Pregnant and abandoned is no way for a dog to spend Mother’s Day

Waiting at our front gate

First the facts:

She was pregnant.

She was abandoned. Not once, but twice. By two different men.

She was suspicious of people. (What a surprise.)

She was heavily infested with ticks—on her eyelids, ears, throat, chest, and rump.

Because she wears a diamond on her shoulder—a white patch of fur in the shape of that crystal—and because she is a jewel herself, to me she became “Diamandi,” Greek for diamond.

And she was waiting for me.

Just as I arrived back at our house on the island of Kefalonia from Athens, where I’d loaded my previous rescue/foster Princess Kali Amanda on the plane to fly to her adopters in Denmark, under the auspices of rescue group Graeske Hunde—right when I drove up—Diamandi sat there waiting at our front gate.

Challenging my Lenten vow

I almost made it. For 40 days from late February till Greek Easter in April, I’d sworn off rescuing and/or fostering any more dogs.

During that time I already had a rescue in progress—an energetic teenager, the elegant yellow Labrador mix Princess Kali Amanda, who was a big project. Her care and the complicated international delivery to her forever family in Denmark ate up many of my waking hours and even some of the hypothetical sleeping ones.

While I fostered Kali there was almost no time left for accomplishing the tasks for which I’d come to the island of Kefalonia—salvaging our crumbling old house there and working on writing projects. Certainly there was no time, let alone energy, to take in a second rescue.

But it was hard to resist. Street dogs wander and chained dogs languish everywhere, some in reasonable shape, others near death.

For Lent, I vowed to give it up. The canine species is one of my great passions in life, but rescuing nearly 130 of them in the past 10 years has created a major distraction from the things I am supposed to be doing. Like, for instance, earning a living. And how about living up to innumerable promises and responsibilities that are too embarrassing to list due to the fact that so many of them have not been lived up to?

All on her own

Diamandi lurked around our village throughout the long, harsh winter. Some of the neighbors fed her. She found shelter here and there, they said.

For the first several weeks I had assumed she had a home. Her best friend seemed to be another female dog named Froso. Diamandi devotedly followed Froso everywhere, the same way other dogs follow their humans. Since Froso belonged to a family around the corner from us, I thought Diamandi was theirs too.

Also one of the neighbors let her accompany him and his own dog on their daily walks through the countryside, a regular bit of companionship that I noticed she seemed to cherish. She never missed it, and she often skipped around in excitement at the sight of that neighbor and his dog.

But aside from those walks and her friendship with Froso, Diamandi was on her own.

Nibbled at my conscience

Originally, some guy had brought her to the village, I was told, and he kept her chained up, quite common in Greece. Then he moved out and left her behind. Also common.

Next, another guy took pity on her and decided to keep her at his house in a different village. But for whatever reason, he brought her back. And left her there. Again.

All winter, after I realized she had no home, Diamandi nibbled at my conscience. But she wouldn’t come anywhere near me. Plus I was barely managing to care for and make the travel and adoption plans for Kali, the first one. Would it be fair to anybody, including Kali, to take in a second?

As I prepared for the road trip to Athens for Kali’s flight to Denmark, the weather began to warm, and I knew all too well what that meant.  Most un-spayed female dogs on the island soon would go into season. By summer they’d give birth to unwanted litters of puppies who they’d have to raise with little or no help. Diamandi would probably be one of those struggling mothers.

The night before Kali and I left, I saw two different males following Diamandi. If they accomplished their missions, in a few weeks she was going to have one heck of a Mother’s Day. She’d be hugely pregnant, nearing her due date, and still on the streets.

A hard choice

When you’re crazy about dogs, and you’re surrounded by dogs who need help, you end up making choices you don’t like.

To get Kali to Denmark, which required a one-hour drive, followed by a three-hour boat trip, followed by a five-hour drive, followed by a search for the pet store where I needed to buy Kali’s transport crate, followed by an overnight in a hotel, followed by another one-hour drive to the airport and the subsequent complicated process of getting her on the plane, I had to force myself to forget about Diamandi.

At least temporarily.

Please see the next article about Diamandi.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012

Please feel free to spread the links to these articles, but reprint or re-post of the photos, or of anything more than a paragraph or two of the text is allowable only by explicit permission from the author, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Princess Kali Amanda's 'rebirth' renews faith

One last hug at the airport as Kali's new life begins

They are starving. Sick. Injured. Infested with parasites, inside and out. They are afraid, as victims of abuse and neglect often are. They are exhausted, searching for something, anything, to eat, and for a place to shelter from the ravages of weather.

