When All The Stars Align…A Moment Like This Is Captured On Film

dock-dog

We pulled up anchor and headed back to camp with a boatload of fish. The August sun was hot and our bellies were empty.  There was only one cola left in the cooler and Mother Nature was calling.  On approach, we slowed down to witness a four legged athlete named Dock–and HE CAN FLY.

We cut the engine and drifted, in awe, when we saw how high and tight his moves were.  Dock, a German Shorthaired Pointer pup, had “Zee German Engineering” running on all four cylinders and he was stroked and bored!  His owner cartwheeled the dummy time and time again…and then the magic happened. It really was something to behold.

CLICK this orange link and WATCH this Amazing Athete

 

Big Bull Moose Sighting!

Big Bull Moose  

Click on above video link!

Since the 70′s, when every day tee shirts caught on, I’ve resented each Yooper tee with moose on it.  Hey, shirts with black bears and beaver shots are ok.  Celebrating slogans like “Say ya to da UP, eh?” or those making fun of Beer Camp, Pasties, and Trolls living south of da bridge are good.  I’ve just got a 50 year grudge with Moose shirts.  Until I saw an incredible bull moose tear it up on U.S. 2 at the MI95 junction in Iron Mountain. What happened next blew me away.

This mature bull shredded everything in his path as he filled his tank on berries and brush leaves.  He seemed nice enough and sort of tame.  Traffic came to a standstill and impatient folks bailed out to see what the commotion was.  After they figured it out, each raced back to their trusty rusties to retrieve cell phones and cameras.  Folks began gathering quick and there were more oooohs and aaaahs than fireworks on the 4th of July.   Sparks shot off the nearby cell phone tower as callers lit it up.   Eventually, every bar stool within a five mile radius was empty. We had us a spectacle–a true Yooper miracle…until a guy wearing steel toed Carhartt boots said, “Hey, hold my beer!”

 

Get off at Exit 69 on Big Beaver Road–How Hard Can it Be?

“Big BEEverr” Pronouncing this major artery through the city of Troy, Michigan almost always draws snickers from out-of-towners.   It is embarrassing to give them directions in this town to anywhere, even a place as simple as a shopping mall.  I blame dead folks: the ones who long ago snickered at leaving us this legacy.   They know what they did.

These 1950′s engineers were in charge of road planning.  They selected all the junctions as I-75 was designed. Big Beaver Road, which was originally named in the 1800′s after a nearby beaver pond, was assigned (cover your eyes, kids) EXIT 69.  If these clowns had added one more intersection before or after Big Beaver Road, a lot of teens and t’weens would have had nothing to giggle about.   Worse, the old Playboy Club, was there, further perpetuating the urban legend factor. Take heart, Michiganders, we are in good company:

 

 

 

 

 

Kentuckians don’t want you to know is that there are two villages in Northern KY: Beaver Lick and Big Bone Lick.)

For those of you needing some extra R&R, you could pull over here: 

Forgiven

Harriet in full camouflage

It has been an honor to rehabilitate and care for brave Harriet, pictured here in her camouflage blankie.  She has more humanity than that pig-man who now rots in jail for what he did to her and seven other dogs.  I know Harriet has more forgiveness built into her than I do for that monster because DOG is GOD spelled backwards.

Happy endings is what fostering and adoption are all about.

I’m comforted knowing that Harriet’s cruising years of 5-9 will be rewarding, stress free, and fun for her.  She will never be hungry or cold again.  I smile when I imagine her golden years, with a powder grey face that probably scores lots of table scraps.  Blessed are those who step up to the plate to save a life, knowing that dogs of every age have value.  Rescue dogs, many of which have known love and are owner surrenders (moving, divorce, job changes, or sometimes illness or death of owner) and, sadly, some who have been cruelly neglected or abused know…they somehow know….they are special.  They fit in right away and adapt in ways that can not be explained. Intuitively, they are grateful and especially loyal.

 I was a dog snob; I admit it. 

For the past 35 years, my husband and I have only purchased German Shorthaired Pointer puppies with champion bloodlines from reputable breeders.  There is a need for proper breeding and breeders, no doubt.   My husband is a Patron Member of Pheasants Forever and seriously trains and hunts our dogs out west.  There was a time when we would have never considered a dog like Harriet, who came to us as an adult:  naked, broken and abused without papers.  She did not have a collar, a toy, or one worldly possession.  Only she knows the ugly truth that she endured for five years, tied to a pole in a freezing Indiana barn.

This amazing dog has opened my eyes.  She has tons of heart, hustle, and natural ability that isn’t published on a paper, making her her what some call, “a meat dog.”  One you can count on.  One that busts through thorny hedgerows without a whimper to retrieve a downed bird.  One that never gives up.  Meat dogs are good enough to bring home the bacon (upland game) but not a dog that the champion bloodline snob would ever consider.  He is relentless in pursuit and resilient.  He earns respect the hard way as an honest dog and a respectable Joe.

Rescues want to please and they are not picky.  They work twice as hard at earning their keep as any dog I’ve ever owned.   My eyes have been opened to believing in the breed and its natural abilities.  Much credit is given to those who preserve the breed standard through thoughtful, planned matings.  I’m not discouraging anyone from purchasing dogs from reputable breeders.  I am encouraging everyone to think twice–to look around and be open minded.

When you adopt a dog that is already here, you save two lives: 

his and the spot that just opened up

at a shelter or foster home for another dog in need.

I hope to one day be what we in the rescue business call “a foster failure.”  When the time is right, I will adopt my next GSP.  It won’t be a puppy because puppies are a lot of work and my husband and I are in our 50′s.  Somewhere out there is another middle aged “meat dog” we will be proud to call our own.  In the meantime, we will continue to foster, provide transports for dogs going to their furever homes, and donate old blankets and dog beds as we can.

