Sweet boxer mix on Greek island bears scars of a harsh past

Dany

Don't you hate it when you're in the middle of trying to help a friend rescue a dog, and out of the nearly infinite number of places where a bug could fly, one chooses your mouth?

I ask you, now, is this fair? Aren't rescuers provided some sort of special protection against things like bugs in the mouth? Stubbed toes? Untied shoelaces?

Apparently not. We have to just muddle along and inhale insects, bang our toes, and trip on our shoelaces like everyone else.

By the way, today's Dozen Dog Diaries cover model is Dany. Isn't she lovely? She's skinny, has scars all over her friendly, wiggly, boxer mix body, and one eye that looks like maybe somebody slugged her.

Her rescue began this week here on the Greek island of Kefalonia.

Stay tuned for more of her story right where you are now--The Dozen Dog Diaries.

WHY NOT HIT THE 'JOIN THIS SITE' BUTTON ABOVE to get an email notification whenever there's a new post?  You'll earn our eternal woofs of gratitude!!

More on why Katerina is in Greece:

How I got stranded in an old, cold, leaky house all winter 

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Good news: Rescued dog Jorja Specklestockings is free of dreaded disease

Par-tay! I don't have Leishmaniasis!

When you care about animals you have to deal with a lot of sadness, anger, and frustration, because many if not most of them around the world are wretchedly neglected and/or mistreated, and often there’s little you can do to help them.

On the occasions when you are able to help, you cling to any little piece of good news about them that comes along.

This week we got a much-treasured, huge piece of good news.

Drum roll… trumpet fanfare… hurrah! Our little rescued/foster dog Jorja Specklestockings is Leishmaniasis-free!

Dear readers, for those of you lucky enough to have no clue what Leishmaniasis is, lemme tell ya, the word “disease” ain't bad enough to describe it. This illness is demonic. If you ask me, it might as well be the devil in disguise. 

Agapi, a Greek street dog who suffered horribly with Leishmaniasis until rescue and treatment

Dogs contract it when they are bitten by a sand fly (of a certain species) that has previously bitten another dog who has the disease. From the infected dog’s blood, the sand fly picks up the parasite that causes the disease. Then the insect deposits the parasite in the new dog’s blood. Leishmaniasis can also be transmitted from mother to puppy.

Though some dogs can go asymptomatic for years, showing no sign at all, many dogs become extremely ill.  Symptoms include a whole smorgasbord of ailments ranging from skin lesions to organ failure.

These days I am also fostering Agapi, who suffered from a raging case of Leishmaniasis when friend Melissa Beamish and I first spotted him in the middle of the road in a Greek hillside village one moonlit night—bleeding from his eyes.  I had never seen anything like it. I hope I never do again. But given the prevalence of Leishmaniasis in this country, I probably will.

Agapi has now undergone heavy-duty treatment for Leishmaniasis—a month’s course of a powerful chemotherapy drug, Milteforan. He will also be on another drug, Xylapour, for life. He is doing very well. The gruesome lesions that used to plague his eyes and legs are nearly gone. But the parasite is pernicious, and sometimes manages to “hide” somewhere in the tissues. So it might always lurk in his body—dormant, we hope, but still there.

After taking the course of meds. Agapi is on the mend

Also, due to the fact that he probably endured a lot of cruelty, he is acutely fearful of many things. Thus, it’s a challenge finding a furever family for him. I’m in for the fostering long haul for this boy.

Jorja Specklestockings, though, is another matter. She’s a pretty, perky, clever, and amusing little sprite who gets along great with just about everyone of all species, would be a good fit for almost any adopter, and who—thank you O Gods of Dog Rescue—does not have that horrible disease.

Which is very fortunate, because sadly, Leishmaniasis tends to reduce the appeal of pooches looking for homes. Right or wrong, most prospective adopters would rather opt for a Leish-negative dog.

Jorja is one of the lucky ones. Many dogs here in Kefalonia, especially the homeless ones, fall prey to dreaded Leish. Somehow she dodged it. That opens up all kinds of doors for the future of this abandoned street waif who until just a couple of weeks ago would have had almost no future at all.

Now, with a little more luck, that future is looking pretty bright for this girl—just like her lively amber eyes that glow with intelligence and spirit.