In countless communities around the world, homeless dogs live—and die—all around us. Some people see them. Others don’t.

If you’re one who sees, your heart breaks, and sometimes, if you can, you have to do something about it. Help one of them, or two, or more.

As a dog foster guardian you worry about whether or not you’ll be able to pull it off. Can you provide proper care? Do you have the time and the money?  Can you find loving families for them if you can’t keep them yourself?

You might exhaust yourself and your resources in the conviction that in the end the treasures in your care—those diamonds in the rough that someone threw away, and that so many others didn’t see (or didn’t want to see)—somehow will find the safe, happy future they deserve.

The rescue miracle

To some, it might sound simple, but what it amounts to, in most cases, is resurrection. The animals you take in are often near death—physically and/or emotionally—and it’s up to you to bring them back to life. 

It’s nothing short of a miracle when it happens. With your help the pieces of “trash” that someone tossed away—essentially condemning them to death—beat the enormous odds to find safety and love in adopters’ arms.

This week, during Easter season, a time that for many symbolizes rebirth, I had the pleasure of experiencing that miracle first-hand. The adopters of Kali, a starving, limping dog I’d found on the streets of an island in Greece, fostered for three months, then re-homed with the help of Danish rescue group Graeske Hunde, emailed me from Denmark with news of her new life.

That note sailed me over the moon with joy. Two days later, I’m still walking on air.

From near death to a bright new life

Just a few months ago Kali had one paw in the tomb. The veterinarian who spayed her (thanks to funding from local rescue group Kefalonia Animal Trust) told me that if Kali had stayed on the street a little longer, she surely would have become pregnant, and because of her dislocated hip—an old, untreated injury—the difficulties of carrying and bearing the puppies quite likely would have killed her, and with excruciating pain, at that.

She’d have been dead by now.

Instead, through an international effort that included a foster mom, two rescue groups, lots of help and advice from friends across the globe, and ultimately a wonderful adoptive family, lucky Kali managed to escape the canine Grim Reaper.

Your power

If you care about animals, it’s easy to lose hope. Daily, there’s story after story about all that they suffer worldwide.

But because a group of just a few people worked together, Kali rose up into a bright new life.

Her “rebirth” renewed my faith in the power that each of us possesses, especially when it’s pooled with that of others, to right wrongs, remedy suffering, and give animals in need the kind of lives they all deserve.

Even if you can’t rescue, foster, or adopt, you have that power. It can be used for something as easy as speaking gently with friends and family about the importance of responsible pet care, sharing links on social media about needy animals and about animal issues, volunteering at your local shelter, or donating a few bucks to hardworking rescue groups.

Your power can make miracles, and in return for your help in resurrecting a life, those miracles just might breathe new faith, strength, and joy into your own.

Can being plain, pudgy, and middle-aged save your life? It did Ginger’s

Ginger is saving some smiles just for you

There are lots of plain, pudgy, middle-aged dogs in shelters across the country, passed over by prospective adopters and ultimately euthanized because they lack prettiness and pizzazz. But in the case of one such dog, her looks saved her life.

When Jennifer Hale and her colleagues at Save a Litter Pregnant Dog Rescue, Inc. saw a mass email about Ginger, a mellow, affectionate Labrador mix who had ended up on “Death Row” at a Georgia public shelter after her owner went to jail, they fell in love. (Even though Ginger was definitely not pregnant—just plump).

“She looked like a previous dog we adored,” said Hale.

And that’s all it took. The group promptly pulled Ginger from the shelter, and now Hale is fostering the sweet-natured dog in her home.

“Ginger is a precious shepherd/golden retriever mix who weighs about 65 pounds and is four years old,” said Hale in an email to Animal Policy Examiner (APE). “She has a sunny personality and loves to play, run, jump, lick, and get lots of loving from everyone she meets.”

“Ginger is great with other dogs, cats and kids,” Hale continued, “and is healthy in all aspects of her life.  The only thing she needs is a family with a heart big enough to see past her mixed breed.  She is spayed and fully vetted and ready for a new home.  There is no adoption fee for this gal but donations are appreciated.”

