Alaska

Alaska has his own band of Guardian Angels, the ones with the big wings that spread wide to help save his life last January when his gut was blocked by a large piece of blue rubber and his hours were numbered. The Reaper was waiting. Not to be. I reached out, blindly, but with purpose, and found that I also had Angels, and they continued to call in the support to Mt. View, so that within a very short time, the surgery had begun. By the next morning, over $2000 had been raised for Mr. Alaska, who now romps about the house, having been saved for a second time in his life. Over a year ago, a plea had gone out for a dog named Lucky, who was at that time in the King County Animal Shelter. He had failed a temperament test, having bit at the plastic hand poked at him while he ate from his bowl. He had to go into rescue, not to an individual. Who would take this (un) Lucky dog? He became my first official foster, and he was a mess. He is not what the vets call a thrifty dog. Serious vaccine reactions, chronic Giardia, and overwhelming fearfulness. We fixed the physical issues over time, but Alaska never could overcome that initial bite reaction, unpredictable and unexpected. So he became a Stargazer special needs dog. Put into harness for the first time, he excelled, running fast, straight and true for miles. And then came Christmas, 2011. Vomit in the kennel, including large hunks of blue rubber, which later I realized, had come from a toy he had found in my truck on the last trip home from the vet, when he had his dental. Funds were and are short here at Stargazer, so we delayed on taking him in. Then, when he did go in, it appeared as if he was okay. But several weeks of ups and downs led to his near demise that one afternoon at Mt. View. But Life, Love, Luck, and Fabulous care from Mt. View intervened to save my Alaska. People are Good.

sometimes it is difficult

Sometimes it is difficult to get going on something, to move forward, to take that leap. Do the dogs fear movement? The answer is no. They eagerly move towards the new, charging forth without fear, unless of course, they have met something so huge in their life, that it has thwarted that forward motion. In fact, with dogs, it is mostly circuitous, around and about, retracing, re focusing, noticing this and that. Wanderers with no real destination, but rather a desire for exploration. And they do have the nose for it. Broken dogs need a secure home base from which to move out from. As do people. When that security falls apart, most of us have difficulty moving, let alone forward. We need to find that secure spot from which to spring forth and keep our noses following the good smells.

Bristol goes Home

Bristol went home yesterday, to her new family in northwest Washington. Here at Stargazer Siberian Husky Camp, this was a red letter day, since Bristol is the first foster to be placed. There was great joy in this placement, both from her new family, and from myself, knowing that she was going to a couple that found her lovely and perfect. Young, happy, beautiful, intelligent, kind, trusting, Bristol the Pistol they are calling her. Bristol was here at Stargazer for nearly a year and a half with not much interest shown in her by prospective adopters. I was waiting for the ones that would fall in love with her. There are strict guidelines for placement, in addition to a healthy amount of insight and intuition. Bristol arrived at Stargazer, not much more than a puppy, thin, frightened, wild, and not trusting anyone. She had been taken away from her mother too early, so was not well dog socialized, and had not been given adequate attention in her human home, and so did not pay much attention to anything. The Stargazer Siberians begin to work their special dog magic, and throughout the following months, she began to unwind, build strength, both inner and outer, use her brain and learn to trust. For all her bravado, this girl is a sweet and gentle spirit. As she got stronger, I ran her with Alaska on my scooter, and the two of these cinnamon Siberians pulled me gaily down the trail. Her life will change now. She has gone home from camp to learn a new routine with her new family which includes a Queensland Terrier, a cute little fella who matches Bristol in energy and temperament. Stargazer gave her the much needed respite that was required to allow this little soul to flower. I don't require the dogs here to follow a strict regime, we have a routine, we have good manners, we do not encourage swallowing rubber toys that will cause obstructions...see next blog. We learn to play with each other, and find our dogness once again. Many of us are special needs dogs, that require a permanent position here, but a few are able to move on. As Camp Director, I am very protective of my four legged friends, and I wondered how I would feel about Bristol's departure. After all, I am a brilliant foster failure. This time, I was not. The reward is in the faces of the new family as they begin to bond in what will be a lifetime friendship. I do miss this little girl, as I look around and see the toys that she would chase endlessly on the deck, and her little heart shaped face. Mourn and rejoice that Bristol has found her Home.

