Gotta give my husband props. Every single week he gives these dogs his all. Whether he ends up covered in dog hair, dog saliva or mud, he's there. Plus, have you seen his play game? It is definitely on point.
Seriously though, dogs love Ron. Our two follow him around the house like he's their god, and compete to see who can snuggle up closest to him on the sofa. The shelter dogs sense something in him and quickly are put at ease.
Today's field trip dog, Gracie, was no exception to this rule. At first she was a little hesitant about the water, but with Ron's coaxing with a tennis ball, she quickly figured out that the river is fun.
Gracie
And then there were the kisses...
(If you cannot see the video below, please view it HERE.)
I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual today, given that Ron wrote Gracie a poem...
A Poem for Gracie
The river was cool, but so was she.
She romped on the banks with so much glee.
She paused and waited, while I tossed a muddy ball.
Then quickly and bravely gave it her all.
We saw right away that she's a playful pooch.
Has she gotten into a bottle of hooch?
Your white face bright and beaming, you're such a beauty, Gracie.
You're definitely cuter than Kevin Spacey.
You deserve a family who wants plenty of licks.
You will definitely have your pick.
So, there you are. She's a movie star who's receiving fan mail already!
Update: Gracie is safe in rescue but lots of other dogs are still waiting to meet you at Bradshaw.
Update: Buster was adopted the same day our video and blog were posted!
A kennel in the isolation ward at the shelter is no place to spend the 4th of July...especially not for a handsome, friendly firecracker like Buster.
You could tell by Buster's first reaction to us that he was ready to explode like a bottle rocket. He spun and leapt and shot from his kennel. This was a dog ready to paint the day red, white and blue.
Our destination, once again, was the river. I mean, who doesn't want to spend the fourth on a delightful beach, dangling your toes in a cool stream? Our boy Buster was a little reticent when he saw the crystal-clear waters of the American River. We weren't sure he was ready to take the plunge. But, hey, this was a holiday and he gently plodded along the river's edge, testing his courage. First, two paws, then four, then his furry belly.
Ahhhhh. The joy of patriotism, a cool river, and celebrating freedom - at least for a few hours.
Buster was gonna take his day of independence and make the best of it. He bounced proudly along the shady river trails. As we watched him explore from behind, we were quite amused by his curly-q-swirl of a tail. We'd never seen a tail quite like this, curling round itself like a cinnamon roll or a ballerina bun.
We stopped at a bench to do the most American thing we thought possible on this day - take selfies. Buster happily obliged, posing for an array of photos even Taylor Swift would proudly display on her Instagram page. Turns out Buster enjoys being part of the pack. He will bound onto your lap and sit there for as long as you want - and maybe longer than you want. A friendly boy, this Buster.
We were a little saddened to leave Buster back in his iso kennel, but at least we know he'll nap well and dream about his holiday respite.
We're all hoping that the internet works its magic so that Buster will make his way home to a new family soon. Tomorrow would be perfect.
Tomorrow would be especially perfect because adoptions are FREE and folks adopting PB SOC dogs score a free family glamour portrait shot by our very own Shannon Skalisky. But really, any day soon would be just fine with us.
Do your part and share, share, share. You can sing "Oh, Say Can You See" at the same time if you want.
Happy Fourth!
(If you cannot see the video below, please view it HERE.)
For more info on Buster, please visit his webpage at SacCountyDogs.com.
I don't usually respond to personal ads in the K-9 Daily Herald, but this one caught my eye. It was unique. It was well crafted. And it had me very curious.
Here's what it said:
SWF, 8, seeking partner or family to share my life. Mature and cute as hell. If you prefer an older women, I'm your gal. Those younger chicks will chew you up and spit you out, including your shoes and other valuable household belongings. I'm just looking for someone who wants a sweet disposition. I enjoy mellow walks along shady paths. My favorite movie is Pitch Perfect. Wait until you hear me sing. And I don't want to be too forward, but I enjoy a good roll in the hay.
Wow, I thought, I gotta meet this girl. So off I went to introduce myself.
I was nervous at first, as I am on all blind dates. What if she didn't like my leash work? What if she wasn't a fan of boiled chicken?
Her name was Charmaine. And my fears quickly subsided as we began our stroll. She was a delightful companion, barely tugging me on our walk. And she was pretty, too. I mean, I personally like older women, but this girl was really a looker.
We paused under a shade tree and relaxed. She eyed me for a moment, then began to roll on her back. And roll some more. This was obviously what she meant by "roll in the hay"... I gotta admit, I was impressed.
