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Precious Cargo: The Never Ending Story

Precious Cargo: The Journey Continues (accessible via the button below) is the chronicle of rescue tales--transporting, fostering, and volunteering in rescues as a single, dogless freelance woman in Los Angeles.

This is the ongoing saga involving rescue of that same single woman, older, hopefully wiser, and definitely more interesting with her canine partner by her side.

Precious cargo: the ORIGINAL BLOG

Let the Games Begin....

1/2/2015

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People often ask, “How can you foster? Don’t you want to keep them all?” They believe I’m emotionally stunted for not loving every canine that crosses my path. But it’s not that I don’t love them all; it’s just that I don’t fall in love with them all. I have a lot of guy friends—always have. Admittedly, some were ones I had wanted to date at one time or another but either they weren’t interested or the desire slowly fell away as I got to know them better. But the bulk of the guys have always been just friends--no romantic expectations whatsoever. On the rare occasions of me being with someone, I never gave up those guy friends just because I fell in love.

That’s how I look at fostering. A foster dog is just a friend of mine who is looking to find his special someone. I love Tucker; he is my happiness, my joy, my everything. But this summer, I began missing those foster-friends, just as I’d miss my guy friends if I only spent all my time with a boyfriend. Tucker and I found love with each other; it was time we helped other canines find that same connection.

It used to be that within 24 hours of unemployment, I had a foster dog. The need is great, and since I had been dogless, I could take any dog. They didn’t have to like other dogs, they could have separation anxiety, they could be skittish and fearful. Now that I have a rescue partner, any potential foster has to get along with him as well.

After over a year, on the final day of 2014, Tucker and I finally got our first canine houseguest, our very first foster-friend.
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Hayden is an older gentleman, older by his neglect than by chronological years. When Shelley pulled him from East Valley, she learned that this wasn’t this kid’s first time in the slammer. He did his first stint in 2007 when he had gotten out of his yard. His family came, paid his bail, and he continued to live an unknown life until a few weeks ago when he ended back up in jail for once more getting out of his yard. This time, his family didn’t want him back.

For Hayden’s eight years of neglect, he still is a puppy at heart. He has large skin tags on his ribs, his elbows have calluses from lying on concrete for years, the tips of ears are destroyed from fly strikes, and his mouth is lacking all his original teeth. But when Tucker asked him to play, he was all in.
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The two frollicked and rolled and wrestled in the yard. And when Hayden was worn out, he let Tucker know, and Tucker backed off--a bit. It seemed like a good fit. I had wished for a younger, more active foster for Tucker, but Hayden seemed playful enough and it would be good for Tucker to learn to just chill out with a friend.
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And so, rather than spend New Years Eve at some schwanky party all dolled up, or at a house party drinking and hanging with friends, I chaperoned the boys on their first evening together.

There was much play,
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And much love.
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I kinda felt like a third wheel.
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I watched and chaperoned and refereed. And I tried to think of a name for this gentleman. The shelter named him Beto. Shelley called him Duke. My first instinct was Ramsey, and attempted to go with that. This morning, two days in, I knew Ramsey wasn’t it either, but perhaps Rocco.

The sad fact was that this dog knew “Come,” “Come ‘ere,” and “Hey.” That’s right. He responded to, “Hey, come ‘ere.” When I told Christy that, the name of all names came into being: Hayden. It suits him well. A distinguished, intelligent older gentleman with a bit of a goofy side.
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It’s been some time since I’ve had to teach a dog anything. Tucker and I go to classes, but our learning is together and it’s unnecessary knowledge like tricks and agility and fun stuff. It’s been a while since I’ve had to teach a dog his name, and to sit and general in-home etiquette. 

We have a rule in our house: no yelling. That goes for me and for Tucker. He doesn’t bark and I don’t yell. So when I had to raise my voice to get Hayden to get off the kitchen counter, Tucker slid out of the room and curled up in a ball in his bed.