Red Devil

On Christmas Eve 2011, it will be three months since I lost Devil. Smiling Red Devil with Boots of Silver, my D, my favorite. Thus far, I have not been able to write any piece of this end story, as the hurt runs so deep. We lost Flare last spring, then Willy the cat, then TinkerBelle, but when we lost D, something broke inside of me. He was my second Siberian, and he filled our house with so much life. We never knew him as old, although he was at least 11 or 12. He was always just our D, our policeman, our favorite. This is the dog who had dozens and dozens of near death fights with Sparky, my first Siberian and the spoiled rotten king of the house. I have written of when they met. And now, there will be no more fights, no more shouting at each other, no more growling and carrying on with each other. There is something terribly amiss in my household, with my Devil gone. That fateful day, the last thing he did before he was led out of the exam room, was to pull back from Rhonda, and shove his head between my legs, to say goodbye, or to say, "I don't want to go!" I replay that moment where I loved him up for the last time, feeling that big furry neck once more between my hands. I asked Rhonda if there was anything to worry about, but of course not. He was fine, except for those mineralized ball bits in his stomach that were making him sick, and except for the terrible damage done to his neck and spine over the years from those awful fights. But he had just played with his ball, he gave us toothy kisses, he barked like a seal for his dinner. He policed the house dogs and came over to me for loving. D was another one of my dogs that did not like you to pet him too much. He enjoyed some good head rubbing and wooling was fine, but stay away from my hips and legs, and never, never touch my feet. D never came home. After a successful surgery, he began to bleed, and we could never get that bleeding to stop, even after three transfusions. We had to say goodbye at Tacoma Pet Emergency, and it was a very long goodbye. Devil was tired, and by then, I guess, he was ready to go. All I wanted to do was put him in my truck and take him home. He would be fine, he was always fine. Not this time. His leaving was as difficult as he could be under the best conditions. Horrible, awful nightmare of dying. Don't ever believe it is easy, it is not. Leaving this world can be as much of a struggle as coming into it. After he was gone, his crate became his shrine. D loved his crate and was well known for hiding all manner of things in the back of it. We talked to him constantly, and still talk to him. He was such a huge presence in this household of 27 Siberians. A gentle giant, it was true. Noble, handsome, intelligent, stubborn, loving, and had issues:)) We have allowed Tenzing to move into D's crate, but the other dogs have chewed on Devil's bed, so I gave it to Ibis, who was my foster that came in with cancer, and will leave me soon with cancer. But she does not know that. D knew though, and so did I. I now think of he and Tink playing as puppies once again in the green fields and snowy pastures across the Bridge.
I also think of that last goodbye. And await our final hello, when I too cross the Bridge to take the team back once again.

Amber

Amber is a small, gray cat who has been part of my life for six years now. I have only touched Amber once, when I caught her in the live trap and took her to Mountain View to have her spayed and receive her Rabies vaccination. I would guess she was about one then. I first met Amber and Ed in the fall of 2005 when I bought my home out on the Deschutes River outside of Rainier, Wa. She had been left at the home with a male cat whom I named Ed. Ed and Amber, named after the previous owners of the house. Ed disappeared that first year, but Amber, my little friend that I can never touch, is still here. She appears like clockwork every morning, a small gray shadow in the shrubbery beyond the hen house. I fill her small bowl with kibble, and keep the chickens in their corralled yard until she finishes eating. I see her seldom at any other time. After the snow comes, I will see her small cat prints leading from under the garden shed over to the chicken shed where she eats up on a shelf and out of the weather. Many times, I have thought she was gone, but she always comes back. I have considered bringing her in the house with the other cats, or perhaps giving her a permanent home in the Musher's Cabin, but she is wild, of the wild, and will know no cage. Amber bore two litters of kittens. The first tiny three babies brought such joy to me. She had them out under the shed. I carefully watched them grow, and saw that they needed to go to the vet. They had Ringworm, Herpes, and unfortunately FIP. So we had to euthanize those three sweet babies; Sprite, Squirt and Fuzzball. That event broke my heart so much, that even though I knew I needed to have Amber spayed, I waited too long and once again she bore three little kits. Two gray, like her, and one dark tabby. I named them Cougar, Lord Greystoke, and I forget the third. They grew and were wild little creatures, but they had the misfortune to come and play in an old wood stove in the dog yard, where the dogs found them. Poor little things, first one, and then Cougar. They gave the dogs ringworm on their noses and faces. Again, a sad ending. But, we still had Lord Greystoke or Tarzan as my vet, Rhonda, likes to call him. That silly little boy would follow me around the driveway, and throw himself at me,as if he was saying, "Take me home, Sue." So unlike his mother, who would hide at the sight of me or any human. I took him home. He too, had the ringworm, but he lived in the Musher's Cabin for a long time, until he was clean, and then he came into the house and joined the other Stargazer cats in the cat room, safe from all dogs and predators. I captured his Mama that one time. She was a hurricane of fear in the exam room, but she survived, and was spayed. That time she was carrying five kittens. I felt so blessed when both Lord G and Amber's bloodwork came back free from Feline Leukemia. Amber lives on. I may capture her again, as I think she could use a dental and a look over.
We have been having cold, clear weather here in Rainier, and the pellet stove has been burning non stop. I emptied out the ash tray, which still had some live coals burning. Normally, I take that out to the fire pit, but this time, I dumped it in the garden. The next morning, I watched Bullet sitting on the deck, staring intently over in that direction. Often that will mean, Amber is about, or the free range chickens. All I saw was a plume of smoke, wisping lazily into the air. Those live coals had kept smoldering overnight. In my mind, I saw a little gray cat, sitting on her haunches, holding her front paws up and warming herself by the fire. Such a happy thought for me. I hope for Amber, that she has a nice cozy hidey hole somewhere on my property, keeping her dry,warm, and safe, as I continue to feed her like clockwork in the morning for many years to come.

