Another Cancer Dog!

This is a very bad month, but I guess we need "bad" sometimes to put the "good" in perspective. For example, I've been stressed out with Happy Tails Books because I switched our shopping cart to Amazon.com, which means people have to sign in to Amazon to check out now, and I have no idea if people don't make it through the process (with our old cart I did know). On the upside, the fees are much lower so I can donate more. Any ideas? What do you think about checking out with Amazon?

Anyway, all of these stresses pale in comparison to the fact that my latest four-hour foster (I was really just holding her for the day) needs to have her leg removed on Tuesday. I've never actually seen a bad mast cell tumor in person before, and I'd hoped I never would. Unfortunately, little Daisy was dumped at the Boulder Humane Society with a huge tumor. There's not much else to do but remove her leg because it's malignant.



I hear it hasn't spread to her lungs yet, and I hope that by removing her leg they can save her from future cancer trouble. She's a really sweet nine-year-old who is a little "too interested" in cats. (That what her paperwork said and it's so true! She bit my cat and made him throw up! He's fine but it was gross.) Please keep Daisy in your thoughts along with Zoye, who is with a great family now, but I still haven't heard the results from her cancer biopsy.

It's been a rough month but we're almost out of it. The Boxer book is about ready for pre-sale, and the German Shepherd book is well on its way. I'm looking forward to receiving stories for our next books which are maybe going to be about Pugs and cats. Yup... February is going to be much better.

Hoppi Poppi

The scene is replaying in my head over and over - it's kind of comical but at the same time sad. My new foster, Poppi, is running through my house (away from people), making a high-pitched moaning-crying noise. This went on for about 24 hours every time someone new would walk into the room. He was just plain terrified.

I'm not really sure why - the people who had been watching him for the past month seemed to like him. Although, I must admit, they also seemed a bit strange. In his short, 1.5 year life, Poppi had already seen three owners. First it was some guy with good intentions (maybe?). Poppi and his brother seem pretty well adjusted once they get to know you, so I'll give the guy a B- for dog rearing. That is, until he went to jail. Then Poppi and his brother went off to mom's house for 5 months. She couldn't potty train Poppi and so she dumped the two dogs on her son, who was married with a four-year-old, two dogs, and two cats of his own. That makes for a whole lot of lives in a little apartment.

So now we get to the reason why I said the brother is weird. I rolled up to our rendezvous point and the brother and his wife were already there waiting. The wife hopped out and opened the hatch of the car to give me Poppi...but Poppi wasn't there! Somehow they hadn't noticed that Poppi was already out of the car and running around the gas station. Weird thing #1.

Then I began asking questions. I didn't think they were very difficult questions for people who had a dog for a month (plus two permanent dogs of their own). They were questions like, "How many times a day does Poppi go poopie?" (Isn't it funny how "poopie" become a completely acceptable term after having dogs or kids?) Their answers always came back to: "We don't really know. We've only had him for a month." Weird thing #2.

Okay, folks. The "We don't really know" answer might fly if you had him for two days, but a month? Plus, they said he wasn't potty trained. Don't they know how much poop they're picking up off their floor? I can tell you that in the three days I had Poppi, he pooped five times and I picked it up off my floor twice (hooray for three poops outdoors!). How could they be so out of touch?

My interaction with the people who were surrendering Poppi was baffling and so I wasn't sure what I should really believe about Poppi. They said he was fine in the car, and so I didn't bring a crate, which was probably a mistake. He IS fine in the car, but on his first trip with me he was very nervous. I have a sedan and he kept jumping into the back window like a cat. At one time he even jumped from the passenger seat to the back seat via the "over the headrest" path (he could have just gone around - much easier?)

At home he wanted nothing to do with us, but I can't blame him. I immediately bathed him and then strapped on a belly band so he wouldn't pee in the house. I wouldn't like me very much either after that! However, the next day he warmed up and it turned out he was a very sweet dog.



Our rescue had a repeat adoptor in WY whose dog had just died from heart complications, so Poppi was to go live with them. My husband and I were getting ready to fly him up to his new home when I discovered a lump between his ribs and hip on is right rear quarter. Not knowing what to think of the squishy marble, I decided to postpone Poppi's trip until I could determine the cause. It took a day, but the vet got back to me and assured me that Poppi's lump was a reaction to his rabies shot. How strange! I didn't know they gave rabies shots back there, but the good news was that Poppi could go to his new home.

We'll miss Poppi's big brindle smile, but we had to make room for the next dog. Who will it be? Some rookie fosters in our area just received their first puppy mill breeders, so I'm guessing I'll be seeing one of their fosters soon (it's a lot harder to foster puppy mill breeders than many people think). For now, it's just Bill and me. We celebrated the day by hiking our favorite trail. I KNOW Bill's smile isn't just because he's panting. His skippy little steps combined with a toothy grin have me convinced that he's having more fun than anyone else on the trail.

If My Dog Were a Writer...

As you may know, I just got finished editing a book about Boston Terriers, and am now working on a book about Golden Retrievers. The differences in the author submissions are striking, and quite comical! Is it the dog the resembles the owner, or the other way around?

Boston Terriers are known for their crazy enthusiasm. When I think of a Boston Terrier, I think of a smiling little dog, hopping around all over the place, frantically looking for a ball. I don't know as much about Golden Retrievers, but when I think of them, I think of the dog that sits in front of their owner, patiently waiting for the ball to be thrown. This is a case of two types of dogs, looking for the same thing, but going about it in very different ways.

Editing stories from the two types of owners has largely been a similar experience! Boston Terrier owners, as a whole, submitted stories with an abundance of exclamation points and some questionable punctuation/capitalization. Golden retriever owners, in general, submitted very clean looking paragraphs with the standard punctuation you would expect from a grammar class. Both sharing loving stories about their dogs, but going about it in very different ways!

This has all been very fun - I'm not only learning about the different traits common in dogs but I'm learning about similarities in dog owners! For my part, I must admit, my writing does not usually overflow with exclamation points but it's only because I was drilled for it in marketing school. The Boston Terrier in me always has her trigger finger ready for the Ctrl+1 !!!!!!!!!

The First Post

I feel compelled to blog about my dog Bill because he is a perfect example of what time and love can do for a dog who was previously neglected. In an effort not to repeat myself, please learn about his history on our "about" page as he was the inspiration for the Happy Tails Books project.

In short, he was a puppy mill breeder for the first two years of his life. He was put out to auction and taken in by Mid America Boston Terrier Rescue. After a failed adoption and some time spent hiding in the woods, Bill became my dog (long story). When I got him he was in a very bad psychological state as he would not get out of bed. For weeks he simply cowered in his corner.

He was so afraid of the outdoors that we had to carry him outside to potty each time and then he would B-line for the house as soon as he was finished. With the help of a trainer he slowly began to turn around. Today (8 months later) he is still kind of weird in the house but has gone to the completely other side outdoors. I think he believes he is a goat though I don't know if he ever met one.

This blog will document Bill's progress and adventures. These days he bravely runs up every rock he can find, happily rolls around in poop (lovely for me) and gets a daily dose of vegetables grazing in the meadows. He's a dog park local, distraction for neighborhood dog training groups and Golden Retriever cheerleader at the lake.