Tucker is a good size. He can be next to me in the kitchen while I’m cooking and his face is still three feet away from the food. But Hayden, with no boundaries and lanky German Shepherd build, is three inches from what I’m preparing. Now with less yelling and more coaxing, when it’s dinner time Hayden must be outside the kitchen (although his giant paws manage to be within the room.)
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As I walked the two of them together—something I had dreaded, as I hadn’t walked two dogs together since Husker & Riley in 2007 and they were minpins—my heart filled with pride at Tucker and the two of us. It isn’t often that I get to compare and contrast. But as Hayden sniffed and ignored my existence on the walk, and Tucker stopped each time I did and sat, awaiting a treat, how far Tucker and I have come together in the past year became abundantly clear. 

A year ago around this time, Tucker had busted through two soft-sided crates, ate a wooden stirring spoon he had extracted from the dish drying rack on the kitchen counter, consumed the bill of my favorite hat, and pissed and shit in the house. 

But love conquers all.

Tucker and I have bonded and found our rhythm; we are a team for life. He’s confident in my love for him and gets that any other dog is a guest—a foster friend that we both enjoy and love—but will never come between us.
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Hayden isn’t an easily-placeable dog. I imagine he’ll be with us until Tucker and I hit the road for a job—which hopefully is soon since I’ve been out of work for three months already. But that’s makes me even more determined to find that special someone for him quickly. Not just because he deserves to start his new life as soon as possible, but because he shouldn’t be shifted from place to place in rescue limbo.

I believe the perfect home for Hayden would be one in which someone has recently lost one of their two seniors dogs. The one left behind grieving and in need of a new friend, but no one in the family ready or willing to take on a young, spry dog at this time. Hayden still has a spring in his step and is ready to throw down if another dog is so inclined to a wrestling match, but he also wants to lie on soft, cozy bedding, gaze into a human’s eyes, and give kisses.

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If you’re interested in Hayden or know someone who might be, please check out his petfinder page (he might still be listed as Ramsey):
https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/31150513
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A Dog in Need, Regardless of Breed

12/4/2014

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There is a statistic that pit bulls have the highest intake and highest euthanasia rate in American shelters, particularly Los Angeles. While I don’t disagree that there is some truth to that, I believe the numbers might be inflated due to the high level of mis-identification. Before there were software programs that made a shelter worker pick a one breed from a drop-down menu, there were just people making guesses as to the make-up of the dog and coming up with either substantially detailed descriptions such as “Jack Russell/Rat Terrier/Yellow Lab/Pointer/Springer Spaniel Mix” or ridiculously simple descriptions like “Medium sized brown dog.”

Now they only get to choose one breed for their paperwork, and that descriptor can lead to them being adopted or being euthanized. Given that dogs have yet to figure out a way to verbally tell us their heritage, it’s still all a guessing game. I find these to be most common classifications:

1. Blocky head and stocky build - American Staffordshire (pit bull)

2. Tan color, long tail, pointy muzzle - German Shepherd (shepherd)

3. Small, short haired dog with pointed ears that shivers a lot - Chihuahua

When Christy called to ask if I could foster a three-legged pit mix, in my mind, I pictured a stocky, blocky-headed dog with a silly grin. Finding fosters is difficult; finding fosters for dogs labeled as “pit mixes” is near impossible. I don’t care what their genetics are, and I’ve always helped any breed with no criteria. However, now the wildcard of Tucker is always on the table, so I have to have one rule: she needs to get along with Tucker.

Simultaneously to Christy dialing my number, Shelley emailed me the story and a video of the little girl. She did not look like what I had expected. Lilly is small-framed white female dog with a round head, tan ears, and freckles. Okay, maybe there’s a little pit in her genes, but not much. And she didn’t have three legs—so Christy’s description was wholly inaccurate.