Raining hard here today

Winter has arrived at Stargazer. I am reminded of the adage about the creek rising...my thoughts are more targeted towards the sump pumps operating after several months down time. The heavy rains begin in November and run through February although I have had the basement flooded as late as April. Living in a bowl alongside a river requires working with the flow. Today, I am waiting for my crumb topped cherry pie to come out of the oven, which I will be taking to book group. Tonight's read, "Having Our Say", by the Delaney sisters, who are both approaching 100 years old. They tell their story of growing up in North Carolina, moving to Harlem, becoming a teacher and a dentist and living their lives within a black culture, totally insular, and quite at variance with the surrounding white world. So a cherry pie is a bit like Southern food, although pecan would be better. The kennel dogs are all tucked in the barns, warm and dry. The house dogs are all crated up except for Gar, the American Pit Bull Terrier, who prefers his alone time. His story will come later. Of the 28 dogs here at Stargazer, 13 live in the house, with often a kennel dog and a foster dog visiting. That is a lot of crates...and mud...which requires me to be constantly changing out towels and every so often using the old fashioned rag and hot water to wash the tile. I find this works better than the mop, as the mop strings are always getting caught up in the crate wires. I realized today that half this crew would not pass house training. I just don't get it. If that dog door is shut for five minutes, suddenly everyone has to pee. Now if there was not a dog door, the dogs would go to the door, and woof or scratch or ring the bell ( not mine, but friend's do this), but here they just seem to forget that little step and just let loose. I love tile and laminate. Not all of them do this, but some do, and I must say, the some are all male.

Having lost Flare, Willy, Tink, and Devil in the past 7 months, I am now looking at losing another dog, Ibis. She arrived here as a foster for Seattle Purebred Dog Rescue in July from Thurston County Animal Services. She is a lovely grey, stunning blue eyes, around 10 years old with severe dysplasia, spondylosis, and cancer. Last summer, a 5 pound tumor was dangling off of her abdomen, swinging like a cumbersome grapefruit when she walked or ran. Removal of this mass by my favorite vets at Mt. View, along with another tumor that was an aggressive form of mammary cancer, gave her a new outlook on life. She leaps, and runs and digs like a 2 year old. She is a song mistress, wooing and cooing and talking to me. She is happy to have me, a home, a crate of her own. No longer a foster, she became a Stargazer when it was found that the cancer had metastasized into the lymph nodes. Not too much time left for this old girl, and I do not have the time table, but I do have the time and the desire to give her some good ol' loving, and maybe even a taste of my cherry pie.

