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Jan. 17th, 2010 01:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pacificpikachuToday was filled with rescue! And was a fairly thoughtful day as well. Kind of a long and unexciting entry, but...er, sort of introspective in a way?
I called about the pintail duck in the morning and found a place for him to go. It was all the way down near Graylodge, but no worries--after talking to the man who runs this duck facility, I was certain this was where the duck needed to go, so I told him I'd be down there as soon as I could after helping with the puppy adoptions at AnimalSave.
I was planning on eating something more substantial than crackers before leaving for the adoptions, but while feeding Suzi, she managed to get my finger through the cage. She just got off a little bit of skin on my thumb near my thumbnail, but it bled and bled and bled for some reason. Again, I don't hold it against Suzi, she's just being herself, but it was inconvenient timing to be bleeding incessantly, haha. I ended up holding kleenex to my thumb while driving, trying to get it to clot, and thankfully there were band-aids at AnimalSave. It was much less of a concern and annoyance once it had mostly stopped bleeding and a band-aid was on it.
At the puppy adoptions, I snuggled with Honey and talked to the foster parent of the puppies for the three hours we were there. :) She's my age, soft-spoken, and loves animals and anime. Seems like a sweet person. The puppies themselves are naturally adorable--some sort of lab/rottweiler/border collie/whippet (?!)/who knows what mutts, and they looked exactly like I imagine Tia would have looked as a puppy, complete with the little white spot on their chests. Their names are Clyde, Dollie, and Violet. Not many people came by, but one family was fairly interested in one of the girls and later someone came who was interested in Clyde. More on that in a little bit.
Debra (foster coordinator, and a very kind person. I've known her for years!), Kaitlin (foster parent), and I took the three pups for their first official leashed walk, which was entertaining and fun. They balked some as one would expect, but overall they were great. Debra told me on the walk that her dog Angel passed away from cancer about a month ago, which saddened me a lot. Debra gave up being able to have foster dogs or additional dogs herself so she could keep Angel, who was a pit bull with dog aggression, and it was obvious how much she loved her. It reminded me of my life with Tia, which was a similar situation.
When we got back from the walk and put the puppies back in the pen, a family came up complete with their dog and proceeded to fall in love with Clyde. Their dog was an adorable border collie/who knows what mix, very very sweet and soft and well-behaved, and they alerted us pretty quickly that she was dying of cancer and didn't have much time left. Her stomach was distended from blood pooling in her abdomen, and by the sound of it she doesn't have more than a week or so left. Still, she was incredibly lively and filled with love and spirit--not at all frail or sad-looking or anything of the sort. If not for her stomach, one would never even guess that she was older--much less dying. They said they were on their way to San Francisco to take her to the beach for the last time. They didn't say any of this sadly, but you could just tell how deeply they loved this dog. Even just spending ten or fifteen minutes with her, she felt like she had an extraordinary spirit, something special. Maybe just from being loved so much.
Clyde licked all their faces and was generally an adorable goof, and they sounded like they were almost certainly going to adopt him soon. Anyway, it touched me on a deep level. I don't know, there was just so much overwhelming love in that situation. The dog who was dying but filled with life, the family who adored her so much, the puppy who will most likely join their family soon enough.
I left right at about 3 PM and went to get the duck at mom's, and drove down to Graylodge thoughtfully and silently with Honey at my side (Honey's always at my side, she's almost physically attached to me). The man who took the duck, Darryl, has a great facility on his property with ponds and enclosures for injured and hatched ducks. Also, duck things everywhere--duck statues, duck crossing signs, wood duck boxes, and so on. The pintail went in the enclosure with a muscovy duck and a pair of wood ducks, and he looked very relieved to be away from me and have plenty of space to move about. I'm sure whenever he discovers the pond in there he'll be ecstatic. He was limping a bit and his wing was hanging a little (indicative of a probable break), but I feel like he'll be much better off healing in that enclosure than he would be in someone's house no matter how excellent the medical care. The stress and unhappiness would simply be too much. Even if he never flies again, there he will be able to live and have a great quality of life near others of his kind.
After we got the pintail settled, Darryl and I talked about birds for a while and had a great time. Darryl is an older man, probably in his seventies, but it was clear how much he loved caring for the ducks and telling me about them. He said he will raise and rehabilitate the ducks as long as he possibly can because it's what he loves to do. He gave me a tour of his very impressive collection of incubators (definitely enough incubators to hatch a few thousand eggs, easily) and the facilities in general. It was very pleasant visiting him--it made me happy to see an older person continuing to do what they love and clearly enjoying it, and devoting his life to making the lives of other animals better. It encouraged me. I was in a happy and thoughtful mood on the way home, and it was quite beautiful out.
When I got home I plopped down on the couch because I was quite exhausted, and watched Underdog to Wonderdog on Animal Planet. It was an episode about a beautiful black and white sheltie who was neurotic and overly energetic in the shelter, and how they trained him to tolerate horses (he was going to be adopted by a family on a horse ranch) and restrain himself and he turned into the most handsome, well-behaved, happy dog. The family was thrilled with him and they kept crying with joy on the day they adopted him. At the end of the episode, they had an announcement saying that a few months after he was adopted, he was struck and killed by a car. This hit me hard for some reason and made me fairly upset, and I started crying. I'm not entirely sure why--I guess it just seemed so tragic that after his rescue, all that hard work and joy, it would end like that. He was so gorgeous. I'm sure it doesn't help that my first dog was a sheltie, and he was black and white like a border collie. It still kind of upsets me to think of it hours later, to be honest.
I don't know, today felt like it was all about love and loss. More about love than loss, but loss was certainly in there, too, several times. It felt important, even if that importance manifested itself in small ways.
