Meet Moose.

Introducing our fourth foster, Moose.

(I wish I had a real life tiny scarf to put on him.)

If you're interested in taking this tiny fella home, fill out an adoption app. He's made himself quite cozy at our house, which I'm thankful for, but at the same time that makes me nervous. I always fear they think that our home is their forever home. Wish I could tell them, "No, this isn't your final stop. We are only temporary, as much as we love you and want to keep you forever."

Moose and Sam love to play together. I think this might be Sam's favorite foster so far. Someone as young and as bouncy as him, at his beck and call.

Ten reasons why fostering animals will change your life.

We parted ways with our most recent foster last week. His name is Ringo. A 13-year-old Lhasa Apso—completely deaf, completely lovely. Like we have done in the past, we moved a little hastily on this one. He was an urgent pup, owner surrender, stuck in the Draper shelter. He had stopped eating five days prior, so I just knew (a feeling deep in my bones) that we needed to pull him out of there asap. Turns out, our house (with its millions of stairs) isn't ideal for a senior dog with arthritis. It's sort of a death trap, actually. We kept him for four days after realizing he wouldn't work as a long-term foster in our home. 

Thanks to social media and CAWS, I was able to find a new foster mom for Ringo. Linda is home a lot during the day, so she's able to give Ringo the attention he deserves. He has a little bit of separation anxiety, probably due to being abandoned by his family of 13 years, but his new mom is patient. He also has a few special needs (eye medicine, prescription food, meds for pain) which Linda attends to with extra care. He's now eating more, limping less, and wagging his tail. I'm thrilled he will have a second chance at a happy life. He's nearing the end (this breed usually lives about 14 years) so he deserves a warm place to live and lots of snuggles. 

Okay, reasons why fostering will change your life. Here goes:

1.     The satisfaction of saving a life is unmatched. I believe all lives are valuable, and pets particularly, need us. By agreeing to foster, you are quite literally saving a life. The animal goes directly from a shelter (where they will be euthanized because of overcrowding) into your home.

2.     Service work is therapeutic. My counselor says the two biggest things you can do to improve your own mental health are volunteer work and exercise. Whether you think you need it or not, everyone could use a good boost in happiness and karma.   

3.     The formation of deep companionship. When you rescue an animal, they know it. And they thank you in various ways. It's different than the bond you form with your own permanent pet, because there's an end in sight.  This makes it a little more painful (saying goodbye sucks!) but also fulfilling knowing that YOU were the middleman who helped find this creature a permanent home.

4.     You will make lasting friendships. The people who are involved in animal rescue come from all walks of life. It's fun to get to know other rescuers and fosters. The common goal of saving lives brings everyone close to form a solid network. They will dogsit for you, offer advice, take your foster to appointments when you're not available, and share supplies. It's a kind, selfless group, and that's refreshing. 

5.     The experience will strengthen your family. Bringing another animal into your home under frenzied circumstances will cause a moment (sometimes weeks!) of upheaval. It's not easy, but once you realize that your actions were a success, you will look back and think that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Chris and I have had disagreements along the way, but we share the common goal, so we find ways to make it work. It helps us improve our communication. 

6.     Socialization for your own pets. Our dog was already socialized, but having fosters in and out of our house has made him an even better pup. Most of the time, he ends up having a new buddy to play with. Do they test his patience? Yep. But, just like people, that makes him stronger and well rounded, improving his quality of life and ours. 

7.     Developing knowledge about the community in which you live.  It's fun to learn about the counties of the state I live in, their rules concerning animals, the politics, the statistics. There are all kinds of opportunities to be involved once you get out there and actually see what's going on. I've written letters to the chief of police and council members and I've talked to shelter owners and county-ran shelter workers. Many of these conversations are ongoing and some have led to positive actions (town meetings, votes, etc) that contribute to the overall goal: less healthy animals being killed in shelters.  

8.     Each animal fostered is one less animal in a shelter that's powered by our tax dollars. Raise awareness. Improve our local economy. 

9.     It's a healthy addiction. Animal rescue is addicting. Something transcendent happens. I won't begin to try to explain it in words, but it's pretty great. It's difficult to not develop a passion for it once you start. Better than being addicted to shopping, or drugs.   