Charmaine was winning my heart. I was thinking about the two of us vacationing in a vineyard in the south of France. Side-by-side strolling happily.
But I had to hear one more thing. Her voice. I needed to hear her sing.
She coyly shook her head no when I politely asked. We walked a bit further, sat down, and I asked again.
"Wait," she said to me with her doleful eyes.
"Wait for what?", I thought to myself.
So we waited. She casually stretched out in the cool grass and sat silently.
Until it came. In the distance at first. And then closer. The sirens of a passing fire truck. She rose to her feet, put her nose to the sky, and the next sound I heard was pure nectar to my ears.
You might be asking how the date ended. It's hard to say. I gave her a hug when we returned to her place, but I knew she would have many other suitors.
Little did I know that later that same day she would find her forever love.
I'll never listen to singing the same way again (wipes tear from eye).
It's tough to imagine the amount of joy found in a single lonely sneaker floating in the American River.
Smokey, a portly black pit mix with a graying snout, was the lucky recipient of said joy. He continually dropped the sneaker in a small divot of mud, then chased it with glee as we hurled the abandoned shoe back into the water.
Smokey & the Shoe
This was one happy pooch, free from the confines of the shelter for a few glorious hours.
But wait, let's back up a bit.
We had decided that we wanted to do a road trip with one of the shelter dogs instead of our usual routine. Walking dogs around the facility is a great way to get them out and about, but it doesn't seem as invigorating as a get-in-the-car, find-a-fun-place, and let-them-romp destination.
Smokey, a 10-year-old who was recently surrendered by his owner, was our first test subject. The American River parkway was our destination. We weren't sure how he would react.
Would he be scared? Would he feel comfortable? Would he like the water?
The answers to those questions? No. Yes. Hell yes.
We entered the The American River Parkway from an entry just off American River Drive near Rio Americano High School. I've been to the American River plenty of times, but this area is incredibly inviting. Biking trails, jogging trails, and shady wooded trails that lead you on a journey along the tranquil waters.
There are wild flowers, rocky bluffs, and amazing views that have you believing you are far from civilization.
Ten minutes into our walk and we were at a small beach along the river. Smokey wasted no time, prancing into the water and exploring. He struck gold immediately in the form a single white sneaker. And the fetching was on.
You could gauge his sheer pleasure by the crooked look he gave us every time he dropped the sneaker at our feet. "Throw the damn thing," his eyes said. "I don't have all day here."
He didn't have all day. But we gave him a few hours. And he devoured every minute of it, tugging us down winding dirt trails and chasing sticks at the river's edge.
At one point, Smokey found a rather large stick in the water. Maybe stick isn't the right word. It was like a small tree. He gathered it in his jaw and yanked it right out of the water. Damn impressive.
Our road trip was a tremendous success. And we gave Smokey a joyful respite from his situation.
Great scenery. Great dog.
Not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning.
(If you can't see the video below, please view it HERE.)
Update: Happily, Smokey has been adopted after a terrific foster family took him in and gave him the time he needed to find his family.
The words came matter-of-factly from the mouth of one of the rescue volunteers.
I was confused for a moment. I'd been walking dogs for months as a volunteer and the expression hadn't been uttered once.
The volunteer pointed to a sheet of paper where notes had been scribbled about a beautiful white dog named Abigail.
She had failed her temperament evaluation due to some fear and body language issues. She was not available for adoption. Nor did anyone know when - or if - she ever would be.
"How long?" I asked, wondering if "failed" dogs were living on borrowed time.
I was told there was no specific deadline and that they were working with the dog on her issues. I quickly agreed to take Abigail out for the morning, blindly confident that I could reach her in some way.
In truth, I rarely seem to make a true connection with the dogs I walk on Sunday mornings. Sure, they're usually happy to be out and about, but I don't always feel like I'm making much of an impact in their lives beyond getting them out of confinement for a few hours.
I didn't expect it would be any different with Abigail. I assumed she would be reticent of me and perhaps leery of other dogs.
But after only a few minutes on the leash, she seemed to settle in very nicely. I kept stopping to lean down and caress her coat, giving her reassurance. She looked back at me with doleful eyes. So far, so good.
Abigail is a gorgeous dog - part lab, part pit bull, a silky white coat, her ears as pink as a bunny's on the inside. There's no doubt in my mind she would be adopted in a day if finally made available to the public.
We paused to sit in the shade on a grassy knoll. She was anxious for a moment, but then stepped into my lap and enjoyed some treats from my hand. She looked back at me again, this time more confidently.
When I traded off dogs with my wife for a few minutes, it was clear that Abigail wanted me back. So I took her again.
