shelterdog – aliciajoseph

Adopt a Rescue Dog

Two weeks ago I was given news I had spent years asking the universe for. Sevvy, a dog that had lived over two years at the shelter I volunteer at, was finally adopted. We’ve had some teases before of pending adoptions that never went through, but finally it seems that Sevvy has found her home.

Sevvy is a five-year old pit-bull mix who had been adopted from the shelter as a puppy, but brought back, adopted out again, and then returned again when she became possessive of her toys with the children in the house.

Finally, after two long years, Sevvy has found a home, and I hope she never steps foot in the shelter again. As much I love and miss her, I hope to never see her face again, except through a chance meeting at a park somewhere. It would be wonderful to run into Sevvy and see her enjoying life on the “outside.”

There are so many loving animals in shelters all over the country like Sevvy who are great dogs, but have been let down by humans. I don’t know if the couple who rescued Sevvy really understand the importance of what they did. Sevvy was taking anti-anxiety medication because life in a shelter is chaotic and loud and unsettling. Sevvy was showing signs of distress that only medication could help. Hopefully Sevvy doesn’t have to take anti-anxiety medications anymore.

If you’re looking for a pet, please visit your local animal shelter or animal control facilities. There may be an anxiety-ridden dog there like Sevvy who desperately wants to get off her meds.

Victor

Last week I went to the animal shelter I volunteer at and was meant with tragic news. A dog that had been with us for over a year had died some time during the night. The news was devastating, but not shocking. Victor had been going through medical issues for a while. The shelter had been asking volunteers for months if anyone would take him in an a permanent foster so that he could live out whatever life he had left in the comfort of a home. The problem was that Victor needed to be in a home with no other pets. Most volunteers, like myself, have pets at home.

It was sad to watch Victor spend his days in a loud and crowded shelter. It’s a stressing place to be. No place for any dog, let alone a sick, older guy. He was nine. He had come to the shelter when he was eight. The circumstances to how he ended up with us are not fair at all. Victor had been living a good life with his owner on property the owner managed. Then a new landlord came in, took one look at Victor (an American Bulldog) and said that dog’s got to go. Suddenly Victor found himself in a shelter where he stayed until the day he died.

Victor didn’t bite anyone. He didn’t attack anyone. He did no harm. Yet, still he got locked up. That’s what a shelter is to a dog. Even shelters like mine, who treat their animals with loving care and give them all the medical attention they need, are still prisons to these dogs. Shelters are not supposed to be permanent homes, but way too often, too many dogs die there. Either naturally due to medical/age reasons. Or by euthanasia because there is juts not enough space for all of them.

But there would be if more people got involved to help with this overpopulation epidemic this country has. I saw a picture on social media last week of a line of people waiting to foster dogs before hurricane Florence came. My first thought was, where are all these people when local shelters and animals controls have to kill dogs for lack of room? Why is the thought of a dog dying in a hurricane so much worse than a dogs getting a needle or the gas chamber that people flocked to line up to take these dogs in? I’m glad they did, but where are they all the other times a dog’s life is in danger, which is every day?

Maybe because there’s more hoopla with a hurricane. People feel like they’re doing a bigger deed when they foster or adopt a “hurricane dog” as opposed to just a regular dog from the local shelter. I remember when Hurricane Harvey happened and many local shelters, including my own, took in many of those dogs left abandoned and people came out in droves to help out.

Again, it’s great that they do that, but where are they when dogs are killed every single day? It is beyond frustrating. You’re not a bigger hero when you save a hurricane dog as opposed to a dog sitting in a kennel with the clock ticking against it. Most dogs run out of time. Maybe shelters have to be more vocal about what will happen to these dogs if they don’t get out. The shelter I volunteer at is no-kill. I have that luxury of knowing the dogs I come to love, like I did Victor, will get all the time they need to find a home. But they’re still racing against the clock because the older a dog gets, the less likely a person will adopt them. And as in Victor’s case, sometimes your health takes you before you find a home.

Victor deserved better than taking his last breath alone in a kennel. He deserved to be in a comfy bed or snuggled on the couch with his human who loved him, but he was cruelly taken away from his human. He just wanted a home with a bed and lots of hugs and kisses.These breed-specific-laws and breed discrimination has to end. Victor wasn’t a danger to anyone. He was a shelter favorite.