10.  Take a stand, be an advocate, do something that matters. Animal rescue is a way to give back. We get so caught up in ourselves sometimes, we forget there is a whole world of things we could put our energy toward. Stepping back from yourself is the most life-changing thing you can do. It opens your eyes.

 

All it takes is a home. If you have a home that allows animals, you can foster. You make your own guidelines about what size or type of breed works for you. Often times you can handpick the animal you want to save (depending on the rescue group you choose to work with). The only think you will be asked to do as a foster is help get the animal adopted out. This sometimes requires driving them to adoption events on weekends. If you can afford toys, bones and food for the pet, then great. It's very helpful. But if not, many rescue groups help provide what you need.

If you're interested in becoming a foster parents, and you're in the Utah area, contact CAWS or Cause for Paws Rescue Army. They are each very active on Facebook, so you can find them on there too. Most county shelters have Facebook pages where they post their available pets just after the stray hold is up. I always keep an eye on those pages as well. If you're not a Utah resident, contact your local Humane Society--they will likely have connections to organization in your area.  

Merlin: our fostering experience.

Two months. When you read it, it doesn’t sound like a long time. When you see it on the calendar, it doesn’t look like a long time.

But I learned that it is, in fact, a significant amount of time. Sixty days is enough time to feel a million emotions with great, almost unmanageable intensity. It’s enough time to fall in love, learn things about yourself you didn’t know and feel pain you didn’t think you were capable of suffering.

This is my story about Merlin the dog. It’s not a long one, but it’s an important one. It’s inside of me, begging to come out. This story is for me. My therapy. 

He came into my life when Mikhale, the head of the dog rescue group, sent me a photo. “He’s tiny.” she said. “You’ll love him.”

I’ve fostered dogs before. I’ve loved lots of other dogs before. I’ve had to say goodbye before too, but I had forgotten how much that hurts. So when Mikhale said she had a new foster dog lined up for me, I said yes.

Let me get something clear before I go any further. As a foster parent to a dog, it’s your responsibility to provide temporary shelter, care and love, until it finds its forever home. Temporary. (A word I would later forget, or just choose to ignore.)

The last time we fostered a dog, it was a bit of an unplanned disaster. It wasn’t Lola’s fault that things blew up—it was mine. My heart opened up when I saw her face and on some level I knew it wasn’t going to be a good fit. But I committed anyway. No one else was stepping up and her time was running out. She was a full-grown Labrador puppy. We live in a small townhouse—sans yard—and possess very little dog training skills.

Enough said.

But saving Lola was a good choice—one I’ll never regret. She went on to become a narcotics and bomb-sniffing dog, helping law enforcement in Michigan. I knew she had it in her. The ability to be a great companion and the skills to be a well-minded gal. 

The day I said goodbye to her was only a month before I met Merlin. I cried for a lot of reasons. One: the unknown. Would she be ok, or would she end up back in a shelter? Two: selfishness. Even though she was a pain in the ass, left poop stains on my bed and scuffs on all the wall, she was a love. She kissed me with such gratitude the day we pulled her out of the shelter. Just before she ran me over (giving me a black eye) and nearly popped my shoulder from its socket. 

This is what I thought every dog-fostering experience would be like. They’ll come to my house, cause havoc, beat up my dog, make a mess, give me a gratitude kiss then find a home that’s a better fit.

Oh how I was wrong.

After the Lola experience, or calamity, I made some better decisions about how I’d go about fostering in the future. The main thing: I’d only commit to smaller dogs. I just don’t have the muscle, skill or room to house a young, large pup. I told myself You can’t save them all, but you can save some, and you can try to do it with a little more grace and a lot more logic. Be effective.    

I drove downtown to meet Mikhale on a Monday. She let me know over the phone that Merlin was a tiny prince charming who minded his manners, insisted on tummy rubs and tolerated other dogs.

When I first saw him, I was stunned by his size, overall appearance and attitude. He was small, well-groomed, toenails trimmed, rolling happily in insects he’d found in the grass. He didn’t act like other shelter dogs I’d met. He had this air of confidence (or apathy?) about him.

I loved that. It meant he wasn’t as traumatized as he could have been. We don’t know much about his background or where he came from—only that his previous family gave him up because he marked their baby. Imagine that. An unaltered dog lifting his leg on new things he sees in their home.

Anyway.

