Sandy

She was malnourished, literally “skin and bones” and with canine oral papillomas when I spotted Sandy among others dogs in the shelter. I don’t know how to upload her pictures with a “Sensitive Content” warning to prevent the public from viewing her unattractive and honestly speaking, repulsive disease. It is, however, a radical change.

Her Before-and-After state is a testimony that love transforms lives, but it wasn’t easy nor immediate. Sandy, of all dogs, has a way to show her feelings; her gaze says “Thank you” and always tries to affectionately lick my face or hand. During morning walks, she invariably stays closer to me than the others and frequently jumps to my lap.

Loving the unlovable involves seeing beyond their flaws and recognizing their inherent worth. All dogs have unique qualities; whether purebred or mixed breed, they enrich our lives and deserve our care and appreciation. My Sandy is very special.

There’s always a wild side to an innocent face

Lady

She’s an old nice Lady that I brought from the Dog Shelter.

What was her life like before? And how come such a sweet creature did not have a home?

She has adapted to me and my place as if she had lived here all her life. The only “misbehavior” is that after her daily morning walk; she gets back to the house when she comes to the conclusion by herself that she has had enough street walk.

I highly recommend adopting an elderly dog and fill his/her life with loving care.

Golfo

“Golfo” usually refers to a lazy person, someone that grew up on the streets without any supervision, a rascal, a bum! It’s offensive when referring to a person, but humorous when calling another street dog who decided to be part of my pet family.

He was announced in Facebook as a dog wandering “lost” in town. I took him with me to provide him shelter and waiting for someone to claim him, but a week passed by and no one said “it’s mine”.

I thought he might know his way back home and I was preventing him from reuniting with his family by keeping him with me; so I opened the door gate and he high-speed ran out!

A few minutes later I found Golfo sitting outside and when I opened the gate; he came back inside to stay.

Shaggy

One day Shaggy entered the school gate with the students. It has happened before that one dog follows his owner, but when inquiries were made; Shaggy did not belong to anyone. In short, we adopted him.

He needed attendance from a vet and is receiving his vaccines. He walks in a “funny” way with one of his back legs as if he’d have had a joint injury, but it does not prevent him from running after the ball when students are playing futsal.

“Second hand animals make first class pets”

He now has a big family.

Mr. Ears

Mr. Ears was the name I called him when I first met him during my morning jogtrot. He would always approached from behind and unannounced between my legs almost making me fall. It made me stop to pet him roughly on the chest and body. Sometimes he would come with me until the front door and stay with me while I rested on the steps.

One day I finally met his owner who was thinking on putting him to sleep for being so aggresive to people. I couldn’t believe it; I told her how affectionate and adoring he was with me. So she asked me if I wanted to keep “Tobby” (that was his real name) and I decided to give it a try. It would mean that he would not longer roam the streets at his will.

Mr. Ears would seek and take any opportunity to get out. I would have to employ a bait method (piece of bread, cheese, ham, etc.) to grab him and drag him back inside. He did show hostility towards people he didn’t like: drunkards or the nasty-dirty-gloomy-type of folks; other than that, he was a pleasant, cheerful, good-humored dog.

Recently, he developed cancerous tumors around his neck and his snout got swollen as if a bee or a scorpion had stung him. The vet said the medicine could had reduced the swelling, but instead acceleated the spread.

This year, in February, was the first time he surprised me by getting back to the house without being lured with food! Then I started to let him out to do his sniff walk more frequently. Was he sensing his final days were coming? I don’t know; what I do know is that we got along since the beggining and he was exceptionally a good dog till the end. He taught me that adopting a dog is deeply satisfying.

“Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really” -Agnes Turnbull

Dobby (R.I.P.)

It was June 8th of last year (2017) when I had received a call from a lady from the church to ask me if I wanted a puppy. I had just lost two old dogs and I accepted. I just found out in the veterinarian office this week that he was a mix breed of an English Foxhound.

It’s hard to believe that today I lost him.  He was one year old; in my mind people or animals don’t die at that age. I had mistakenly thought he would be my pet for the next 15 years or so. About a month ago he was coughing, took medicine, then he got a skin fungal infection, took more medicine, then he had a paw luxation, anti-inflammatory medication and today as I took him to the vet because he was looking really bad, he had an anaphylactic shock to which he didn’t survive.

My lessons:

• There is no age to die; of course I already knew that, it’s just that death continues to leaves us with consternation.
• Medicine has its doses and limitations; I also knew that, death is an excellent reminder.
• The power of repeating to oneself’s mind something like “it’s just a dog” is futile when it is your pet.
• As much as animals are not “worth” the same as people; it’s okay to feel sad and I admit it, I cried.

Mr. Ears paying his last respect.

 

Dobby’s collar and leg cast; now unnecessary

Pack Hierarchy

It was hate at first sight. They were about to kill each other. I had just moved to Mr. and Mrs. Train’s house after their passing. They had Samson, a beautiful mixed breed dog and I came along with three dogs (and two cats). Aldo was the oldest and the biggest, therefore, leader of the pack. Aldo was used to have always his way. Samson had always been solitary and his territory had now been invaded. From the moment Aldo and Samson saw each other, they had to prove who was “the boss”.