More on Jorja:

Princess (slightly hairy) of Greek castle seeks new throne 

Spay Day for Princess Jorja Specklestockings (Part One) 

More on Agapi: 

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog  

A matter of hope: lab results tomorrow to determine ill street dog’s fate 

Curing a street dog of two deadly diseases might be easier than finding him a home 

Vet’s instructions for curing rescued dog’s wicked disease  

Anxiety attacks? Blame the dog 

Who’s rescuing whom? Agapi saves the day… or at least the night

More on why "chauffeur" Katerina is in Greece:

How I got stranded in an old, cold, leaky house all winter 

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Spay Day for Princess Jorja Specklestockings (Part One)

Many princesses have their spa days.

Today I, Princess Jorja Specklestockings, formerly of St. George's Castle on the Greek island of Kefalonia, had my spay day.

On the way to the vet's office I was somewhat apprehensive. I'd never been spayed before.

But Agapi, the prince who saved me from a life on the streets quite unfit for a princess, reassured me that all would be well.

After the operation, I felt sleepy and confused.

Dr. Amanda said I might not feel too well for the rest of the day, but tomorrow would be better.

She also said that I was really lucky that I got spayed, because there was a problem inside me that would have been put me in a lot of danger if I had gotten pregnant again. It probably would have killed me, she said. (I'll explain more about it tomorrow in Part Two).

See my colorful tummy in the photos? Agapi's chauffeur, who drove me to my spay day appointment (and who can be somewhat amusing when she's not being bossy and gauche), called it the "Blue Belly Badge of Courage."

When I tried to stand up I felt pretty wobbly.

The first thing I did was check out the grapefruit from Agapi's estate. He had ordered his chauffeur to pick it as a thank-you for Dr. Amanda. I don't care for grapefruit, myself, but I suppose the doctor does, and my tummy wasn't in an eating type of mood anyway, for probably the first time ever.

Next I met Dr. Amanda's kitty Bocconcino, which in Italian means "a small taste."

He definitely was not interested in letting me have a taste of him, big or small. I got swatted just for looking at him. Hmph!

Right about then I decided it was time to go home.

Agapi's chauffeur picked me up and put me in the front seat of his carriage.

Dr. Amanda came out to make sure I was comfortable and to kiss me goodbye.

About 20 minutes later, back at Agapi's palace, I was on my bed.

His chauffeur saw I was shivering. She cranked the heater up higher and covered me with a folded sheet. When she saw I was still shivering, she put two towels in the dryer to warm them up, and put those on top of me too. I liked that a lot.

Tonight I've been snoozing quite a bit, Tomorrow I'll tell you about the "time bomb" that Dr. Amanda found inside me.

My spay day has been no picnic, but it sure does beat a time bomb.

Those interested in offering a foster or permanent throne to my royal self may contact my current lady-in-waiting (Agapi's chauffeur, Katerina) via the following methods:

• Email: youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom
• Facebook message: The Dozen Dog Diaries or Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

Sincerely,

HRH Jorja Specklestockings

Princess of St. George’s Castle (currently in exile)

Island of Kefalonia

Greece

More on Jorja:

Princess (slightly hairy) of Greek castle seeks new throne  

Good news: Rescued dog Jorja Specklestockings is free of dreaded disease 

More on Agapi: 

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog  

A matter of hope: lab results tomorrow to determine ill street dog’s fate 

Curing a street dog of two deadly diseases might be easier than finding him a home 

Vet’s instructions for curing rescued dog’s wicked disease  

Anxiety attacks? Blame the dog 

Who’s rescuing whom? Agapi saves the day… or at least the night

More on why "chauffeur" Katerina is in Greece:

How I got stranded in an old, cold, leaky house all winter 

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Princess (slightly hairy) of Greek castle seeks new throne

Her Royal Highness Jorja Specklestockings

May it be known that I hereby bestow my greetings upon you, dear subjects!

I, Jorja Specklestockings, am your princess. I qualify as well as anyone—do I not?—because for a period of months I presided over the castle of Agios Giorgos, St. George, a magnificent 16th-century edifice topping a precipitous hill on the fabled Greek island of Kefalonia. 

Princess Jorja and her cat courtiers, in shadow of castle ramparts

As it so happens, my family took me there one day on an excursion but somehow forgot to take me with them when they left. I waited for them to remember and come back, but they did not. 

Villagers in the homes near the castle kindly provided me with meals. Naturally they should, me being visiting royalty. 

I drank green goopy rainwater that collected in the hole of an old stone artifact near the castle.

Drinking murky water from old stone artifact

There was no warm place to sleep during this soggy, bitter winter. Abandoned houses crumbled by the infamous earthquake of 1953 offered only a modicum of shelter. The most warmth I could garner was from the street pavement on an occasional sunny day. Not very suitable for a noble young lady such as moi.

