Wally Has A HOME!!!!

Just a quick note to let everyone know that Wally has been adopted. Ruth and I are especially excited to know that Wally is on the next leg of his adventure.

Go Wally!

Wally & Santa: Anyone Looking to Adopt a Dog for Christmas?

I'm hoping Santa brings a new home to Wally for Christmas! Are you Wally's new home?

My Friday Dilemma: Adopting Ugly Dogs

We have a wonderful 11 year old collie-lab cross named Kiki, but maybe, just maybe, she needs a friend. This new dog discussion is floating around our household. Ruth especially is excited about the idea of a new member in our family.

Some stupid parent (ok, it's me), might have, just might have, mentioned that if Ruth did well in her studies this year at school that we might get a dog in the summer. My husband is not a fan of this idea. In fact, he called me out on my bad parenting in bold face.

Now, Ruth is glued to the Humane Society website. She tracks every adoption and calls it a "missed opportunity" when a dog she likes gets a new home. She knows that it's the best thing for the dog, but she is longing for a canine companion.

I understand her feelings. I love animals. I grew up on a farm. We had animals running around everywhere. There was space and food and love. Anyone remember the story of Ariel the Christmas Cat? Yup. Strays were welcome, there is always room for one more.

I stupidly took my daughters to our local Humane Society. We found a cute pup, fell instantly in love and called dad--he threw a fit. He called me out on "Bad Parenting Mistake" number 2. If you are going to make a deal, do not change the terms of the bribery, er, deal. So, that trip, no dog.

However, there was this dog for adoption named Wally. Wally is 3 and he looks like his head was cut off of one dog and sewn onto another dog's little body. He is not cute. My daughters didn't give Wally the time of day. He was just sad and lonely in his little cell, er cage.

Wally has been on my mind. I don't want to say that he's ugly, but as in life, if you're pretty or cute, sometimes doors open up for you. No doors have opened for Wally in over a month.

I am going with a friend to the Humane Society today to help her pick up a "cute" dog that she is adopting. This means I will have to walk past Wally. Lord help me.

Humane Society Camp

My girls just finished a week of Humane Society Camp. As my friend put it, "The only camp that comes with a puppy."

Every day they met different pets. Every day I needed self control of steel to fend off the cute fuzzy faces of homeless animals. On Bunny Day, cute, little, sweet bunny Zipper needed a home. Couldn't we please find space for such a small critter?

Day Two, Misha the Rat with a very soft tail needed a home. Couldn't we please find space for Misha? She was even smaller than Zipper and only needed a very small cage.

Day Three, Cookie's kitten sister, Klondike, had been adopted, leaving Cookie alone in the cage. My girls were heartbroken that these sisters had to part. Couldn't we please take Cookie home so that she could live with our cats so that she wouldn't be so lonely?

On day Four, Mia, a pug-beagle mix with an extra long tongue needed saving. She was having trouble finding a family to accept her special tongue attribute, even though she was a loving, active puppy. Couldn't we please bring Mia home to meet our dog? Couldn't we save her from a world where having an extra long tongue only works in rock and roll?

And all along there was Figgy. The cutest little puppy I had ever seen. She is a chihaua, which is not a breed I genrally am drawn to, but she had the most expressive eyes and a little face that said, "You need me."

By the time we hit Friday, I was a nervous wreck. I am an animal lover, and would love to give all of the animals a good home...but already having two cats and a dog, I know the reality of how much care pets require. My husband is not such a big fan of the pets--he loves our dog more than me, but that is a particular, separate case.

We said our good byes to all of the fantastic pets we had met over the week. I was confident in the fact that our particular Humane Society will keep a pet until it finds a home, no matter what. Some cats have been there for years.

I am sad that we don't have a bigger house, more money, more time and a better lifestyle for more pets. My girls are still hopeful that we will go back and rescue long-tongued Mia.

Please, if you are considering a dog, check your local shelter. Why pay hundreds of dollars for a bred pet, when you can free a pet from bars and give them happiness? Maybe an extra long tongue means extra long kisses?

Dog Gone It!

11:30. We climbed into bed and settled in. My husband and I, both exhausted from a day of hurdles had just successfully booked flights for two trips. We had been meaning to do it for months, but life gets in the way.

He turned to me and said, "Honey, where's the dog?"

"She should be right here," I said peering over the edge of the bed. I was content with accomplishment and sank into my fluffy pillows.

"When's the last time that you saw her?" I couldn't answer that question, so I hauled my carcass out of bed and started searching the house.

Kiki, our collie-lab mix, is getting older. She often falls asleep somewhere in the house, and if it's her bedtime, she'll stay there. She's very quiet.

Hmmmmm, the last time I saw her was when I was outside doing the recycling. Satisfied that she wasn't in the house, I opened the door and called for her. No dog.

I put on my shoes and a sweater and went out into our quiet, dark and deserted street. Whistling and calling. No dog.

My husband, who would choose this dog over me in a crisis, joined me out in the street. When his whistling had no luck, he told me to call the police.

One might ask, why we would call the police? Well, we've been down this road before, and the last time, many years ago, she was found at the police department.

This is not to be confused with the time she dug herself under the fence, escaped into the neighbor's yard and took a tour of the neighborhood. I was 8 months pregnant, but I hauled the kids out of the pool (still dripping in our bathing suits) and combed the neighborhood frantically looking for her.

And that is not to be confused with the time some man called and had found her in the next city.

With this kind of record, I called the police. They didn't have a dog, but they did just see the Animal Control truck leave town. Gulp.

I called the Humane Society. They, of course, were closed, but they did have an "Animal Emergency" number. Was this an animal emergency? Considering my husband and his love for this dog, uh huh.

I dialed the number. After a few rings, the Animal Officer confirmed that indeed he had Kiki in his truck. He asked for our address and said he would bring her right home. Thank goodness!

The scary white van appeared. The officer, very nice, opened the door, and viola! Kiki bounded happily out of the Animal Control van. Her tail was wagging, her tongue hung out to the side--she had just been on her best adventure ever.