Will Ginger be difficult to place because she’s four years old—not a puppy?

“Age is not so much a factor as breed,” said Hale. “To me a purebred older dog is much more likely to find a home than a mutt older dog.”

But Hale believes that whoever adopts Ginger will be very lucky.

“We are so thankful that Ginger has crossed our path,” Hale said. “Ginger will make a great addition to any family and be an awesome asset to our society in general.  Dogs like Ginger really make you feel good that you are working hard to help save their lives."

Watch Ginger in action.

Read more about Ginger and the heroic shelter worker who networked to save her:

Ginger’s ‘dad’ went to jail - now she's on Death Row

Death Row dog gets rescued

Please consider adopting Ginger, and/or spread the link to this article.

To learn more about adopting Ginger or other wonderful dogs waiting for you, contact:

Jen Hale

Tel. (404) 99-SAVE 1

Email: jademoonnyte@gmail.com.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012 -  Please feel free to spread the links to these articles, but reprint or re-post of anything more than a paragraph or two of text is allowable only by explicit permission from the author, who may be contacted at youradopteddog@yahoo.com. Thank you!

My rescue habit: can I give it up for Lent… and beyond?

If rescuing her is wrong, do I want to be right?

For those of Greek Orthodox faith or inclinations, Lent begins today.

“It is a time of self-examination and preparation,” according to the Reverend Father George Mastrantonis, posting on a Greek Orthodox Diocese of America website, “and of taking an inventory of one's inner life.”

Traditionally, Lent is a time of fasting, of giving up foods containing animal products, and of learning to get along without something you thought was necessary.

As a vegan, I never eat animals or things that come from them, so I decided to find something else to shed during my Lenten “self-examination and preparation.”

The sacrifice

For Lent 2012, I hereby give up NOT writing.

Yes, you read that right.  I’m giving up the silly habit of not writing—writing being one of the things in the world I love best, and also being the only thing I’m halfway decent at doing, which, therefore, could be interpreted as being the thing I’m supposed to be doing, whether by divine decree or simply by virtue of how I'm wired.

What does all this have to do with dogs, who are presumably the focus of The Dozen Dog Diaries?

Dogs have kept me from writing. 

Kali soon after I found her, starving so that all her ribs and vertebrae showed, and limping

The urge to rescue grows

Sometimes dogs provoke me to write. In fact, every single day, the thought of everything that dogs and other nonhuman animals suffer in this world sets me ablaze with the need to learn and write about them and about those issues.  

But sometimes, when I come face to snout with dogs in trouble, efforts to get them out of trouble bite off sizeable chunks of my time, so that when all is said and done each day, I can barely keep my eyes open or even think straight enough to write.

Even worse, loving dogs and other animals as dearly as many of us do can grow like ivy, so that one day you’re no longer able stop at loving and saving dogs or cats or pigs or chickens or monkeys or mice or birds or bees or dolphins or sharks or sea anemones or banana slugs, but find yourself loving and saving members of the absolute last species with whom you ever expected to get yourself mixed up.

The ones who can be a massive, royal pain to love, not to mention to save.

The ones who can muck up your life a heck of a lot worse than all of the others piled together.

You know very well who I’m talking about. Chances are you’ve gotten mixed up with loving and saving a few of them yourself.

It might have been your boyfriend or girlfriend or sibling or parent or cousin or aunt or your schoolmate or just some sad shredded scrap of a person you met somewhere. You stitched them back together and stuffed them with your most tender love and care. Then maybe they got so full and feisty that they gave you the old heave-ho. (At which point you proudly dusted off your hands and happily waved adieu. Right? Let’s hope.)

Meanwhile, just like ivy can strangle a tree, a rescue habit can grab you by your empathetic little neck and refuse to let go.

Tree-choking ivy

Saving ourselves

As beautiful as ivies might be—and they all are, both literally and figuratively; what can be more beautiful, in theory, than the compulsion to help someone in need?—sometimes, in order to keep on breathing, we have to peel them off.

It’s painstaking work, ivies being the tenacious things they are. You might have to go leaf leaf by leaf, tendril by tendril. Get out an axe for the thicker stalks.

But can you hack them off without losing parts of yourself? Your loving and caring parts?

Lent is as good a time as any for giving this a try. It’s a time to test yourself, to improve, to purify, and to question habits that have become a part of you, for better or for worse.