Trying to find warmth by lying in the middle of the street

But a few nights ago... suddenly... everything changed. Under the walls of the castle, lit up all golden by a fiery sunset, a handsome prince named Agapi appeared out of nowhere and swept me off my prettily speckled paws. 

Swept off the royal paws by Prince Agapi

I fell for him immediately (you know how impulsive we redheads can be, even we well-bred princess redheads) and I think he felt quite taken with me too. It was all so storybook.

Prince meets princess

Introductions...

And further introductions

Awkward moment

First kiss... on the cheek...proper and chaste, of course

After a romantic promenade together...

Romantic royal promenade through the castle village

Church of the Evangelistria, circa 1580, with misty Mt. Aenos beyond

View of fiery sunset over the Ionian sea

Quaint village streetlamps

... and after I introduced him to my feline courtiers...

Kitty courtiers

... his chauffeur opened the door of his carriage, and Agapi jumped in. 

It seemed so warm and comfy in there, with blankets on the soft seats, that I tried to take my place next to the prince, as is my due. But the chauffeur shut the door in my face.

Astonishing! Ghastly! To slam a door on a princess!

After the chauffeur got in, I daintily placed my paws upon her window and kissed it ever so sweetly, convinced she'd relent. She didn't. How rude, to further refuse a princess! Then I put my paws on Agapi's window and kissed him goodbye through the glass. He kissed me back from the other side. My heart pounded in my beautifully speckled chest with a mixture of longing and sadness.

No room for a princess?

As they started to drive off, I became indignant. I sat right next to the departing carriage staring pointedly at the chauffeur, insisting with my commanding gaze that she stop and open the door. Just as pointedly, the chauffeur turned away.

A commanding gaze

That’s when my royal reserve crumbled. I confess that I whimpered openly. How could I help it? It’s simply wrong when people drive away and leave important personages such as myself behind. A fate completely unfit for a royal.

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Left behind... again

So I decided to follow them. If I were to just trot along behind the car, maybe I'd discover where Agapi lived, so at least I could pay him courtly visits.

I think this really bothered that cretin of a chauffeur. I could hear Agapi whining, ordering her to stop. After a couple of minutes she obeyed and pulled over.

The chauffeur got out and stood there frowning at me dourly. Then, after a nerve-racking eternity, during which I stooped to wagging my tail, grinning, and performing utterly charming play-bows (a shameful display into which no princess should be forced), the chauffeur shook her head and muttered, "I can't believe I'm going to do this.”

Finally, she opened the car door. 

I waited. It was important to demonstrate that I wasn’t really all that desperate. After an appropriate moment or two, I gracefully entered the vehicle. (All right, well, the truth is I hopped in lickety-split before she could change her outlandishly useless mind.)

Decisive moment

The chauffeur drove us to Agapi’s palace down near the sea. I rode in the front seat—proper for nobility—and Agapi politely stayed in the back. Which was very gentlemanly, because you know how some fellows, even royal ones, just want to get you in the back seat and paw at you. 

(For example I’m sure you’ve heard those fur-raising tales about a certain young British prince, who happens to be a fellow redhead.)

I was afraid to go inside the palace, because, well... you know... a girl can’t be too careful these days. So the chauffeur picked me up and carried me. The whole thing made me rather nervous, I have to admit.

But soon I found myself resting on a pile of blankets, warm for the first time in months. With a full tummy and plenty of clean water too.

Snug and warm in Prince Agapi's palace

The not-so-pleasant news is that just as I was falling asleep, the chauffeur explained to me that soon she and Agapi will leave the island, and thus we must find somewhere else for me to live. 

She said that if I issued a proclamation describing my predicament (the document you are currently reading), maybe someone could help find me suitable lodging. Perhaps there’s even a family who would like for their home to be furever graced by the presence of a lovely young princess?

This is all quite absurd. A brilliant and beautiful girl of noble blood having to beg?  Ach, the vagaries of fate.

Nevertheless, the chauffeur said to make sure to inform my subjects that I weigh 17 kilos (37 pounds), am somewhere between 12 months to 16 months of age (we ladies prefer not to reveal our exact dates of birth), possess "very nice manners," am “clever,” could probably "fit into almost any home," and that I am “uncommonly beautiful."  (I don't mean to brag—blush blush—that's just what she said. And of course every word is precisely true.)

'Uncommonly beautiful'

Also she said that she and Agapi would escort me to the doctor’s office so that I could receive all the tests and vaccinations and so forth that one requires for relocation. I’ll have an operation so that I won’t have to make puppies anymore. (I delivered some not long ago. They all passed away. It was sad and I don’t wish to discuss it further. Nor do I wish to produce any more, thank you.)