If you have loved Harriet’s story, please consider donating what you can.  ANY amount is appreciated and 100% of the funds raised goes into dog rescue and care.  There are no administrative wages taken because we are purely volunteer based. Click on the link:  http://ilshorthairrescue.com/      ISR provides shelter, medical care and arrangements for dogs in Illinois, Indiana and Michigan.  They have a facebook page too, filled with adorable, adoptable dogs!

I thank you and Harriet thanks you!  Please join me in making it a Happy New Year for another homeless dog.

Harriet and The Night the Animals Talked

nativity.jpg.size.xxlarge.letterbox

Part 5…Harriet’s story continued from Rescue 911

Have you heard about the legend, The Night the Animals Talked? According to Norwegian folklore, the baby Jesus was born at the stroke of midnight with only Mary and Joseph and a menagerie of stable animals as witnesses to the sacred occasion. The animals gathered round and watched as the babe was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger. And then an astonishing thing happened. God gave voice to the animals that night and they began to praise Him for the miracle they had witnessed. Their ability to talk only lasted a matter of minutes – until the shepherds came to worship the Savior. At their entrance the animals fell silent.

This legend of talking animals persists in Scandinavian countries to this day. It is believed that, at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, animals are given the gift of speech.   For 20 years, every Christmas Eve when we get home from Midnight mass, I look forward to walking up the stone path to the barn where our animals are.  Ever since my children were small, I told them that the animals could talk on the night our savior was born and invited them to come with me.  They were too tired from visiting grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and stuffing their faces with holiday bread and ham and kielbasa and thinking about their stockings over the fireplace and setting out cookies and milk for Santa, that never once did they join me.

So, I’ve always taken this time, on Christmas Eve, to think about the first nativity and how Mary and Joseph must have felt.  I sit on a straw bale surrounded by goats who don’t understand, birds who look down from their nests in the rafters, and mice who, on occasion, have run over my shoe as I sit and give thanks in a deeply personal way.  I’ve taken a lot of flack for sitting out in that cold barn imagining the first Christmas.  But let me tell you, there is no more peaceful place on earth than being engulfed in a twinkling black night, filled with stars and being kept warm by animals that nibble your shoe laces and try to pick your pockets, hoping for a carrot.  Every exhale is visual in the cold air and our mingled breaths floated up and slowly dissipated.

Harriet has spent five Christmas Eves tied up in a stable.  I’d like to believe that she could talk to the other dogs she was imprisoned with.  My hope is that they all, on this special night, were comforted.

Tonight, after all the gift giving hoopla and the feasting is over, Harriet and I are are walking down the lane to our big, red barn to sit on a straw bale so I can tell her about her new forever home and the sister who is waiting and how all of her Christmases and all of the rest of her days will be merry and bright.

 

 

What’s the Big Deal?

Continued….part 4

Happy Harriet hopped into my car to go bye-bye again.   Last time we went on a big camping trip so this time she was definitely up for another adventure.  She got one, too.  I dropped her off at the vet to be spayed.  

Harriet had never been to a veterinarian’s clinic before so she was still happy.  I was the one who ended up blubbering when I relinquished her to the techs.  I  imagined her waking up in pain and thinking that she was alone or dumped.  I begged them to let me tie my scarf around her neck so that when she “came to” she could smell my smells and know that I still cared. I couldn’t bear the thought of her thinking she was abandoned.   That’s when I realized I had turned into a “helicopter mom”.

Two days later she graduated from that blasted, shin and calf bruising cone into a sporty blue blow-up donut and insisted on helping me with chores.  We went out to the chicken coop and she helped me collect eggs.  I might have dropped one “on accident” but it was gobbled up right away so I can’t be sure.  Then we filled a big pail of water for Ruby and Stella, my little goaties.  Quality Control Specialist Harriet chomped at the tap water as I filled the goat bucket.  She likes goats.  She gets right up to the red fence and they face off.  Eventually somebody snorts and scares the bejesus out of the others and then they all start running around like buckaroos until the stare down starts up again.

Each morning and evening I slathered ointment on her sutures and she looked up with eyes that said, “What’s the big deal?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AMAZING ISR – (Illinois Shorthair Rescue) – FACTS

Every dog ISR rescues is given the best possible medical care.  They are microchipped, heartwormed, Frontlined, spayed or neutered, and any bumps or suspicious lumps are removed and biopsied.  Broken bones and torn knees are surgically repaired by  veterinarians within their network, who discount their services.   They make sure Heartworm positive dogs get the care they need.  ISR rescue dogs are vetted for temperament and they are  fully vaccinated. Foster families get to know them and work hard to turn these abandoned dogs into excellent canine citizens that anyone would be proud to own.  100% of any monies donated are used to treat and rescue GSPs.  All the administrative and “boots on the ground” work is grass roots, volunteer.

Everyone can do something to help; it doesn’t have to be a financial commitment.  Maybe you can jump on a transport–where you might pick up a dog from a foster home and deliver him or her to a forever home!  I’ve done this and it is the best experience!

Maybe you have old blankets, towels or sheets with holes in them that are too yucky for Goodwill but perfect for a dog who has never had anything soft to sleep on.  Food and cleaning supply donations are appreciated.  Just spreading the word via your own facebook page is awesome.

If you shop on amazon.com, and want to support any cause or any breed rescue, register at smile/amazon.com and a percentage of everything you were going to purchase anyway will be donated to your cause!

Illinois Shorthair Rescue
Gurnee, IL 60031
Phone: 847-276-6995

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Page 2 of 1512345...10...Last »
© Copyright The Painted Post - Suski Web Design LLC