The New Rescue Pack

Dog rescue always somehow seemed easier than helping people, I mean I've never felt strong enough to foster a human child or become a firefighter and truly "rescue" anything!  Besides, dogs are amazingly intelligent creatures that are loyal, lovable, and most importantly can't speak for themselves in a society they have been domesticated into.  When the first caveman threw a chunk of meat to a dog, befriended him, and pulled him away from his natural instincts to hunt, we entered into a sacred stewardship with the species and we owe it to them to protect and care for them.  In return they give us that loyalty and unconditional love.  As long as we maintain that unspoken agreement, the symbiotic relationship will flourish.

Rescue.  It sounds so arrogant, so out-of-proportion for the actual physical tasks that are involved in taking on a foster dog.  I know they would have been destroyed in a kill shelter, but it just sounds so haughty.  So sad that the human race believes they have a right to toss away a life because some stupid human ran out of patience or had a lack of understanding that they refused to correct.  Even with that said, I still imagine a "rescue" as someone hanging from a helicopter over the ocean grabbing a struggling drowning victim.  Then there are those moments when Melie looks at me and I can see the part of her soul that has been to the bottom of the ocean and I understand why the term 'rescue' works!  Sigh.  Ok OK...drama-queen soapbox aside and on with the story!

New roads have led me away from dog rescue temporarily and into human rescue (if you'll permit me to use that already established arrogant term).  My Melie and Toby won't have foster canine siblings for a while, instead they have an adorable white-haired grandma who they are in the process of training.  They follow her protectively everywhere she totters around the house, although from an outsider's perspective it probably looks a little like wild dogs stalking a wounded deer.  They've trained her to give love and head-scratches in trade for not barking at the mailman or the neighbor children.  She's trained them that wrestling loudly with each other is rewarded by the door to the back yard opening.  Best of all they've trained her that if she wants to share her lunch with them, the best way to tell them is to get up and go into the next room leaving the lunch on her end table.  Grandma has been a pretty good sport, I must admit, considering she has never had dogs.

I probably should back up the story a moment and tell you how Grandma became part of the rescue pack.  Sometime before Christmas in the Fall of 2013, the exact day/month escapes me like one long nightmare, Mom (aka: Grandma) had a series of strokes.  Two recognized episodes and several other smaller ones that were found in the tests done later at the hospital.  Being in the medical field I was ashamed to find I was incredibly naive about strokes and how they can damage the brain.  The stroke victim dragging a half paralyzed body with impaired speech is really as far as my imagination and understanding went.  When I was 16 and worked in a nursing home, those were the stroke victims I cared for, the extreme cases.

Grandma's strokes were TIAs (Transient Ischemic Attacks) or sometimes called the 'mini-stroke'.  Mini or not, when they happen like fireworks in several spots through the brain, as in this case, the damage is still showing it's ugly colors even to this day.  The first sign was confusion, the kind of confusion a very drunk person feels and exhibits.  Considering my little Christian Mama doesn't drink, we knew something was very wrong.  Then her sight faded to almost nothing.  At one point she did have a slight droop in her smile just on one side and a headache, however she was still in denial about what was happening.  She asked my Sister to help her get ready for work, but luckily my Sister is a bright bird and took her to the ER instead.

A month later she was finally released from the rehab center where they determined she would be safe to live on her own.  She admitted later that she had them all fooled about her capabilities and that she was actually scared to death to go home.  In one of her eyes part of the sight was returning and the confusion seemed better every day, but cognitive skill loss is not as easily assessed apparently.  Her reasoning skills, decision making, confidence, and coping skills were damaged as well.  Short term memory was (and still is) a problem, but we decided with a schedule and two daughters reminding her to take all of her new meds, she was confident that she could handle it alright.   Her social graces, like in an Alzheimer's victim, were still strong, so who knew she wouldn't be able to administer her medicine safely or ever pay her own bills again?  She tried to protect us all against how much damage was really there.

When the holidays died down and everyone started back to work and school things began to crumble and we realized Mom wasn't going to make it living on her own.  At night, mostly due to her sight loss, she would panic and insisted someone sleep over with her.  That quickly grew old while trying to manage our own lives as well.  I don't blame her for being afraid, I mean she is also diabetic and has enough nerve damage in her feet and legs that she can't feel them.  It would be a bit like walking on stilts while blindfolded.  Somehow her fear and reactions still seemed too extreme, like a child who believes monsters are in their closet, she started spiraling into full panic attacks.  We knew something would need to change, just not where to start.  

One afternoon I came in to bring her groceries and she didn't hear me come in.  She was in her chair not moving and just staring at a blank wall with a sad far away glaze over her eyes.  I saw fear and confusion and then she saw me and painted on a happy face.  She said "Hi", but then asked me what day it was.  My stomach dropped and at that moment I knew she couldn't live alone safely.  This amazingly creative woman, mother, & elementary school librarian was just a shell of her former self and my heart broke at the recognition of the unseen brain damage.   Arrangements started quickly and within a couple of weeks she was a new pack member at the Snow house.