Heavy-eyed

My first attempt to stop their daily bloody combats was to sedate Aldo, but once the drowsy effect wore off, they recurred to their fiery biting which left them with torn out skin

The Vet recommended to have them “fixed” to help them deal with their male dominant behavior and said it would approximately take three months to get their strong hormones out of their system. I thought the pain of the procedure would reduce their impulse to conquer the “Alpha” Title, but as soon as they woke up from anesthesia; they got at each other again.

There were occasional fights in the past three years, but finally Aldo and Samson got to tolerate each other’s presence and even abide in harmonious companionship.

Aldo died four months ago and Samson died last week. They are buried next to each other.

The moral of the story is: What was all that fighting for? Who won? We all have our struggles in life; it has been well said to choose wisely what battles are worth fighting for. In the tomb, no one is stronger than the other.

My German Shepherd IV

When people say “you’re getting older“; I reply “And who isn’t?”. We all take this “de rigueur” path from the time we are born. It is unavoidable and undeniable. A few weeks ago I uploaded a video in Facebook of my old good dog Aldo struggling to walk. I received all kinds of responses to the video. Most people were sympathetic and felt sorry; a few looked at it with humor, the dog’s uncoordinated movements and stumbling walk made him look as if he were drunk. The reaction that most got my attention though was from those who asked me how could I dare to: 1.- Keep him alive in pain and 2.- show in public media his suffering. In Facebook we are given the choice to upload our “best” pictures to show the world. We can create our own make-believe lives: all smiles and laughter, good times and parties, good-looking and fashionable. In real life failure, sickness, suffering and death are part of the package.

Aldo is 14 human-years old; he is a senior dog and I write about his aging process thinking about me. A dog’s lifespan is faster and shorter, but I have grown older with Aldo and I am learning from him to enjoy all things: company, sunshine, other animals and above all, food. I am learning as he keeps doing simple things he used to do effortlessly and without sweat that life is worth living not matter how difficult things may turn out. And finally, to sleep, eat and poop are priceless treasures for your well-being. The day comes for all of us when we realize that little things are actually big things.

“What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”

My German Shepherd III

A week ago I thought Aldo, my mix breed German Shepherd, would not make it to his 14th birthday, but he did today. He is suffering a common ailment to his breed where he has trouble standing up, pain when trying to get up and his hip is very  weak. He has bad days, worse days, good days and better days. I have been helping him to get up and he makes my day when I find him in a different spot where I originally left him. I clap and “hooray” him, “Aldo! You did it!! Keep doing it good boy!! Keep doing it!!” and I hug him.

I know Aldo is living his final days. He is being totally spoiled by me. I love my other two dogs, but Aldo is getting a lot of privileges and benefits of the old age.

I don’t want to humanize him. Although, yes, he could be described as “my good loyal friend and companion” I simply think that Aldo is at his best when being what he is, a dog. I would not want him to be a human. I love him exactly for what he is and with all what it brings to own a dog.

One good thing about old Aldo is that he has not lost his appetite. So after a good meal, he loves to lie down in the sunshine and a walk from the back of the house to the front and backwards, it’s all what it takes to make his day.

WOOF WOOF! It’s time for a Paw-ty

My German Shepherd II

Eight years ago, I wrote a blog telling how I became owner of my German Shepherd, Aldo.  Actually, the story of how HE chose me. Many years after that post, Aldo remained the same energetic unintimidated Alpha male dog. It took me by surprise when, one night, during a walk, he almost gets run over by a car twice! I then yelled at him to stop so I could leash him, but he delightfully continued his walk. How could a dog who once was at my beck and call with just one whistle ignore my voice? Following that, I noticed he would not show up for meal time at the sound of the food plastic bag or his dish as before. I had to go looking for him and call him, only to find him sound asleep. I am now aware he lost his hearing sense and I can walk over him while sleeping without being noticed and if he fortuitously hears a noise, he has no idea what direction the sound is coming, he turns his head in all directions until he makes eye contact with me, then vigorously wags his tail as saying “Oh! it is you here”.

I calmly accepted his first signs of old age and even welcome his funny and humorous new “disobedient”, slow, lay back behaviour. I could live, with no pain,  with a dog who is no longer the most wanted eligible mate to breed, the perfect playful pet or the best guardian dog. I had aged and changed along with Aldo in these 13 years. Except that this week I noticed that our life cycles have different speed. One day he was dragging his back legs and tried to follow me two stairs up in the front porch. He stopped to contemplate and consider how feasible the task was and when he ventured to give it a try, he fell to the ground hitting his head on the stairs. He is too heavy for me to lift him up, I wanted to carry him in my arms and take him to his bed, but I couldn’t. He looked up with eyes of embarrassment; I lay down with him and hugged him tightly. I know he would have done the same if it had been I on the floor.

How soon will Aldo’s final day arrive, I don’t know. I wish with all my heart that nature will take that decision and not me. Today he is walking with difficulty, but alive. We are alive and yes, we all have our difficulties, but we also have the wonderful opportunity to love and hug those around us.

“Sometimes you will never know the true value of a Moment,

until it has become a Memory.”