We found another place to sit and snuggle in the shade. This time she stretched out and laid on her back, begging me for a belly rub. I happily obliged. There was something happening between me and Abigail.
I'm not sure if you can bond with a dog in 90 minutes. I'm not sure how much of it is my feelings projected on her or whether a true connection was made.
When I returned Abigail to her assigned kennel, I felt a twinge of sadness leaving her. However, when I looked at back at her, she almost seemed to smile at me.
When I left the shelter that day, I felt like I might have made a small difference in Abigail's life. Maybe I gave her a hint of normalcy. She is far from a "failed" dog in my mind.
Now she just has to convince the others.
(If you cannot see the video below, please view HERE.)
Update 3.31.15: Abigail is safely in rescue where she'll have time to get ready for a family of her own.
Dolly exploded from her kennel. I barely caught her collar as she darted past me. She wriggled and leaped and twirled as I finally managed to clasp her to my leash.
And then we were off. In a furious charge to the exit.
Dolly jumped. She grabbed my leg. Then my other leg. And then as we hit daylight, she decided to go into a touchdown celebration dance.
Oh no, I thought to myself, this is not going to be a pleasant walk.
I was wrong.
In a matter of minutes, Dolly was walking peacefully at my side like she had been my dog for years. I admired her snow-white face and brindle body as she strode through the sunshine. But I soon began to notice something. She had no interest in sniffing anything. Not a plant. Or a tree. Or the grass.
Kinda odd. Dogs love to sniff. Especially dogs that have been cooped up in a concrete kennel for most of the day. But Dolly was different. She wanted to do two things: Chomp on chicken and stroll lazily. That was fine by me, but it made me want to know her backstory. Was Dolly a city dwelling dog who never really got a chance to romp in the grass? Was she simply kept on the side of house in one of those long, paved dog runs?
That's the thing with shelter dogs. They're kind of a mystery. You only get hints of their past by their behavior in the present.
For Dolly, I suppose it doesn't much matter. She's a good dog. A very good dog.
--Ron
Enjoy Dolly's photos from her glamour shoot with Shannon Skalinsky today and the video that Chloe made of her. Dolly got lucky and found her forever home quickly, but many more dogs need home. For more information, visit PBSOC.
(If you cannot view the video below, please visit HERE.)
I want a pet, but I'm just not sure what to get. I love those Potbellied Pigs, but are they really right for me? Can you take them on a walk? Will they fetch? Will they want me to take them to Calistoga for the occasional mud bath?
Pigs might make you feel cool and suave. How do we know this? George Clooney proudly owned a pig.
On the other hand, you'd really like a loyal, loving dog. You know, with those big tongues and furry coats.
Dogs are cool. So are pigs. Which to get? This is the age-old dilemma faced by all of us.
Well, I say, why not both?
In one very interesting looking animal.
Say, hello, ladies and gentlemen, to Miss Piggy, a delightfully large dog currently available at the Sacramento Animal Shelter on Bradshaw.
Strolling with Miss Piggy Sunday morning, I soon discovered that the only thing bigger than her belly was her tongue, which nearly scraped the ground as she ambled along on her short legs.
Let's face it. Miss Piggy is, shall we say, zoftig. She's the BBW of the dog world. She's got a ton of junk in the trunk. But, c'mon, everyone likes big butts...
Okay, okay, so maybe Miss Piggy can stand to lose a few. She's okay with that, though. She gamely went along with me as we did a few sprints. And she didn't seem especially ravenous. A nice weight loss program and a visit from Richard Simmons and this dog will be primed for bikini season (I'd personally like to see her in a fetching one-piece).
There, I've made it easy for you. Pig or dog? Get both in one animal. And have a ton of fun.
You would think by looking at the large black scars, the deep divot in his shoulder and the bulging calcified joints, that the eight-year-old dog standing in front of me had been through a lot.
You would be right. And after hearing that this animal was the survivor of a dog-fighting ring, you might even describe his experience as inhumane.
But when I spent a short time with Willard, a calm brown pit bull, on a sunny Sunday morning, I could only come up with one description:
Resilient. Noble. And a testament to the inherent good nature of dogs.
Two months ago, if you had asked me whether I would have put my face two inches in front of the jaws of a former fighting pit bull, I would have said you were absolutely nuts.
But that's exactly what I was doing on a little knoll outside the Sacramento Animal Shelter today. Willard, his prematurely white muzzle gleaming in the sun, barely moved as I came close to him. He took a piece of chicken gently from my hand. He sniffed. And then he layed down, his war-torn body resting against the cool grass.