The first days she spent alone with the dogs I was a nervous wreck.  Would Melie knock her over accidentally?  Would she step on little Toby?  Would she let them escape out into the neighborhood?  It's been about two months and so far all are still alive. :) At first the dogs were timid and unsure of this slow moving creature attached to tubes and a loud oxygen machine.  They started following her around, it seemed very sweet at first, like a protective nature.  Then I realized that as she got up, little things like sunflower seeds would fall from her house coat...so they were just straight up snack stalking her!

Usually I leave early and get home after dark from work, but one Saturday I was puttering when the dogs (mostly Melie) starting barking like crazy out the front window.  Grandma said (in super sweet little old lady voice) "Melie. Calm. You are ok. Be calm & come here."  To my surprise she stopped barking and went to Mom's chair, put her head on the arm and waited.  Ear scratches and head tickles followed, then Melie wandered off to go about her business.  I was amazed!  Damn that grandma super power force was strong in this one!  After that I stopped worrying, they had a system worked out and it looked like everyone was happy.  However, I'm still questioning who was training who...sort of seemed like Melie was conducting the Operant conditioning on Grandma.

The three "rescues" hanging out together during the day has cut the anxiety dramatically for both Grandma and the dogs.  No more midnight calls from a scared grandma and no more obsessive chewing from the dogs while we are at work and school.  A few times I've found little things that belong to Mom out on the back lawn, like tissue boxes or a chap stick.  We're still working on the little Melie thief taking advantage of a half blind woman, but for the most part things are OK.  My teenager, however is now married to the Xbox in her bedroom for much of her free time...but that's another story for another day.  She too has been very patient and supportive of the new pack order in her home.

As for me, the much anticipated break in time between raising children and caring for a parent has disappeared.  I suppose the 'cougar' years will wait.  At least I hope they will wait, I refuse to go straight from Mom to a Golden Girl!  Time will tell.

Love Always, the Pack Leader

Melie, the Dog who patched my Heart

Melie, short for Melinoe (Mel in O) the Greek Goddess with two faces, came into our lives in February of 2013.  She is a rescue dog, who ended up rescuing my heart and this is our story.

Hundreds of pictures of dogs hit my facebook wall everyday and I love keeping up on what the rescue groups are doing to help all over the country.   RSQ Dogs posted a plea for some pups up at the Roosevelt shelter in rural Utah, just a couple of hours from us.  One of the dogs was a young female Pit-mix with a large bloody abscess on the side of her face...from the moment I saw her our lives were intertwined.  She looked afraid, skinny, and obviously hurt.  Here I am, a "cat person" (who has only given my heart to one dog in my whole life) looking into the eyes of this sweet soul and I was a goner!  She needed me.

Our family dog Daisy (my small soul sister) had recently past away and I'd started fostering dogs.  It was working out well, love them and let them move on, not letting them in too deep into my heart, a heart that was still missing Daisy every day.  

I replied immediately that we would take this pup from Roosevelt as a foster if one of the rescue groups would sponsor her.  CAWS of Utah stepped up and have been amazing every step of the way!  With a direction for this little broken gal, the shelter agreed not to put her down.  She was in bad shape and we were heading towards the weekend when the shelter would be closed.  Of course, because we live in ski country, it snowed.  Hours and a mountain away from us, storm after storm, this sweet animal sat and waited for three days.  We went out of our minds with worry that she would die before we could get to her.  There was something about this dog I loved already.  It even crossed my mind to buy an SUV that week!

Finally an angel arranged by RSQ, forgive me for not remembering her name, made the drive and rescued the Roosevelt dogs.  Their safe arrival in the Salt Lake Valley was like fireworks for the soul!  

Our Pit-baby went straight to the VCA Animal hospital in Taylorsville (just outside of SLC) who took amazing care of her. She couldn't come home yet, her medical condition would be more intense than any of us had guessed. They discovered when they tried to drain her abscess, it was actually hard as a rock and her jaw was sealed shut.  That's why she was starving to death. (Well that and her stupid humans who let it go way too long before reaching out for help!)  The hospital shaved her cheek so they could see the problem and do a biopsy and blood work.  The growth was solid bone and it was a heart-breaking discovery. We started to wonder if she could be saved.  Was it a birth defect?  Cancer?

I stopped to meet her at the animal hospital and found a very skinny, very weak pup who was immediately showing signs of affection and gratitude to the people helping her.  They estimated she was 9 months old and only 19 lbs.  The malnutrition was obvious, not just the spine and ribs showing poking through, but her fur was in bad shape too.  She was able to eat soft food from a can by sticking her tongue past her teeth and lapping it up.  They started her on a high protein & vitamin diet.