[Note: I did not take this video, so please forgive the incorrect orientation and black bars on the side.]
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Lilly, then named Chloe, came into the shelter with a shattered femur. Looking at the x-rays, I have no idea how this dog was up and about walking around. The pain must have been mind-numbing. 
TAPS was considering pulling her, amputating her leg, putting her into foster care while she healed, and then placing her in a forever home. I said once she healed enough to need someone to push her to learn to walk again, I would totally be up for it. Tucker is great at getting dogs up and about and playing. However, this is not a welcome trait when a dog needs bedrest.

Tucker is a boy, and a teeanage boy at that. His signature play move is hip-checking: he swings his big butt around, smashing into another dog (or person’s kneecaps... or coffee table... or dining room chair should any of those be in the line of trajectory.) When the doctor said they could save the leg and Lilly would have pins in her to stabilize her hip while she healed, I didn’t think fostering her was a good idea at all.

TAPS pulled her even without me fostering. (I’ve never known them to turn away any dog once they’ve gotten involved.) Christy agreed to foster, and so after Lilly’s surgery, she spent Thanksgiving weekend with Christy in her animal friendly house.
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It was abundantly clear that Lilly had once been in a home. She wanted to sit on the couch (not allowed); she was housebroken; she didn’t mind the cat at all; she didn’t guard her food; she liked toys. But there was one slight problem:

Christy recently lost their dog Liza after a long sickness. Holly, her other dog, is still grieving (as are the humans.) I hoped that Lilly’s presence in the house would give Holly a distraction and help heal her broken heart. But it was too soon.

The two dogs got along all right in the beginning, but Lilly tested the waters, taking a stand and claiming her crate and even a doorway to the room where her crate was.

Holly, being a sweet 13 year old dog grieving her sister, just wasn’t up for the fight. “Whatever,” was her response, and rather than just walking through the doorway, walked away.  Lilly felt powerful, and continued to growl every time Holly would try to go through that doorway or go near the crate. If Holly ignored her and pushed past, there was no altercation. But every time Holly backed down and went away, Lilly got the upperhand and her rudeness escalated.

Holly took the stance of avoidance. If Lilly was in the room, Holly was not. There was no real threat, and no dog fight would ever ensue, but Holly, quite frankly, is just too old for this shit. She’s had fosters before, and they’ve all gotten along just fine. It’s not fair for Holly to be displaced. When you foster and have your own dog, you own dog comes first. So when Christy called, I said, “Let’s give it a try right now.” 

Twenty minutes later, Lilly was in my living room, and Tucker was playbowing, swinging his butt around, and trying to flirt with the little lass.
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In person, Lilly looks nothing like a pit bull. I would have guessed Cattle Dog mixed with a Spaniel. Maybe a terrier in there, but not an American Staffordshire Terrier—more like a Jack Russell Terrier. She is super sweet, rather vocal, and seemed to like Tucker. Our main concern was that she would play with him and injure herself.

So, back to Christy’s she went.

The next night, I got another call from Christy. Lilly had hurt herself, possibly trying to escape the crate while the family was at work, and Christy needed someone to drive Lilly back to the vet. Of course I said I’d do it.

Now that I’ve switched up saddles for my trusty steed, I need to get more adept at taking photographs. The kids are a hell of a lot safer back there and I’ve made it first class comfy. I cut up an old egg crate mattress pad, doubled it up and laid it on top of the PetDek I bought that fits just right on the lowest level. It is then padded with a fleecy blanket and couple of towels. Great for long distance lounging, but terrible for taking pictures while in the driver's seat.
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Lilly is currently at the vet’s where she can be watched and kept safe until her leg is a bit more stable. But she still needs a foster home. If you have a quiet home, please consider helping Lilly out with a safe, warm place to stay while she gets on all four feet again. She’s not a pit bull. And even if she was, it doesn't matter. She’s a dog; a dog in need.
If you’re interested in fostering, please contact Christy at TAPS at [email protected].
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Too Long of a Hiatus

12/1/2014

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When I adopted Tucker, I knew it meant I had to take a break from my usual rescue work. I could transport, but I’d have Tucker on all my long haul drives, so I could only do short transports that involved leaving Tucker at home. As for fostering, no more would I be the go-to person at the 11th hour that could take in any dog under any circumstance. First off, I needed time for Tucker and me to solidify our relationship so that he wouldn’t become jealous if we shared our living space with another for a short time. Secondly, once ready to foster, it was Tucker’s—and the foster’s—choice. They had to get along. I love Tucker with all my heart. His exuberance for life and unabashed joy is one of the many reasons I love him so, but this can be overwhelming to another dog. I respect that. Perky people annoy me. My kid might be the equivalent of an always cheerful person that you just want to slap the shit of out when you’re cranky.