In any case, Agapi, prince that he is, has instructed his Court Treasurer to finance my future journey to a qualified palace that befits a young lady of my station.

Prince Agapi looks out for Princess Jorja's future

His chauffeur opined that as soon as you, my loyal subjects, hear about what a “sweet, pretty, perky, and smart little redhead” I am, it won’t be long before somebody realizes they can’t live without me.  (Yes it’s terribly gauche for a chauffeur to describe a princess as “perky” or “little,” but we must make allowances for our servants.)  

I do appreciate your prompt attention to this matter.

Interested parties may contact the chauffeur via the following methods:

• Email: youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom
• Facebook message: The Dozen Dog Diaries or Katerina Lorenzatos Makris

Sincerely,

HRH Jorja Specklestockings

Princess of St. George’s Castle (currently in exile)

Island of Kefalonia

Greece

More on Jorja:

Spay Day for Princess Jorja Specklestockings (Part One) 

Good news: Rescued dog Jorja Specklestockings is free of dreaded disease  

More on Agapi: 

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog  

A matter of hope: lab results tomorrow to determine ill street dog’s fate 

Curing a street dog of two deadly diseases might be easier than finding him a home 

Vet’s instructions for curing rescued dog’s wicked disease  

Anxiety attacks? Blame the dog 

Who’s rescuing whom? Agapi saves the day… or at least the night

More on why Katerina is in Greece:

How I got stranded in an old, cold, leaky house all winter 

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Who’s rescuing whom? Agapi saves the day… or at least the night

'Need my help?'

For a bunch of reasons I’m under a fair amount of stress these days, 8,000 miles away from my husband, my dogs, and my “real” life in California, so it’s not surprising that one side effect might be nightmares during which I scream out loud.

What did surprise me, though, last night, was that my recently rescued, now foster pooch Agapi, whose care and uncertain future are two of the chief reasons for my stress, and for whom existence itself was more or less a living nightmare until a couple of months ago, and who is still frightened of many if not most things—it was a giant surprise that this dog gulped down all his own fears to come to my rescue.

When I say fears, here’s an example. After leaving his harsh life on the streets of one Greek village to come live with me in a different Greek village, Agapi needed hours of just hanging around near the car, with me liberally doling out cookies and belting out show tunes like “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'” (you’d think the torment of hearing my singing voice would have motivated him to comply sooner) before finally overcoming his trembling terror enough yesterday to jump into the backseat. Of course he just wanted to jump right back out again, but still, quite a milestone. 

'Is this car thing absolutely necessary?'

My nightmare was silly. I think it involved wild, voracious rats swarming the kitchen, which thank all the house restoration gods is one thing that has not yet happened at our decrepit old place here on the island of Kefalonia. (I love rats but if they’re going to be in the kitchen would prefer them to be domesticated, well-fed, and in smaller numbers.) 

Silly though the nightmare may have been, my reaction to it was rather serious, with a lot of hollering at the top of my lungs.  

Logically, you’d expect many animals, especially severely traumatized ones, to run the other way. But while waking from the bad dream, I heard commotion and clatter, and opened my eyes to find someone standing over me. A large, furry, and worried someone.

My shrieks had apparently inspired Agapi to fly off his bed a few feet away from the sofa where I’ve been sleeping lately, and leap with all fours up onto the coffee table next to me. The living room is a mess and there was too much junk around for him to quickly find a floor route, so he had taken that shortcut to get to my side as fast as he could.

Scene of a rescue

Through the dim dawn light I saw him above me blinking in surprise, but with every muscle in his body tensed and ready for action.

Those eyes seemed to be asking, “Hey, what happened? Need help?  Is there somebody I should bite?”

He looked even more puzzled when I laughed, sat up, and hugged him. “My hero!” I cooed over and over.

In the confusion, one of his hind paws slipped off the coffee table, so I had to reach out and stabilize it to keep him from falling.

He took advantage of the situation to wash my neck and an ear, something dogs tend to do when they want to reassure themselves and their pack mates.

That’s what this animal rescue thing is about, I realized. It’s not just me rescuing and reassuring him all the time. We’re taking turns.

'Do you think you can pipe down with the nightmares now so I can get some shut-eye?'