Acu-poke-ture

Deedle..D..Red Devil..played today!! Briefly and joyfully he played with the Cuz ball. It has been so long since he played. Must have been that acu-poke-ture he had at Mt. View on Friday. Devil is the second Stargazer. He arrived before we knew we were Stargazer Siberians. His story begins, long ago, in Bellingham, where he roamed wild in Whatcom County, honing his skills of egg eating, pop drinking, and the policing of all miscellaneous dog activity. In those days, as now, D had 'issues'. The nice lady running Preferred Animal Services understood this, and while Devil was visiting that shelter, she purchased him an Igloo, so he could hide from the other dogs. Gail Roberts had posted a picture of Siberian Boy, in which she asked for help for this guy, as he had 'issues'. I had only one Siberian at that time, Sparky, who taught me everything about the breed in a few short months, including the love and joy that this breed brings to me. Sparky needed a teammate, so I was looking for another dog. Siberian Boy was a young, black and white male with the wide open white face, and freckles, that I have grown to love. His eyes, brilliant blue, broadcasted mischievious trouble. We liked that face, a lot, so off we drove to Bellingham in my blue and silver Suburban named Sirius, with Sparky, otherwise known as Mr. Snarly Growl Face, an intact yearling, spoiled brat, favorite, only dog, accompanying us. As the story unfolded, we arrived at the shelter with a specially chosen bag of squeaky toys. We met Mr Siberian Boy, and while I went to look at the second Siberian there, Will introduced D to the bag of toys. 30 seconds later, all toys had been ripped and de squeaked and by the time I returned, Mr S B was looking for something else to destroy. "Of course, we will take him. We love him!" While I filled out paperwork, Will tried to take the 'issue' dog on a walk. He was very strong, nearly pulling Willy off of his feet. I was hopeful at this pulling strength, wanting another sled dog. Little did I know, that the second 'issue' we would encounter would be a luxating patella otherwise known as a slipping knee cap. Not so good in a running dog. Please understand, we were quite new to this Siberian world, having come from the world of normal dogs, and so we were making quite a few mistakes that day. And here came the biggest mistake, we put Devil in the car with Sparky, separated by a gate and an Igloo, but none the less in the same vehicle, which proceeded to suffer horrendous damage as the two dogs met through the gate, and immediately began to try to kill each other. Foam and fabric flew through the air, as the terrible shouting and growling continued. The dog with 'issues' went into his Igloo and our special Sparky continued to rip foam and fabric out of the back seat for the entire 3 hour ride back to Lacey. Sirius carries those scars to this day. Speaking of scars, these two dogs have continued to have these kind of fights, horrible, frightening, life threatening fights, thousands of dollars kind of fights, to this day. Sparky and Siberian Boy who soon became Red Devil, named after an Alaskan town, with a fire theme, are two of the most beloved friends here at Stargazer. They are so dear to us, but if I knew then what I know now, Siberian Boy would have gone to that nice couple coming up from Whidbey Island. We did make it home that day, to our log cabin in Lacey, with Sparky on a leash in the car, and with Will screaming, "He is going to kill Sparky," and I am thinking, "Lord, what have I done?" No, I believe it was more like, "Could everyone just SHUT UP!!!" There are so many chapters in this dog's tale, but I will skip to the present, where after those 53 fights or more, Devil is crippled with arthritis in his neck, shoulders, knees and back. He has Horner's syndrome which causes his right eye, already cloudy with corneal dystrophy,to move in and out of its socket as his nerves are tweaked, renal disease that is controlled with diet, and high anxiety, as our house fills up with many more Siberians. At first, we would tell D that his girlfriend was coming. Tink was supposed to be his girlfriend, as Mikasa ("I was third!") was Sparky's girlfriend, but, well, that did not work out so much. D would continue to police and claim his space. As you well know, the loudest are often the most sensitive, and that is the case with this dog. His sweetness is deep and dear. He has always loved a squeaky ball which he would mouth vigorously with loud squeaks for a few minutes, then bite that ball, pull the squeaker out, and look for the next ball to appear, which it often did, as I would feed his habit by buying him a six pack at Pet Smart. One day, Devil was vomiting, and not feeling so well. Films of his abdomen showed something in there obstructing the flow of things. Mineralized ball bits were embedded in his intestines, so, following surgery, no more balls. This has not really mattered, as Devil has retired more and more to his crate, from which he hollers out expletives at any who dare to come too close. Even a normal trip to the vet requires a Rimadyl the next day, and a walk up the block means he won't be able to hold his head up in a few hours. A recent fight was one of the