tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43761765736068573932024-11-01T03:36:51.768-07:00Rescue dogs and those who love 'em!Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-57396411685905496832011-08-08T08:50:00.000-07:002011-08-08T13:09:41.486-07:00

Beatrix again Beatrix Skip again Skip the energetic a tired and happy Skip I don't remember this boy's name I tend to say too much, so today I'm just going to feature a few dogs at the animal shelter. All were adopted and are happy. The large dogs are the ones I work with, but I cajoled other volunteers to let me take a few photos of the others. In Beatrix's

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-86243241217509109222011-07-31T11:41:00.000-07:002011-08-08T13:28:36.898-07:00

A long absence! It was due to a combination of (a) computer problems (after prolonged full scans of hardware and software, no malware or hardware issues were found-- so the problem remained a mystery, but a fresh download of my security suite and web browser seems to have fixed it) and (b) an illness (me, not my dog Shauna). I've mentioned that I've been volunteering at the county animal shelter

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-79129006210982749042011-05-19T21:42:00.000-07:002011-05-19T21:42:39.645-07:00

When we adopted Shauna, she was already an estimated three years of age. In an earlier blog ("A Sedative for Dogs") I described how I learned to give her strenuous daily exercise by using a mountain bike. I had never had a dog that needed so much exercise, but she taught me how a good exercise program, practiced every day, can act as a sedative for dogs. A welcome side effect: the dog does not

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-37537821726023560952011-04-23T10:48:00.000-07:002011-04-28T21:01:18.149-07:00

Baxter with his dog-chew In 2010 the Animal Care Center needed one of its  volunteers to foster a large, one-year old male mix while he recuperated from surgery. He had been picked up as a stray, and had apparently been hit by a car. His left hind leg had been damaged to the point where he needed an operation to remove the end of the femur and reattach tendons to hold it in place. The

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-46568487717392985702011-04-23T09:40:00.000-07:002011-08-06T23:51:44.922-07:00

For several years, we often were asked by pedestrians we passed by what breed of dog was Shauna. We always said she was part collie and part Siberian. She was large for a female Siberian, and had a longer coat. Also, her snout was longer. On the other hand, her snout was not as pointy as a collie's. Her head also wasn't as flat  as a collie's. She had a higher crown. All things considered,

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-37823352835279841432011-04-21T18:45:00.000-07:002011-04-23T09:20:18.744-07:00

Just a day at the beach! Within a few days after adopting Shauna at the county's Animal Care Center, I knew that this was going to be a challenge. She was like no other dog I had ever had. The first challenge was leash training. Being a Siberian mix, she was born to pull. And so she did! Of course, all dogs pull until they are leash-trained. But even when I was able to walk her at my side,

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-69017428370186326972011-04-17T10:22:00.000-07:002011-04-22T15:04:30.290-07:00

Every year, from that first summer in 1957, Lassie developed an eczema that caused her immeasurable suffering, and she scratched and bit herself so badly that she lost hair on her back and her skin was scaly and sometimes bloody. In the fall, after cool weather set in, her hair grew back and she was happy. We, of course, didn't know what the problem was. I was only a boy, and my mom and

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-84383403231319155392011-04-16T22:58:00.000-07:002011-04-23T09:07:18.803-07:00

The story of my first very own dog has a happy beginning but a sad ending. The beginning: One Saturday a few weeks before Christmas and a few weeks after my eleventh or twelfth birthday, my mom and dad returned home from their monthly trip to the  supermarket. As usual, my sister and I came down to the garage to help carry up the many bags of groceries. This time, they asked me to carry up

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-82868566835331266062011-04-16T15:02:00.000-07:002011-04-18T00:07:16.180-07:00

Shauna with her Squeaky Ball My favorite dog books ever: The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein; Good Dog, Stay, by Anna Quindlen; and Merle's Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog, by Ted Kerasote. I like Kerasote's non-fiction book because he freely interprets what his dog Merle is thinking and would say if only he could talk; he even expresses those thoughts on behalf of Merle. And

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-33416881989490483332011-04-13T17:57:00.001-07:002011-04-15T22:51:03.380-07:00

I was inspired to write this by a touching post by Ashley Owen Hill, Before You Go to Heaven, reposted by Maria Goodavage on her website. Hill tells of fostering a fatally ill dog (Annie) from a shelter for a short period, to give her a home and the love that she had never gotten before, and only after giving her as much as possible taking her for the inevitable final trip to the vet, and seeing

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-92026431846375484892011-04-12T20:20:00.000-07:002011-04-17T11:54:45.168-07:00

adoption day--looking pretty skinny and scruffy When I took my newly adopted dog home and introduced her to my wife, she (wife) was surprised (I hadn't told her) and delighted. Now we had to think of a name. Always a tough choice (well, sometimes a tough choice). She (dog) was clearly a Siberian mix, so that suggested a Russian name. We didn't agonize over it-- the name "Shauna," 

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376176573606857393.post-41149499389719533662011-04-11T13:22:00.000-07:002011-04-15T23:07:52.280-07:00

In 2003, I found a large dog running loose on a busy street (actually, he was in a supermarket parking lot on a busy street). Supermarket employees tried rounding him up because he entered the store through the self-opening doors. They took a dog lead from the store shelf and tied him in a room, then called animal control. He, however, had other ideas, and he chewed through the lead in less time

Adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10112136868228380775noreply@blogger.com0