More on why I'm in Greece:

How I got stranded in an old, cold, leaky house all winter 

More on Agapi:

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog  

A matter of hope: lab results tomorrow to determine ill street dog’s fate 

Curing a street dog of two deadly diseases might be easier than finding him a home 

Vet’s instructions for curing rescued dog’s wicked disease 

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Anxiety attacks? Blame the dog

Our girl Kisses  (Photo courtesy The Saint)

When you’re a writer, you try to look at any misfortune in your life as a type of blessing, because once you know how it feels to go through whatever it is, you can write about it with more authenticity.

The operative word there is try. Succeeding at viewing misfortune as a blessing is quite another matter. Right now I’m failing at it. There are some things I’d just really rather not go through, no matter how great a blessing they may be in disguise.

As one example, let’s take anxiety attacks. Definitely not on the list of things about which I’d say, “Sure! Lemme go through some of those so I can see how they feel then write about them with more authenticity. Yeah!”

To tell you the truth, being blessed with nerves more or less of steel, or at least pretty solid aluminum, I never understood the whole anxiety attack thing. I even thought they sounded silly. When friends cried on my shoulder about being plagued by this ailment, I was sympathetic and genuinely felt awful for them, but on the inside, I admit I was secretly rolling my eyes. “Oh, for criminy’s sake, grow up already,” it was tempting to instruct. “Don’t let life get the better of you. Chin up and forge ahead.”

In my heart, I was mean. I was judgmental. And boy, was I was stupid.

Blame it on a dog

As usual, there’s a dog to blame for this life lesson. She’s one of our large herd of rescued ex-street pooches at home with The Saint (hubsy) in San Diego. Her name is Kisses. I can’t even type it without crying. Last week a veterinarian said she might have only a year or less.

Even if she didn’t have an elevated calcium level, and even if that wasn’t possibly indicative of a tumor somewhere in her body, at her age, which is 12 or more, you can’t expect a long future.

Our boy Diogenes (Photo courtesy The Saint)

In addition to her there’s Diogenes, another senior, and none of the rest of our brood are young anymore either.

They’re in California. I’m in Greece. Between us lie 8,000 miles, and at the very least another month.

The freight train

While The Saint explained via Skype the results of all the vet’s tests on Kisses, including blood work, ultrasound, and x-rays, I listened calmly, rationally, thinking of important questions we should ask, and remembering to thank The Saint for taking such excellent care of everybody during my ridiculously extended absence.

Of course I had a good cry after we hung up—a normal, healthy response. Then I had to pull my chin up and forge ahead with feeding/medicating/walking Agapi, the ill street dog I rescued in September. That’s also a normal and healthy response.

It wasn’t until I’d come back inside and was innocently washing a pot that the first one hit. Like a freight train. No, let me rephrase that: slammed like a freight train, right into my chest.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Felt I was locked inside a box with several tons weighing down on me. Sweaty and freezing at the same time. Like I needed to scream and cry for about the next twenty years, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

The best tranquilizer

In the week since we got the news about Kisses, the freight train has slammed through here about a dozen more times. I want it to stop. Toward that end there are relaxation exercises, focused breathing, and yoga-type things going on.

My foster boy Agapi (Photo: Katerina Lorenzatos Makris)

But no amount of yoga and whatnot will erase the fact that I can’t go home till Agapi finds his home—a loving, patient adopter. Given his health and behavior issues, this could take a while.

In an upcoming post, I’ll write about Kisses, and how she found her home—namely, ours. For sure it will make me cry to remember the first time I saw her, in a ditch in Houston. But it will also make me calm, as I think about the feel of her fur, as soft as a mink's, and her compulsion to bathe everybody with slurps (guess why the name), and her silly puppy yips when she wants to be pet, which is nearly always.

All the relaxation exercises, special breathing, and yoga in the world can’t top the calm you get from the presence—or even the imagined presence—of a dog you love.

That’s a life lesson I learned a long time ago.

More on why I'm in Greece:

How I got stranded in an old, cold, leaky house all winter 

More on Agapi:

A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?

Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma  

Dog rescue styles: Ms. Savvy-and-Sensible versus the Wahoooo Cowgirl

Love comes home: the challenging rescue of a sick and bloody street dog  

A matter of hope: lab results tomorrow to determine ill street dog’s fate 

Curing a street dog of two deadly diseases might be easier than finding him a home 

Vet’s instructions for curing rescued dog’s wicked disease 

Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.

To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted

COPYRIGHT 2012

The Dozen Dog Diaries (DDD) would be delighted if you'd spread the links to these articles. Please just keep in mind that reprint or re-post of more than a paragraph or two of the text or of any of the photos is allowable only by explicit permission from DDD, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!