Mikhale handed him to me and as I walked to my car, Merlin looked back at her. His sassy attitude was gone and he acted a little scared. Even though he’d only been with her for one night, he had formed a bond. Maybe it was because he knew she saved him from the shelter. Or because she had given him a cozy place to sleep the night before. All I know is that he was nervous.

I did everything I could to calm his nerves. Kissed him, pet his belly and baby-talked the hell out of him. It worked. Within minutes he’d made himself right at home in my car. He lay, belly up and eyes closed in the passenger seat, enjoying the air conditioning and massage.  That air of confidence was back.

My dog Sam hasn’t exactly been thrilled with all of these strange animals coming in and out, but he’s socialized so he tolerates it. It wasn’t any different with Merlin, at first. Sam became a little jealous with the attention Merlin received from me, Chris, neighbors and friends, but he was just fine. Sam will share his food, toys and rawhides—overall he’s a great host.

Over the weeks, though, Sam began to do more than just tolerate Merlin. He started to initiate playtime by growling and flashing toys in Merlin’s face. Merlin preferred to stay on my lap, taking full advantage of the baby talk and tummy rubs. He’s considered a senior (he’s about seven years old) so his energy level isn’t in line with Sam’s. 

But recently Merlin started surprising me by responding to Sam’s invitations to play. Over the last three weeks, the two of them acted like best buddies. Snuggles, tug-of-war, everything.

This thrilled me to no end. This foster experience was so perfect, that sometimes I forgot that Merlin was just passing through. He fit into our lives so well. He went on rides with us, slept in our bed, played with our dog. It almost felt as if we hand-picked him as our own new little companion. 

He knew how to make me feel special. I was his whole world. The one he followed like a shadow around the house, the one he reached for when someone else picked him up and the one he snuggled close to at night. I accidentally started calling myself his mom. Oops.

I couldn’t help it though. It was like a white, fluffy Merlin cloud moved in and blurred my vision, and I lost sight of what this relationship was supposed to be.      

“Lost” is a good word, actually. I knew I was getting in deep, falling in love with this little furball that learned to trust me and forgot about his crappy past. I was lost about what to do. Keep him for myself? Or continue with adoption efforts? Stay close to him, keeping up the baby talk and constant loves, or start to detach a little?

It’s a good lost to be, though. Like, when you get lost in the back roads of a charming, unfamiliar town full of big trees, or lost in the eyes of a person you love.

I was confused, and lost, but I was set on one thing: keeping Merlin and avoiding negative thoughts about the future.  I went with the let whatever happens, happen adage. 

Well, Thursday something did happen. Mikhale received an email of interest on Merlin. We did a meet and greet and everything went well. After a short trial period, we’ll know for sure if he’s found his forever home. So far, he’s fitting in well and I have a strong feeling that this is his forever home.

But wait. I haven’t told you the cool part. His new home is a senior living center chock full of folks with nothing to do but love on him all day.

Can you imagine a better scenario for a mister prissy pants? 

This senior center has a policy that incorporates one dog per 20 residents. They usually adopt from shelters or rescue groups. I DID NOT KNOW PLACES LIKE THIS EXISTED.

“Can I live here, too?” I asked the Allie, the director (who, by the way, was super pleasant and dressed in tie-dye, which earned her instant cool points with me). 

This place is amazing. It’s not smelly like you’d expect an animal-friendly old folks home to be. It’s kept sparkling clean. The overall aura was unbelievably upbeat. I wouldn’t have left Merlin there otherwise.

Mikhale and I chatted about Merlin for a while and Allie gave us a tour of the facilities. There was dogs running around everywhere. I absolutely loved it.

A sweet wheelchair-bound woman with Alzheimer’s politely asked me to put Merlin in her purse—a purse she’d later forget about and deny belonged to her. 

It was easy to see Merlin would be popular there, and very well taken care of.

I walked to my car to grab his vet records and his bag of belongings (which included a tiny teddy bear squeaker, Sam’s elephant toy, bacon treats and a tiny rawhide). 

I left Allie with specific details about Merlin’s routine. Every time I talked I choked a little, trying not to burst into uncontrollable tears.

Hold them back till you leave. Just wait till you’re at your car. Don’t let him see you sad. It’ll scare him.