Anyway, I'm going to go snuggle with Honey now.
I called about the pintail duck in the morning and found a place for him to go. It was all the way down near Graylodge, but no worries--after talking to the man who runs this duck facility, I was certain this was where the duck needed to go, so I told him I'd be down there as soon as I could after helping with the puppy adoptions at AnimalSave.
I was planning on eating something more substantial than crackers before leaving for the adoptions, but while feeding Suzi, she managed to get my finger through the cage. She just got off a little bit of skin on my thumb near my thumbnail, but it bled and bled and bled for some reason. Again, I don't hold it against Suzi, she's just being herself, but it was inconvenient timing to be bleeding incessantly, haha. I ended up holding kleenex to my thumb while driving, trying to get it to clot, and thankfully there were band-aids at AnimalSave. It was much less of a concern and annoyance once it had mostly stopped bleeding and a band-aid was on it.
At the puppy adoptions, I snuggled with Honey and talked to the foster parent of the puppies for the three hours we were there. :) She's my age, soft-spoken, and loves animals and anime. Seems like a sweet person. The puppies themselves are naturally adorable--some sort of lab/rottweiler/border collie/whippet (?!)/who knows what mutts, and they looked exactly like I imagine Tia would have looked as a puppy, complete with the little white spot on their chests. Their names are Clyde, Dollie, and Violet. Not many people came by, but one family was fairly interested in one of the girls and later someone came who was interested in Clyde. More on that in a little bit.
Debra (foster coordinator, and a very kind person. I've known her for years!), Kaitlin (foster parent), and I took the three pups for their first official leashed walk, which was entertaining and fun. They balked some as one would expect, but overall they were great. Debra told me on the walk that her dog Angel passed away from cancer about a month ago, which saddened me a lot. Debra gave up being able to have foster dogs or additional dogs herself so she could keep Angel, who was a pit bull with dog aggression, and it was obvious how much she loved her. It reminded me of my life with Tia, which was a similar situation.
When we got back from the walk and put the puppies back in the pen, a family came up complete with their dog and proceeded to fall in love with Clyde. Their dog was an adorable border collie/who knows what mix, very very sweet and soft and well-behaved, and they alerted us pretty quickly that she was dying of cancer and didn't have much time left. Her stomach was distended from blood pooling in her abdomen, and by the sound of it she doesn't have more than a week or so left. Still, she was incredibly lively and filled with love and spirit--not at all frail or sad-looking or anything of the sort. If not for her stomach, one would never even guess that she was older--much less dying. They said they were on their way to San Francisco to take her to the beach for the last time. They didn't say any of this sadly, but you could just tell how deeply they loved this dog. Even just spending ten or fifteen minutes with her, she felt like she had an extraordinary spirit, something special. Maybe just from being loved so much.
Clyde licked all their faces and was generally an adorable goof, and they sounded like they were almost certainly going to adopt him soon. Anyway, it touched me on a deep level. I don't know, there was just so much overwhelming love in that situation. The dog who was dying but filled with life, the family who adored her so much, the puppy who will most likely join their family soon enough.
I left right at about 3 PM and went to get the duck at mom's, and drove down to Graylodge thoughtfully and silently with Honey at my side (Honey's always at my side, she's almost physically attached to me). The man who took the duck, Darryl, has a great facility on his property with ponds and enclosures for injured and hatched ducks. Also, duck things everywhere--duck statues, duck crossing signs, wood duck boxes, and so on. The pintail went in the enclosure with a muscovy duck and a pair of wood ducks, and he looked very relieved to be away from me and have plenty of space to move about. I'm sure whenever he discovers the pond in there he'll be ecstatic. He was limping a bit and his wing was hanging a little (indicative of a probable break), but I feel like he'll be much better off healing in that enclosure than he would be in someone's house no matter how excellent the medical care. The stress and unhappiness would simply be too much. Even if he never flies again, there he will be able to live and have a great quality of life near others of his kind.
After we got the pintail settled, Darryl and I talked about birds for a while and had a great time. Darryl is an older man, probably in his seventies, but it was clear how much he loved caring for the ducks and telling me about them. He said he will raise and rehabilitate the ducks as long as he possibly can because it's what he loves to do. He gave me a tour of his very impressive collection of incubators (definitely enough incubators to hatch a few thousand eggs, easily) and the facilities in general. It was very pleasant visiting him--it made me happy to see an older person continuing to do what they love and clearly enjoying it, and devoting his life to making the lives of other animals better. It encouraged me. I was in a happy and thoughtful mood on the way home, and it was quite beautiful out.
When I got home I plopped down on the couch because I was quite exhausted, and watched Underdog to Wonderdog on Animal Planet. It was an episode about a beautiful black and white sheltie who was neurotic and overly energetic in the shelter, and how they trained him to tolerate horses (he was going to be adopted by a family on a horse ranch) and restrain himself and he turned into the most handsome, well-behaved, happy dog. The family was thrilled with him and they kept crying with joy on the day they adopted him. At the end of the episode, they had an announcement saying that a few months after he was adopted, he was struck and killed by a car. This hit me hard for some reason and made me fairly upset, and I started crying. I'm not entirely sure why--I guess it just seemed so tragic that after his rescue, all that hard work and joy, it would end like that. He was so gorgeous. I'm sure it doesn't help that my first dog was a sheltie, and he was black and white like a border collie. It still kind of upsets me to think of it hours later, to be honest.
I don't know, today felt like it was all about love and loss. More about love than loss, but loss was certainly in there, too, several times. It felt important, even if that importance manifested itself in small ways.
Anyway, I'm going to go snuggle with Honey now.