I wouldn’t give up Tucker for anything and I certainly do not regret adopting him. But I do miss rescue. 

In January, I turned my attention to BSL (breed specific legislation) as the neighboring town of Pasadena contemplated mandatory spay and neuter laws only for pit bull and pit bull type dogs. The witch hunt was led by one council member, but he was influential enough (or perhaps just annoying enough), that many people backed down to him.

The state of California has a law in place that no community can create legislation that is breed specific—unless it pertains to spay and neuter. I imagine this was a caveat that transpired during negotiations of this law, but it’s a giant loophole that certain towns and cities are using to their advantage.

Take for instance Riverside County: they already have a mandatory spay and neuter law across the board. But last year, they also added an ordinance requiring spay and neuter of pit bull and pit bull type dogs. Errr…. Are they not dogs?

I’m against any discrimination of people or animals, and now that I have my own little brindle boy that can’t get away with being a “boxer mix” or “lab mix”—which many pit bull owners categorize their dog to avoid breed discrimination—it hits even closer to home. 

Contributing at council meetings and writing letters and spreading awareness is all valid rescue work. But I miss that one-on-one connection. I miss giving a helping hand to just one dog at a time.

I worked a lot this year, and I don’t foster when on the job due to my ridiculous hours, but I still felt useless. I need to help animals any way I can. So in our travels, since I couldn’t transport or foster, I donated money by taking part in activities Tucker and I could attend together.

While in Georgia, Tucker and I attended Bark For Life north of the city, where Tucker took second prize for happiest dog (he couldn’t beat an 8 month old German Shepherd puppy), and we won first prize for look-alike. 
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We also did the Atlanta Dog Jog, where instead of our daily three miles being spread out throughout our day, we did the full 5k all in one morning around Piedmont Park.

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In Klamath Falls, Oregon, we attended another Bark for Life. No prizes were won, but Tucker finally met a cat up close, which he had been dying to do, only to be bitten on the muzzle by the anti-social feline. I guess his war wounds are his prize there.
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Back in Los Angeles, Tucker and I did Race for the Rescues, another 5k to raise money for various rescue groups. 
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Sans Tucker, I showed off Simon at the NKLA Super Adoption for TAPS in November.
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While Tucker and I  wait for that first foster opportunity, I’ll be filling these pages with other ways to help, networking the kids I can’t personally assist, and sharing the experiences Tucker and I have helping whoever, and however, we can.
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    How It All Began

    Precious Cargo: The Journey Home is the manuscript that sits on my desk, having been written, edited, edited again, and then fully rewritten, and not yet published. It is the tale of a 29 year old single woman traveling across the country and back again driving homeless dogs from high kill shelters to rescues, rescues to fosters, and fosters to forever homes.

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    All
    2014.12.01 Too Long Of A Hiatus
    2014.12.04 A Dog In Need Regardless Of Breed
    2015.01.02 Let The Games Begin
    2015.01.05 I'm Not Shouting
    2015.01.11 Train Your Troubles Away
    2015.11.06 Love: The Ultimate Free Pass
    2015.11.07 The Most Ridiculous Thing I'ver Ever Done For Animals
    2015.11.28 Learning Is Loving
    2024.05.11 Long Hot Foster Summer Part I
    2024.05.12 Long Host Foster Summer Part II
    2024.05.13 Long Hot Foster Summer Part III
    2024.05.18 Long Hot Foster Summer Part IV
    Love Is... Fear

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