Some parts of a rescue fetish are for the better. Other parts are for the worse.

Maybe that’s the trick here. To figure out which are the worse parts of a potentially self-destructive habit or predilection, prune them away, and leave the better parts to spread and flourish, stronger than ever.

Wish me luck. If I can manage to keep my Lenten vow, you’ll see more frequent posts here.

Most important, thanks for reading. If anything’s going to help me keep that vow, compulsive overhelper that I am, it’s the notion that others might face similar problems, and that my posts might be of use.

Candles in a church on the island of Paros

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012 -  Please feel free to spread the links to these articles, but reprint or re-post of the photos, or of anything more than a paragraph or two of the text is allowable only by explicit permission from the author, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Should Iowa school allow kids to chase Gracie the 'comfort dog’? Do NOT try this at home (opinion)

Our foster pooch Kali loves kids, but would she tolerate being chased by a mob of them? We'd never ask her to.

Gracie, a golden retriever who works as a “comfort dog” for young students in an Iowa school, looks like about the mildest-mannered pooch you’ll ever see. But watching a CNN video of a dozen or more of those children chasing her around a gymnasium made my hair stand on end.

To me Gracie seemed a bit unsure about the romp at Trinity Lutheran Church and School, licking her lips and glancing around a little nervously. On the other hand, for all I know she might have been thoroughly enjoying herself. Yet a few questions troubled me.

Before I get to that list, I'll say that if you ask me, every school should have a comfort dog, not only to help students cope with disappointments and frustrations, as does Gracie, according to the CNN report. I’d love to see it go a step further, so that dogs assist in all youngsters’ humane education, teaching the importance of proper respect and care for our fellow earthlings.

Even better, wouldn’t it be something if such comfort dogs could be formerly homeless pooches who were carefully and lovingly selected, adopted, and nurtured for that work?

In any case, the Trinity school, as well as Lutheran Church Charities (LCC), which runs the K-9 Parish Comfort Dog program, deserve commendation for their innovative service that provides canine companions to enrich students’ and parishioners’ lives.

“A dog is a friend who brings a calming influence,” states the program’s Facebook page, “allowing people to open up their hearts and receive help for what is affecting them.”

Amen.

Now for my questions:

- Is there a responsible adult nearby at all times to make sure the kids, who are understandably high-energy, don’t intimidate or jostle Gracie during those chases and other activities?

- Is someone on hand to ensure the kids never overburden or crowd Gracie with unwelcome attention?

- Does Gracie get plenty of “down” time away from her duties?

- Do the adults as well as the children keep in mind that Gracie is neither a toy nor a tool, but a sensitive and intelligent individual with needs and rights of her own?

- Most troubling, will the CNN video indicate to millions of viewers that it’s perfectly fine to let a bunch of kids chase a dog? Will this scene be repeated in homes where the dogs turn out to be less mellow than Gracie? Will it lead to unpleasant or even disastrous encounters?

Asking too much of dogs?

A dog who is easy-going and tolerant of attention from folks of all ages throughout his life can suddenly change if he’s placed in a situation he perceives as threatening—for example being chased by several shrieking humans. Something like that might be too much to ask, and his reaction might be to defend himself.

Images that flash into my head are maulings for the kids, which of course would be followed by the dog paying the highest price, as dogs usually do in such cases—impoundment and a death sentence.

Go ahead, call me a worrywart. I know I’m borrowing trouble. But I’ve seen a few too many of the tragic results of humans failing to respect other animals’ reasonable limits.

All that said, I reiterate kudos to the Trinity school, to LCC, and most of all to Gracie herself, for being such a great sport and giving abundant love and solace to “her” kids.

She’s a better gal than me, that’s for sure. If I were in her paws, one chase like that and I’d be done. I’d stop running, whip around, and snap snap snap. Then there'd be stitches for my pursuers and courtesy accommodations at the local animal shelter for grumpy me.

More power to ya, sweet Gracie, for putting up with us humans.

Now you’ve heard my opinion on this question. What’s yours? Courteous comments are always welcome.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012 -  Please feel free to spread the links to these articles, but reprint or re-post of the photos, or of anything more than a paragraph or two of the text is allowable only by explicit permission from the author, who may be contacted at youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom. Thanks for visiting!