There was not a hint of aggression in this dog. I mean, not even a smidgeon. This dog was calm. Relaxed. You wouldn't have been able to tell that Willard had an awful abusive history, if not for the history written on his body.
I couldn't take my eyes off the huge knobs on each joint of his two front legs. I later found out the reason for the injuries: His legs had been broken. Not by other dogs, but by humans. On purpose.
This kind of cruelty is hard to fathom for most people, but in an age when we are constantly bombarded by news of heinous acts around the world, it's not that difficult to imagine, I suppose.
I found out that most former fighting dogs are actually quite social when they're rescued. It surprised me. I always figured they would be highly aggressive and almost impossible to domesticate. Not so. These dogs only fought because they had no other option. Many of them were injected with steroids, fed methamphetamines and pushed into cages with other amped-up animals where they had no choice but to fight.
Willard walked and sniffed and walked some more. He enjoyed a little chicken and then strolled again, glad to be outside, if only for a few minutes. He's been at the shelter for two long years, waiting for the adjudication of his owner's case. Thanks to the PB Soc volunteers who regularly walk and socialize this guy, he's managed to stay sane.
When his case is over, perhaps Willard will be adopted to a home that appreciates a mellow, dignified dog who just wants to enjoy the golden years of his life.
A home where his new family sees beyond the scarred exterior to the gentle soul inside.
--Ron
Update 4.11.15: Willard is now available for adoption! His abuser was convicted and he is now ready to go home. For more on Willard please visit his webpage.
You can choose to believe or not. But it's true. Every word of it.
Seems that Chandra and I were given the delightful duty of walking a couple of inseparable dogs who were housed in the same kennel.
Their names: Hans and Leia. You, know, like in Star Wars. They were cute Labs-mixed-with-happy-dogs. And they had a bond. In fact, Hans was a little extra bonded to his girlfriend.
He never let Leia out of sight. He followed her everywhere, sometimes bumping into her, seemingly asking for a little extra attention.
Only hours later, after we left the shelter, did we realize that the dogs had quietly removed our cell phones from our pockets and had been texting during a break in one of the outdoor play areas.
The following is the exact transcript from the text-messaging conversation between the two dogs:
Hans: You were a little standoffish on the walk today.
Leia: LOL.
Hans: I wasn't trying to be funny. You barely sniffed me.
Leia: I was sniffing turkey. Did you see that bag of meat those two humans had?
Hans: Of course, but still. I was expecting a little paw. Something.
Leia: We spend 24 hours a day in the kennel. I like a little alone time once in awhile.
Hans: We were walking together. It was a beautiful day.
Leia: I saw your tail wagging. You seemed happy. Hans: I am happy.
Leia: So am I. Did you see how well behaved I acted for the humans? I think I impressedthem.
Hans: I wish you'd try to impress me sometimes.
Leia: You know I love you. You've got swagger.
Hans: And I'm damn cute.
Leia: Gotta go. The humans are coming. I think the tall guy has more turkey.
(If you are not seeing the video of Leia & Hans below, please view it HERE.)
Hans & Leia have been adopted. For more information on other amazing dogs still searching for their forever homes, go to SacCountyDogs.com.
Odin is a 35-pound pit bull mix who thinks he's a sled dog. He likes to pull. A lot. He walks like he's on a mission. I'm not exactly sure where he's heading, but on Sunday, he merrily yanked me along on an hour-long excursion.
We paused for the occasional chicken snack and he was more than content to nest in my lap at walk's end, but this boy needs a happy ending. And soon.
You can't really blame little Odin for wanting to take you for a ride. He doesn't get out much. He's been sitting in the Sacramento County Shelter for almost two years.
And he's not going anywhere, anytime soon.
Oh, and did I mention that Odin takes Prozac?
You see, Odin was taken into shelter custody, along with his litter of four other sibling puppies, when his owner was arrested for allegedly running a dog fighting ring.
A confiscated dog can't be adopted out until their owner's case is adjudicated. They also can't be spayed or neutered. It makes for some very overwrought animals.
PB Soc provides one of the few sources of companionship for these dogs. The volunteers work tirelessly to keep them sane, exercised and socialized.
There are many animals in just such a situation at the shelter. A lucky few get fostered out to await the outcome of their owner's case in a nice home. But most must sit and wait.
When Odin finally settled in my lap, I could feel the tension start to seep from his body. I scratched his chin and stroked his head. He could almost relax.
We sat there another few minutes. He quietly watched the world go by, sitting motionless, feeling secure for the briefest of time.
And then it was time to take him back to his kennel.
