And They Call It Puppy Love

You may remember I wrote a blog post about how my husband and I are fostering dogs for American Brittany Rescue. Since that post Toots has moved on to Denver and Freckles has been adopted and is now the very loved pet of a happy little boy and his family in Nebraska.

Toots and Freckles weren't our only fosters since I wrote that post, we also fostered another Brittany who had been picked up off the streets Wichita Kansas. He came to us from the Norton Correctional Facility in Norton, Kansas where he had gone through the Second Chance Homeless Pet Society dog training program. The first thing he did when he was brought into our yard was start searching for a way out. After spending a little over a week with us he also went on to a new home with loving owners.

But that wasn't the only dog we were looking out for during that time period. There were six others....but I think I'll let my husband tell you about it. Below you will find the the article that he wrote for the ABR newsletter which tell you the rest of the story.

There are many reasons to live in a small rural town in the high plains --- the quiet easy lifestyle, plenty of fields just outside of town to run our dogs and decent bird hunting 5 minutes away. However one thing that is disheartening is the livestock approach to pet ownership. It's sad to see dogs penned and chained their entire lives with no chance to run in the fields, play with other dogs or even interact much with their owners.

Sometimes I'm in a position to change some of this and this is my most recent story. Earlier this year a young couple in a ramshackle house on the edge of town decided to breed their two Brittanies most likely for the money. As the 7 pups grew and passed the 8-10 week adoption period my concern began to grow. The pups were exposed to improperly cut, very sharp chicken wire and tied up with steel cable without access to their water bowl at times. This went on during our record heat spell with days well over 100 degrees. I didn't even want to know their diet. At least one pup finally was sold.

When the 4 month period passed 2 of the pups were sold or given to a high school student and promptly showed up across the alley in a pen owned by someone else. At the point things got even worse. More 106 degree days and no water in the afternoon. Barbed wire, electrical cord and old feces throughout the pen. Once in a while the kid showed up to feed and water them but that was it. No walks, no training, no vet visits, no attention. I will never get out of my mind their wishful faces and forlorn cries for attention as they eyed us working in our yard.

So here we were, long time Brittany owners and fosters for ABR with this going on in our back yard. I knew that the pups didn't have much time left and it was time to take action. Diplomacy and consideration of others is always a good starting point. I approached the young couple with the 4 remaining pups and the kid with the 2 pups behind us. I told them of my concern for the pups and if I could help out in any way to let me know. I let them know all about ABR and how we could help. This worked for the young couple and they were happy that they could send the pups on.

These 4 pups went to Melissa Walsh, our regional coordinator, who had to worm them, get them on a good diet and give them some needed attention. She got them on a high quality grain-free diet which was sorely compromised when all 4 pups broke into her garden like a pack of juvenile delinquents and consumed many ears of corn.

The kid with the 2 pups behind me was obviously immature with no apparent empathy for his pups. He just wanted them, a trait I've seen before with people who want control over other living things. My kindly put concern for the pups went no where with him. I got the owner of the property and the chief of police involved. Luckily the chief is a dog person and told me bluntly that no dog was going to die on his watch. He strong armed the kid and I got the pups. Just in time. They went to the vet for worming, overdue shots and everything else we do for new dogs. I knew that we couldn't foster the pups for a multitude of reasons so I drove them to another ABR foster out-of-state.

When we got to the transfer point I put the pups on leashes and walked them around. Charlie, the more curious one, immediately got his head stuck in a Coke machine. I had visions of cutting him out with a reciprocating saw but fortunately I got his head out of there with no apparent damage. And that is my last and favorite memory of the pups that went on to a better life.