Death Row dog finds a home

Ginger looks worried in this photo but is probably all smiles now

 (Photo: Henry County Animal Control Shelter)

On Valentine’s Day the news came from Betsy at the Henry County Animal Control shelter in Georgia:  Ginger was adopted!

Betsy deserves a paws up and canine kisses for this success story. Her heart broke when Ginger, a “fat, middle-aged,” sweet-tempered Labrador mix, was brought into the shelter because her owner had gone to jail. (See previous article.)

Through no crime of her own, Ginger was essentially “jailed as well,” as Betsy put it.

Typically, chances are miniscule for an older, relatively nondescript dog like Ginger to find a new home. Chances are a lot higher that they’ll end their days at a kill shelter. But Betsy took the extra time to network Ginger through her contacts and through the Internet, and somehow worked a miracle.

I hope to get more details about Ginger’s lucky adoption and new life.

Meanwhile, big kudos to Betsy and to Ginger’s new forever family.

Learning that Ginger had been sprung from the slammer was one of the best Valentine’s Day gifts I’ve ever received.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012 -  Please feel free to spread the links to these articles, but reprint or re-post of anything more than a paragraph or two of text is allowable only by explicit permission from the author, who may be contacted at youradopteddog@yahoo.com. Thank you!

Ginger’s ‘dad’ went to jail - now she's on Death Row

Ginger, doing the time for someone else's crime.
(Photo: Henry County Animal Control Shelter)

Every time our father went to prison—four different stints over a couple of decades, or maybe more; I lost count—my siblings and I were lucky to have a loving mother and grandparents to care for us.

Ginger is not so lucky. When her owner got evicted from his home and then arrested, the easy-going Labrador retriever mix ended up at the local animal shelter.

Or, as it says on her Henry County Animal Control Shelter profile, “Her owner was evicted and then jailed, so Ginger is also a victim of his situation. They were put out and he was taken to jail, so she came to us, jailed as well.”

On Death Row

Ever since I saw her photo on Facebook earlier this week, I haven’t stopped thinking about Ginger. Maybe it’s because my own father was in prison for so much of my youth, and I remember too well the hardships it created. Or maybe it’s because of the look of bewilderment and sorrow on her face, expressing the same pain carried by many children whose parents are or have been incarcerated. We number more than 10 million in the U.S. alone, by many estimates.

Another reason I keep thinking about Ginger is that she reminds me a bit of Derby, an angelic brown beauty my husband and I adopted from a Chesapeake Bay retriever rescue group in Napa Valley years ago, after her former owner had gone to jail too.

“We held her as a special circumstance,” Ginger’s profile reads, “but a family member has let us know her owner is not getting out. So here she sits, possibly facing the end of her life [in a kill shelter], alone and confused.”

'Amazing' girl

“LOVE this girl,” her profile continues. “She is so amazing. Must come meet her! You will not leave without her!”

Via email I asked Becky at the Henry County shelter in McDonough, Georgia what makes Ginger so amazing.

“She is a VERY sweet girl,” Becky replied. “A big couch potato—a fat, spayed, middle-aged house dog. Needs someone to love her for the rest of her life.  It is very heartbreaking to watch her languish here. We’ve held Ginger for a few weeks hoping a family member would come but none have. So I listed her on the net for adoption.”

Ginger sounds like the kind of mellow, pleasant companion who could fit into just about any home with a minimum of fuss. It’s hard to go wrong adopting a middle-aged dog. They’re a ton less work than puppies or teenage pooches, who can easily drive you up the wall. Yet you still have a lot of great years ahead to enjoy with a middle-ager.

Regardless of what Ginger’s ‘dad’ might have done to end up in the slammer, sweet Ginger certainly doesn’t deserve to be imprisoned too.

Can you help spring this innocent jailbird?

Please consider adopting Ginger, and/or spread the link to this article.

To help sponsor Ginger with a donation, visit her ChipInpage.

For more info about her contact:

Henry County Animal ControlShelter

Tel. 770-288-PETS (7387)

Please use Ginger’s ID number when inquiring about her: ID# 1/9-4704

UPDATE:  GINGER WAS ADOPTED!  Read more.

ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS (unless otherwise noted) 
COPYRIGHT 2012 -  Please feel free to spread the links to these articles, but reprint or re-post of anything more than a paragraph or two of text is allowable only by explicit permission from the author, who may be contacted at youradopteddog@yahoo.com. Thank you!