Victor was a goofy, gentle, and playful dog, despite the pain his condition put him through. Make no mistake, Victor was loved where he was. It’s hard seeing his kennel empty and will be even harder to see his kennel with another dog in it because for over a year I have been used to seeing his beautiful face. Miss you. Love you.

If you’re looking for a pet, please visit your local shelter. Please don’t go to breeders or pet stores while shelter animals die.

Adopt a Shelter Pet Day

I can always tell when I’ve dove head first into writing a current book — I forget all about my blog. Even though one of my New Year’s resolutions was to write two blogs a week. Not an unreachable goal. When I set that target, I wasn’t trying to set myself up for failure. It was meant to be easily attainable, yet, here I am. Three weeks since my last blog. I’d ask for a raise of hands from all those who have missed me, but one should never set themselves up for disappointment. Haha.

The writing schedule I have set for myself for the year, is moving along nicely. I have finished the first book of a series I was working on at the start of the year. A novella about friendship and betrayal.

I’ve switched to a story I started writing in college. It was a short story set in the 1950’s about a girl who lives with her aunt and her abusive uncle. I’ve revised the book, Annabel, from a short story into a now 62,000 word novel. Lots of revision is needed, but I’m excited about writing this piece. It’s a break from the lesbian-themed stories I’ve been writing, as this story has no gay characters.

At least, not yet. A writer sometimes doesn’t know where her story will take her. I love that about writing.

I’ve tossed in the writing towel for tonight. My pit bull snores softly beside me on the bed. He’s always right beside me. My loyal sidekick.

Today was Adopt a Shelter Pet Day. I rescued Phil from animal control, a kill shelter. He’s an amazingly sweet dog who definitely deserved to live, like so many dogs, especially pit bulls, who have been killed because homes weren’t found in time. I have become an annoying preacher to my friends against buying dogs from breeders and pet stores, as thousands of loving animals die every day in shelters. I don’t care. I’ll deal with their rolling eyes, and if I’m unfollowed on Facebook because of posts also preaching about adopting over shopping, I’ll survive just fine.

The statistic is that only 1 of every 600 pit bulls will make it out of a shelter alive. Over a million will be euthanized by the end of this year. Pit bulls are the most bred breed of dog. They are also the highest to be euthanized. If you breed a pit bull, you are nothing but an asshole. Period.

My plea to anyone who will listen is to not only adopt their next pet, but adopt a pittie. Pit bulls are great dogs. They don’t deserve to die in crowded shelters.

Lost and Scared

It was cold last night in Chicago. Real cold. Factor in the wind chill and the temperature fell to a brutal degree that no living being could ever survive, at least not without every inch of their flesh covered under thick layers of heavy clothing. But even that probably wouldn’t have been enough to take the chill away.

Last night was the kind of night you go to bed, pull the covers up to your chin, and say a prayer for anyone who has no other place to sleep but on the streets.

I follow a Rescue group on Facebook and on my newsfeed was a post about a woman who had found a dog, all by itself, while waiting for a bus. The dog wouldn’t leave her side, but she couldn’t take him on the bus with her. So she called a friend. Explained everything. And that friend took to Facebook. She gave the intersecting streets where the dog currently was, somewhere in Bridgeport, and an immediate outpour of responses flooded the thread.

My eyes were glued to my computer screen while I frantically read comments asking for confirmation the dog was still at said location, another stating that a woman was on her way, another, from the original poster, urging swift action because even though the dog seemed attached to the woman at the bus station, the woman still needed to keep a secure grip on the dog, and because the dog had no collar, this wasn’t an easy task with a sixty-plus pound dog. The dog was scared. And scared dogs usually run.

I read the thread as though it were a captivating suspense novel, and I was gripping at the cusp of anxious uncertainty of how this would end…….

I held my dog a little tighter that night as I imagined him wandering those same lonely and cold streets, terrified. And I silently prayed that if I should ever lose him, someone would come to his rescue the way those “angels” on Facebook did for this sweetheart found last night.