worst, as Sparky now knows to grab D by the neck and not let go. These two dogs just do not like each other and never will. Most of the time, they keep their distance, but a simple nuance in a slightly charged atmosphere will set them off. Similar to people who just can't get along, these two dogs are best kept out of sight and mind. They have struck some semblance of peace over the years but the the fights continue and will continue unto the death bed. The big issue was and still is, Sparky is #1 and always will be. Devil is #2 and will always want to be #1. Doesn't work that way, with people or dogs. Bragging rights are what they are fighting for. Thus we come to the acupuncture, or acu-poke-ture as we told D he would be receiving. Acupuncture and chiropracty are two healing modes that really help the dogs. Tink received acupuncture for years from an out of town vet. I had taken Devil to Dr. Schaeffer once, but he was so tense, he popped all the needles out. They literally flew across the room so that was the first and last time. Dr. Joanne Salloom, one of my Mt. View vets has been studying canine acupuncture and has now reached the time of needing patients. Several of the dogs here are candidates, but Devil was at the top of the list. We booked the appointment, and of course, I told everyone about the other time, when he popped all the needles out. The staff all know D at Mountain View, very loud, and barks like a seal. Yes, barks like a seal. We all shared private chuckles at poor Dr. Salloom, having to work on D and his micro movements and his barking, and growling and snorting whenever a hair on his body is touched. "Don't touch me, I don't like that!" Side note, of which there are dozens: After his luxating patella surgery at one year old (another chapter), D developed cloudy eyes. He saw our superior Olympia opthalmologist, Dr. Penny Cooley and was told he had Corneal Dystrophy. Around here, we just say "cloudy", which they are, very, very cloudy, now that he is 12. He receives liquid tears in his eyes twice daily so they will not dry out and ulcerate or something just as awful. He is good at getting his eye salve, as he always gets a cookie, which is one reason, he is like Number 4 or 5 on the chart of what your dog ought to look like. From the aerial view, rather tube like. Penny Cooley is another special doctor. I had thought, prior to our first meeting, how will she be able to tap on his eyes and examine him. But healers are healers and they have the magic. I am blessed by these brilliant people who work with my animals. The current of healing runs through them, and the animals respond. Devil sat quite still as Dr. Cooley worked on his eyes so long ago, and every year since. I did not think it would be this way with the needles. As we went into the exam room at Mt. View, Devil was a little worried and shook a bit, as we waited. This was our home ground though, familiar and calm. Dr. Salloom entered the room, and we told her some of D's story. She is not our regular vet, so she does not know him as well. Joanne and I usually seem to meet on a dark, frozen winter night at 2am with one of the dogs being in crisis. Did I mention that the Scofield dogs and cats have their own shelf at Mt. View? Yes, we are indeed special. She approached D, stroked his back, he lay down, and she calmly began to work. He lay there like the sweet Devil he is, as she gently applied the needles and worked on him. Only when she reached his front feet, was he reluctant, so she stopped. Calmly and quietly he waited while the healer worked with him. As this is a training stage for her, we discussed how I will monitor him, and give her feedback. She recommended giving him his Adequan shot (liquid Glucosamine), but I thought I would wait and not change anything in his daily protocol while I am observing the after effects of the acupuncture. We said good bye, he became his loud, barking seal self, clawing at the door, and we came on home. I was on alert. How would this work, would it help, how would he feel? He kept to himself in his crate most of the rest of that day. The next day, I watched, as he moved very slowly about the yard. Normally, he would have been very stiff and sore from a vet visit like that. His slowness was not one of stiffness, but one of relaxing, of slowing down emotionally, of unwinding. He was calmer and moved with a certain peacefulness. I continued to watch him. He sat by his crate and did not police. He was decompressing, he was relaxing, he was less anxious, and... he played with his ball. For just a few minutes, he played, he scooted the ball around, he chewed on the ball, he played with his ball. I put all the other dogs away as we watched our dear Devil play with his ball. It had been years since this happened. Only for a few minutes. This was enough, his leg started shaking and he was tired. Today, he has been out of his crate,and he is more himself than he has been in years. We love our D. We do not like seeing him old. We do not like to see him get hurt. We had a few moments of secret and overwhelming joy and delight as we watched our old boy play. He will be going back to acu-poke-ture with one of the best vets around. We are so lucky to have these people in our life.