Archive for September, 2012
George passed to the Rainbow Bridge today to await Brigitte and Bill. George was a dog that was meant to bring joy to every creature that he encountered. You just could not be anywhere near him without petting him. Please read the following moving tribute to George from his foster mom Brigitte. Thank you so much Brigitte and Bill.
After several weeks of ups and downs George told us early this morning with a sad face and labored breathing that he could not stay with us any longer, because he was just too sick. It broke our heart to think that the end had probably arrived. George was by far the gentlest dog I have ever met. He loved everyone and everything and he never let anyone get away without petting him and once they did he would not let them stop. George came to our house in January, he could barely walk due to his weight and he was covered in urine and feces, but under all that was an exceptionally sweet, sweet dog who would change our life forever with his kind and gentle way. We often asked him why he did not come sooner when he was younger, we would have had more time to care for him and love him. But this was not meant to be, we were very fortunate to have had him for the nine months we did.
Thank you Karen for helping him when you were his only hope, I could never repay you for the joy he brought to us. Bob, thanks for bringing him to us that January day I didn’t realize at the time how special he would become.
I’ve attached a few pictures from happier times.
Guess what was hidden inside this ‘lump’?
A cute, affectionate little spark-plug, that’s what. Halo T. was found at the Los Angeles Co shelter in Downey, in very bad shape and basically immobile. She had been neglected for a very long time, and probably had been used ruthlessly as a breeder dog. She was estimated to be 10 years old
That was a month ago, when Karen Barnes found and rescued her. Today she is a happy, alert, engaging little female who follows me everywhere, literally sticking her nose into everything I am doing, and continually suggesting ways she can help. When we roam the property, she stays with me until she figures out where we are going, then trots off to that spot to wait for me to arrive. When I do, she prances around waiting for the signal that tells her what we will do next.
Halo is petite (only about 48 lbs but should be about 55), still needs to get some hair back (my wife says she looks like Woodstock from the Peanuts cartoons, with her sparse hair sticking up from her rear end), and could stand a refresher course on obedience. When she gets her hair back, she will be an absolutely gorgeous little sable. She walks reasonably well on lead until she sees a squirrel, then hang on. She has a great recall, reinforced by her strong desire to be with her person, and will readily sit for her meals. She sleeps quietly in her crate, and will go in there during the day with the door open to take a nap. She rides well in the car. She is social with other dogs and people, and currently is living with five fur-sibs.
Now that Halo is happy and on the road to recovery, we estimate that she is between eight and nine years old. For now, she is still a Thulani Program dog, but if her progress continues, she may simply be an older German Shepherd suitable for our regular adoption program.
Halo was not my favorite dog when she arrived a month ago, but today I can’t get enough of her company. She will make someone a wonderful household companion, especially if they can spend a lot of time with her.
Kassidy (AKA Marie T.) was a gentle, fragile soul who lost her fight with cancer a few days ago. Please see the moving and tender tribute to Kassidy below, from her devoted foster mom Sharron Daniel (and foster sister Katie).
First I want to thank you for letting me be a part of Kassidy’s life, to have that chance to love her and receive the same from her in return. She was my beautiful girl. I miss her terribly and so does Katie.
As you know she started going downhill fast early last week and by Thursday she was suffering and I had to make the choice to help her cross the rainbow bridge. We had eight wonderful months together and I don’t regret one day of that time including the craters that still exist in my back lawn!
I’ll never forget the day after she came to live with me when we were off to Adobe to have them re-check her ears. She ran from the leash and tried to break back into the house as if begging “no more”. I believe in my heart that was her way of telling me this was now home and she was tired of being tossed from place to place. It took some time, but she eventually learned to love the leash knowing that instead of fear and disappointment it now meant a new adventure.
As she settled into the routine, she started making the rules. Each morning after breakfast, she would scratch at the door to go out; however out isn’t what she wanted. It was all a ruse to get me in the kitchen and then she’d start the cookie dance. She loved her treats and she was going to ensure that she and her sister got what they deserved. That became her job and she was darn good at it.
That last morning I wasn’t sure she would be here for me when I returned home. I turned to the girls, said my normal, “you be good girls, I love you and I’ll see you tonight.” It’s what I said every time I left the house without them, but I knew this time may be different, that she just might not be there waiting for my return. Kass mustered her strength to come sit on the step next to Katie in her normal everyday spot. She knew that’s what I needed, that snapshot in time for me to remember of my girls sitting and waiting for me.
I returned home that afternoon where I was fortunate to have my time to say goodbye. We sat outside together. She could no longer hear, see or smell me, but she knew I was there. At 4:00 it was time to go and for the first time she calmly laid in the back seat of the much hated car. A short time later, when I said my final goodbye, I told her she was a success. She may have started our journey as a death row dog, but she left this world in my arms and knowing she was loved, and after all, that’s what it’s all about.
I have a sign hanging in my family room. It says, “Heaven’s the place where all the dogs you’ve ever loved come to greet you.” It gives me faith that we will be together again some day. Until then, sweet girl.