I grabbed mister prissy pants from Allie one more time, removed his harness and leash and puckered up. He licked me with his mini tongue and tried to stay close to my chest. He was acting nervous, the way he did the day I took him from Mikhale. 

“You’ll be alright here, I promise. They all love you already. Please don’t make this harder on mommy.” I talked to him like no one else was around. Some might not believe it, but they understand us. Words help ease their nerves and they’re experts at reading our faces.

So I smiled and comforted him and assured him he’d be ok. Then I left him.

People ask me “Why didn’t you just keep him?” and the answer to that is long and complicated. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think seriously about how we could keep him. We talked about it often. But if we had chosen to adopt Merlin, we wouldn’t be able to foster any other dogs—at least not while we’re living in this house. The other deciding factor was that in our community, there are strict covenants, codes and restrictions concerning dogs: only one pet per household is allowed. We received special permission to foster dogs, but technically we can’t own two dogs while we live here.

I hate that rule, and probably wouldn’t have moved in here had I known about it before we started to build.   

The main reason Merlin’s not in my lap right at this moment is because I am sure he will have a better life at Silverado (the senior living center). Yes, I gave him a lot of love and everyone could clearly see our attachment to one another, but at Silverado he won’t be locked in a crate for 10 hours a day. In fact, he’ll never be locked in a crate. His little paws won’t ever hit the floor. He’ll be gracing the laps of old folks as they pet him all day long. This is what he deserves. He’s social and now he’ll have a chance to polish those skills while he makes new friends and forms new attachments to the members of that community. 

I received an update from Allie yesterday:

                Merlin update: he’s covered with lipstick from all the kisses. 

So here I am now, with Sam snuggling at my feet, feeling much better now that I’ve documented some of Merlin’s story. I’m filled with warm fuzzies at the thought of his tale. He went from a family that didn’t deserve him to a home brimming with people who will endlessly appreciate his company. Now his real life is just beginning. It may be morbid to think of it this way, but it’s the truth: Merlin will keep those residents company in their last years, and vice versa. 

Aside from the warm fuzzies, though, I’m suffering from my personal loss of a friend. His presence, his affection and all of his quirks: the way he chased flies and growled like he was tough during playtime. There’s a certain emptiness here now.

He came into my life for a reason, and he’s leaving it for a reason. I know this. But it still hurts to wash his blanket and to see his short white hairs in the car. The good news is I’ll get to visit. It’ll be best for both of us if I wait, I think. But some day, I will go see him basking in the glory of his brand new life.   

We mingled with puppies.

A couple weeks ago, No More Homeless Pets in Utah posted a request for volunteers on their FB page. They do a program called Pup My Ride where dogs from various shelters across the U.S. are moved (essentially distributed) to other areas of the country where demand is higher. This particular load of pups was on its way from LA to Montana, stopping to rest in Salt Lake City.

In LA, people over-breed small dogs (lots of chihuahuas!) and use them like accessories. There are way too many homeless pets everywhere, but in LA it's particularly sad for the many small dogs who end up being euthanized because of others' ignorance.

So, the NMHPU needed help unloading this truckload of dogs at a kennel were they would rest for a night, then continue back on the road, Montana-bound, the next morning. The only minor catch? The puppies arrived at 1:00 a.m. After a nap and some coffee, we headed to SLC to greet the furry lil visitors, just passin' through.

Chris was afraid this experience would leave us sad and feeling hopeless. You know, the pissed-off-at-humanity feeling when an overwhelming realization of something terrible crashes down on you? It was actually quite the opposite, though.

The gal who picked up the 50 furballs and drove all through the day and into the night from LA to SLC was so nice. We could hear high-pitched yapping as she pulled into the parking lot, before she even got out of the vehicle. (Can you imagine the headache?) She even had two dogs loose up in the front with her. The rest were in kennels in the back of a van. She was smiling--not complaining--as she opened the back and helped us start to unload.

About ten volunteers gathering in the middle of the night (most of them dog owners and SLC residents) was totally inspiring. I felt proud of humanity. Proud that sometimes people do think beyond themselves and step up for voiceless, helpless creatures like these dogs.

Then we met the puppies.

There were mostly small, young dogs with about five big dogs peppered in the mix as well as a pit bull mom and her ten puppies. Fifty total. Each one was removed from its kennel in the back of the van, put on a leash by one of us, taken to a lawn area where they could run for a minute and potty, then taken inside to a gated kennel for dinner and rest.

You know that I obviously bonded with every dog I touched. But this one pup in particular...sigh. He was a love bug. He was a chihuahua puppy, peanut  butter-colored, with white spots. He was a little ball of fire! I took him out back and spent a little extra time running around with him. He jumped all over the shy lil dog Chris was walking on his leash. He jumped on every person that walked by. His tail wagged. I'm pretty sure he must have known he was on his way to a better life...or maybe he was just tired of being cooped up all day. Either way, I loved his personality. When it came time for me to set him up in his area inside, I bent over to put him down and he wrapped his little paws around my arm. His eyes said "No, don't put me down. Take me home, won't you?" I held onto him a little while longer then made him join his friends for the night.

If there wasn't a one-pet regulation in our neighborhood...

The pit bull and her puppies were in a separate, quieter area. She was the best mom, nursing her ten (TEN!) pups and being totally tolerant as I picked them up and loved on them.

Oh how I pray that each of those dogs finds a better life in Montana. They need forever homes--or even a good foster home--just something other than a shelter that will eventually run out of room. They deserve that. It's my dream to eventually run a ranch where I can foster all kinds of domestic animals. Chris is with me. We will make this happen one day.

Contact NMHPU if you want to come help with this project (and others). It'll feel good. Here are some photos from the night. Some are taken with my phone, the better ones were shot by Melissa Lipani.

Feeding time. 

Sweet puppy. These shots seem sad, but they're really not. It's a positive thing they got to stay the night in a bigger area with some blankets and food. :)

We missed the volunteer photo because we were still wrangling little ankle biters.

This jack russell couldn't play nice with the other dogs.

Mommy pit. 

I was interrogated, only for a minute, by my dog.

A little sleepy by the time we got home at 3:00 a.m.

Focus on the physical.

A friend posted this article from Beauty Redefined on ESPN's "Hot or Not" segment. Take a minute to read it if you can.

I think it's an important reminder that all this focus on the physical is harmful to the way men view women and also to how women view themselves. Alleviate objectification and remember: it's not what you look like that matters. It's what you can do.

For earth.

We've been out and about lately. Thanks to my place of employment, we've been given several opportunities to be involved in community activities that benefit the environment. I thought instead of writing another heated rant about how people don't care enough, I could just share what we did.

In honor of earth day, we cleaned the highway that Sun Products adopted (it's a chunk of Bangerter). I've done this a few times and despite what people think, it's actually quite a riot. We play games like who can find the grossest item and who can make up the best story about a littered item.

Chris's stance and face in this photo scream I'm here for court-mandated community service. He volunteered though. I swear. 

We tied for grossest item: I found a condom and he found an unwrapped tampon. But don't worry -- we have nifty pinchers to pick up the trash so we don't come in direct contact (see contraption about).

I won't share the nasty, imaginative stories we came up with.


On to the next event. Tree planting at Wheeler Farm. I've planted small trees before, but these large ones were a challenge. Chris and I were both a bit sore. Tree Utah worked with Sun to organize this event and I was happy to see the big turnout. It's reassuring to know that some people care. Or maybe they were just there to get outta work? Either way, planting trees is a nice thing to do. So do it. Please. (See how non-ranty and nice I'm being about it?)

This isn't everyone. More people came. I think 70 total. Parents brought kids which I think is an amazing thing to do. It was cool to hear the little ones talk about how "happy the trees look" and to see them working as a team. What smart, smart parents. Bravo.

The people who work for and volunteer for Tree Utah were so thoughtful and grateful. They gave out cookies, homemade brownies, bottled water, sunscreen chapstick and these adorable pens shaped like veggies.

I loved them so much, I volunteered to do some writing and editing for them. I'm excited to arrange it.

Work passed out these adorable handmade wildflower cards. I love them. We almost used the same kind of paper of our wedding invites.

So to sum up, I just want to ask the few peeps reading to stop and consider the world in which we live. It's dirty and suffering, but we can make it better. Little bits at a time.

Two more days.

Strut Your Mutt is in two days. Actually 1.5. I'm getting desperate for any donations or participation. We're not close to our goal and that makes me a bit sad for the homeless pups and kitties in need. That's why I'm going to bribe you. If you donate $10 or more to our dog pack, or actually register as part of our pack to come strut, I will send you something sweet (by sweet I mean charming. not sugary.) in the mail. Not email. Mail mail. (You will love it. Really.)

That means Ciara Richardson, Tori Evans, my mom and Kim Yeates are already getting a gift for their generosity. So, this is kind of like an impromptu giveaway, except you have to spend a little money toward a good cause. Fair enough, right? Email me with your address if you decide to help me out: crystalross306 {at} msn {dot} com. Thank you!

To add intrigue about the mystery gift: we have created some pretty sweet knickknacks here at the Ross residence. 

Get ready...set...strut!

Thank you to all who have donated, registered and/or spread the word about Strut Your Mutt. It's such a great cause that I feel so passionately about. My photographer friend, Brooke, has a sweet pup of her own and has decided to help spread the word. THANKS, B!


If you haven't done anything yet, it's not too late. Click here to donate. Even a little bit helps! Now, please enjoy this basket o' puppies.

image from national puppy day.com



2011 Strut Your Mutt

Over 30,000 young, healthy animals are euthanized in Utah every year. Five million nationally. The Strut your Mutt walk helps raise money to support no-kill shelters so that this number will eventually be lowered. We have too many unwanted pets here--namely because of the lack of spay and neutering. Adoption rescue should be the first choice for those considering a pet in their household. The mutts need homes, too! Just because a pet may not be coming from a pure breed or a champion bloodline doesn't mean they won't serve their purpose as loving companions.

Please donate or participate in the walk by clicking here.  (When you click there you will be awarded with a photo of Sam. My all time favorite photo of Sam.) You don't even have to have a mutt to strut. Just show support by walking or giving a few dollars.

Our donation page was created in support of TAO Rescue--Tooele Animal Outreach. I was touched by Daye Abbot's story of their foster dog, Bebecca. She was found bloody and abused by the side of the road (probably drug behind a car).

No matter which charity you choose to donate directly to, they all support the same goal: to reduce the amount of homeless pets in the U.S. Thank you in advance for your selfless generosity.

Save the dolpins: an important cause.

I'm a documentary watcher. I enjoy listening to what others have to say, seeing what people are passionate about and choosing a side for myself. Many documentaries have counterparts--other films or books that challenge their data or opinions. Is natural birth a better option than a drug birth? Is fast food really that bad?  These topics seem so trivial compared to what I saw today.

I watched The Cove. It shed light on the senseless killing and capturing of dolphins in a hidden cove in Japan.  Over 20,000 dolphins are captured here a year--the pretty ones chosen for spectacles (Sea World-type shows for our entertainment), and the less desirable ones brutally killed with sharp poles (their meat unknowingly sold and served despite high levels of mercury).   






With this subject, there is absolutely no opposing view. No one arguing "another side." No one with a relevant political or ethical standpoint that's spoken up. It's just cold, inhumane slaughtering of these smiling sweethearts. Most people in Japan don't even know it's happening. It's a pretty nasty secret in a small town that supposedly loves dolphins.

The reason I'm posting about it is to get you to watch it. If you don't have time to watch The Cove at least visit the website and learn about what's happening. There are petitions to be signed, letters to be written and action that can be taken.


Chris came in the room while I was watching the movie, tears pouring down my face as I clutched my puppy. "Why are you watching this? Why do you do this to yourself." I told him it's because I don't want to be ignorant. Pretending these things don't happen may make my day continue on, uninterrupted and seemingly stress free--but what does it do for those who suffer?

Update: Taiji, though not near the epicenter of the recent disastrous quake, was pretty tattered. Many people were killed. The Save the Dolphins volunteers that were staying in Taiji made it to safety. Thank god. Alas, all 24 dolphins being kept in sea pens were killed--thrown against the rocky coastline. Read more about that here.

Breast Cancer..PLEASE donate

This week, my good friend/coworker lost his mom to breast cancer.

Please go here to the Bodacious Ta-Tas group to donate to the cause (Steven's group at the bottom) http://race.komenslc.org/site/TR/Race/General?pg=team&fr_id=1000&team_id=2880

or think about participating in the walk:
http://komenslc.org/


Thank you and God bless.