More Breaking News!!

Ladies and Gentlemen - Boys and Girls - ok, maybe not boys and girls (but I know my kids are happy) - I have good news for all -

CHANCE HASN'T "GONE" IN THE HOUSE FOR FOUR DAYS!!

Dare I say he's over what ever was bugging him in that department. So, he's officially housetrained. We're still working thru the calm thing so we don't get his little puppy heart rate elevated but that is a toughie, I gotta tell you.

He and Te'a are getting along better and better and they want to play and carry on but mean ol' Mom steps in and says, "Hey you two, knock it off!!"

Chance becomes sweeter and sweeter every day but as I type I hear him thundering up the stairs after the cat, oh, wait, here's the cat but no Chance. Must have just been the cat. I know you're riveted by this thrilling blow-by-blow accounting but the cat actually seems disappointed that noone is chasing him. I soo don't get cats.

But back to Chance...Right now, until we can run him til his little puppy legs fall off, he's like a kid on the third day of summer break - say it with me moms and dads, put a little whine in your voice when you do tho..."I am sooooooooooo bored. There isn't anything to dooooo..."

So he finds the box of window insulator kit and starts to eat that, so we make up some kongs (which is getting trickier as there is that whole salmonella thing going on with peanut butter right now - I'll have to get creative and add something else) to keep everybody mentally busy.

He is big into Mama-time but I have to tell you future Chance family, he loves his Daddy. I'm ok to cuddle with, to walk with and have feed him but when Scott walks in the door, I become invisible. He drops at Scott's feet like a rock. Part of it is because Scott was the one who brought him home and another larger part is that Scott asserted his dominance several times with Chance after we brought him home. We don't follow all of Cesar's rules exactly but there are some that really make sense. I too, have asserted dominance over Chance but he adores Scott more than me.

So before they come in here one more time I must go and assert dominance over the dog food bowls and also get number two child out of her bed.

Thank you for thinking rescue. Chance and all the doggies like him thank you too! Lori, the FDR Director sent the following along to me. It hasn't all happened to me yet but I'm sure the longer we do this, the likelyhood will increase!

Pass it on.....

My foster dog is beautiful...

My foster dog stinks to high heaven. I don't know for sure what breed he is. His eyes are blank and hard. He won't let me pet him, and growls when I reach for him. He has ragged scars and crusty sores on his skin. His nails are long and his teeth, which he showed me, are stained. I sigh. I drove two hours for this. I carefully maneuver him so that I can stuff him in the crate. Then I lift the crate and put it in the car. I am going home with my new foster dog.

At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the yard. I get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants 'outside.' As I lead him to the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me his stained teeth again. When we come in he goes to the crate, because that's the only safe place he sees. I offer him food, but he won't eat it if I look at him; so, I turn my back. When I come back the food is gone. I ask again about 'outside.' When we come back, I pat him before I let him in the crate; he jerks away and runs into the crate to show me his teeth.

The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer. I lead him into the bath with cheese in my hand. His fear of me is not quite overcome by his wish for the cheese. And well he should fear me, for I will give him a bath. After an attempt or two to bail out, he is defeated and stands there. I have bathed four-legged bath squirters for more dog years than he has been alive. His only defense was a show of his stained teeth that did not hold up to a face full of water. As I wash him it is almost as if I wash not only the stink and dirt away, but also some of his hardness. His eyes look full of sadness now. And he looks completely pitiful as only a soap-covered dog can. I tell him that he will feel better when he is cleaned. After the soap, the towels are not too bad; so,he lets me rub him dry. I take him outside. He runs for joy: the joy of not being in the tub and the joy of being clean. I, the bath giver, am allowed to share the joy. He comes to me and lets me pet him. One week later I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for me to pet him. I think I know what color he will be when his hair grows in. I have found out he is terrified of other dogs.

So I carefully introduce him to my mildest four legged brat. It doesn't go well.

Two weeks later there is a new vet bill for an infection that was missed on the first visit. He plays with the other dogs.

Three weeks later he asks to be petted. He chewed up part of the rug. Eight weeks later his coat shines, and he has gained weight. He shows his clean teeth when his tongue lolls out after he plays chase in the yard with the gang. His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs and likes to show off his tricks, if you have the cheese.

Someone called today and asked about him; they saw the picture I took the first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his breed. They asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions. I checked up on them. I prayed. I said yes. When they saw him the first time, they said he was the most beautiful dog they had ever seen.

Six months later I got a call from his new family. He is wonderful, smart, well-behaved and very loving. How could someone not want him?

I told them I didn't know.

He is beautiful.

They all are.

Written by: Martha O'Connor