The x-rays confirmed the solid mass was bone.  It was a rare case and we were pleased that every doc at the VCA was pulled in to help and consult.  They started her on an antibiotic to await test result. Two days later they called to say she could be released to her foster family.  Unfortunately, the day she was released I was flying to CA for a short business trip.  We'd never anticipated the wait time and it killed me to fly away from her, but I knew she was in good hands. My awesome kids, who had been anxious for her to come home too, took on the first couple of hard days.  Within an hour, I handed her off to Nate (who was a life saver and gave her a much needed bath) and then I jumped on a plane.  Our Stephanie (17) came up with the name Melinoe, it totally fit and Melie (Mel-Lee) stuck.  After landing in CA I had a frantic call from my Kendra (19) who had the pleasure of discovering Melie had worms. Which were first believed to be a hallucination or a paranormal poop! Ha ha!  (I still owe you one for that one Kendie)  Poor thing probably ate anything and everything to stay alive.  Quick call to VCA and they had her set up with more meds.   Between the meds and the high protein food her insides cleared up quickly.  

Every day she got a little stronger and more playful.  She watched sadly when the other dogs played with ropes or a ball, she still couldn't open her mouth.  We worried about her choking or vomiting and she couldn't clean herself at all.  Frequent baths helped and even though she could finish a can of soft food at the speed of light she never did gag or choke enough to scare us.  She was a mess, but so lovable that we all attached to her pretty quickly.  After a week we received word from VCA that the biopsy was negative for cancer and that it was just a severe infection so they increased her antibiotics.  Slowly the bone receded and within about a month it wasn't gone, but she could open her mouth!
  

I've never seen pride in dog's eyes (that's a human emotion right?), but I saw it that first day she could pick up a ball with her mouth.  Her infection had been there long enough that her skin growth was still trying to catch up with her now opening jaw...so it was a tight fit to get that tennis ball in!  After that she was up and running, crunchy food, toys and of course the occasional shoe.  She never did become a crazy face licking dog, in fact it was like some of her development was stunted because she couldn't put everything and anything in her mouth.  She recognized us as bringers of food and love, but we weren't really part of her pack (see below Melie pictured with her canine foster brother and sister).  She was, and still is, totally non-aggressive with people, but we needed her to learn to relate to us too.  One afternoon I was coming up the stairs to find her getting into something and I said "Melie No!" (her full name comes in handy when she's in trouble lol)  Because she and I were at eye level, I saw it register and she understood who the pack leader was...from then on she's been a very good listener and has started paying attention to the people more.  

After 3 months of antibiotics Mel went to see a new doc for new X-rays and an extra opinion about how to proceed.  The new pictures showed an amazing transformation, but according to the Vet she would still need antibiotics for a few more months to get the infection cleared from the bone.  Below is a side by side of the before and after!  Amazing progress!  Other things were moving in the right direction too.  Her itchy, brittle, mite-infested spots of fur sprang to life and a beautiful brindle coat came in like shiny marble.  Nineteen pounds became fourty-five!  

Our skinny puppy needed her collar adjusted often as she became taller and broader.  Even though we had called her a Pit-mix, she was looking more and more like a heeler or Shep-mix.  She played hard with the kids and our dogs, hikes, trips to the park, and even learned to jump on the trampoline. She was doing ok sleeping in a crate, but with little Toby sleeping on my big bed I soon softened up and she ended up on the foot of my bed every night with Toby.  Daytime was and still is a totally different story, she panics in a crate and barks constantly.  Without knowing any history on her we wonder if she was over-caged as a little one.  Even with the crate issues, she potty trained immediately.  Other training like 'sit', 'stay' has been tough because she doesn't understand why anyone would hide a piece of food in their hand and not give it to her.  She is smart, but she gives up on waiting for the treat and nervously runs away. Starving for so long must have been horrible for her.  Sometimes her behavior resembles a person with post-traumatic stress disorder.  She's a brave fighter and every day she seems to heal a little more emotionally and physically.  Melie has learned a handful of words and she behaves very well if she knows what is expected.  Things like bed, dinner, outside, & walk...just say the word and she's there!  She is happy and calm as long as she's not alone.  After I lost Daisy I didn't want to be alone either, so having a shadow has been good for us both.  Even if I'm in the shower she is waiting on the mat for me. :)  Oh and when the Xbox is being played she's totally happy snoozing on Steph's hip for hours.

It's been six months now and Melie has finished her intense course of antibiotics.  Her jaw seems to have stabilized and thankfully she is healthy and beautiful.  It breaks my heart, but it's time for Melie to find her fur-ever home.  Our family is changing, kids going off to college and this little one deserves to be with a family who can train her and be with her more time during the day.  Writing this has taken two weeks.  I want people to hear her story and learn what I have, but I know this will touch someone and the angels will guide her to her new best friend and I will miss her terribly.

Dogs are intelligent beautiful animals who have their own language, emotions, and purpose on this planet.  They have an innate loyalty that I've never seen in any other creature, humans included.  I'm a cat person, who fell in love with a dog.  Losing that dog broke me and it took another dog, our little foster Melie to fix me.  So you see we owe each other a life debt and I finally understand "who rescued who?".

Thank you Melinoe