposed to bring the three pups to their foster home in Beverly Hills for the rest of the weekend, but another one of the puppies at the fair had a potential forever home and Christy needed to do a home check.  I didn't feel comfortable bringing the puppies to the foster home; it was one thing to drive a few blocks with the crate in the front seat; but a forty minute drive without being able to use my passenger-side mirror seemed dangerous.

So I offered to take them back to my place for an hour or two while Christy did what she needed to do.

The three amigas returned to my place and I let them out once more to play and eat and pee all over my living room.  Charmaine really is a whiner.  Not having a proper baby gate or x-pen, I used two wire shelves to block off the kitchen from the puppies.  Charmaine bounced against them and they came tumbling down twice.  The first time she shrieked briefly from being startled and then Loki came trotting over to explore.  The second time it fell, Charmaine took it hard.  I didn't think it fell any harder, faster, or on her more than before but this time she began her shrieking and just wouldn't stop. I picked her up and checked out her leg, thinking maybe it hit her foot since she seemed to be favoring it, but the shrieking was out of control.

The last time I heard such shrieking was from the little dog that got attacked at the dog park when I was there with Skippy.  In the end that dog was just fine, and I hoped the same was true for Charmaine.  The shrieking finally dissolved into whines, but it was a long enough period of time for Shia to make her way into the kitchen along with Loki to use the distraction to explore further and try to hide from me.

Two is manageable; three is a challenge.

And of course by the time Craig and Christy came to retrieve the three sisters, they were zonked out again.  Half hour of chaos; an hour of sleep.  Such is the puppies' life.

Good luck my little Mexican friends.  Hope you had fun while you were here, and I hope you all get loving homes soon, either here or in Canada.  I think it was a pretty eventful first day in America for you.  Glad I got to be a part of it.

And I hope to have more dog adventures soon.  Helping dogs isn't really a selfless act for me.  I love it.  I love spending time with them.  They make me happy.  Yes, they make me happy even if they pee and poo everywhere, tear apart my toys, wake me up whining at 5am, and have smelly farts they blame on me.

I was just telling someone at work that pictures of children and babies don't do anything for me--unless I know the kids in which case I can see the cuteness factor.  But I don't feel the need to goo-goo and gaa-gaa over every picture of a human under the age of seven.  Now a dog--a 10 week old or a 10 year old: I clamor over office furniture to get to the picture and knock people over to see the real thing when I hear there's a dog in the office.

If you're like me when it comes to dogs, here's some puppy cuteness to hold you over until my next adventure.: