The Story of a Nearly Euthanized Puppy

The story begins on July 6^th when a friend at work shared a picture with me of a dog on the “CODE RED” list at the Fort Worth Animal Shelter. For those of you unfamiliar with this, the CODE RED list contains animals that are  on schedule to be euthanized, if not adopted or tagged before that night. Tagging an animal means that an individual or organization have said that you will pick up the dog the next day.  If you don’t, the dog will be back on the list.

Bear with me, this story has a happy ending, but the sadder details need to be shared. In an attempt to save these helpless animals lives, shelter volunteers post pictures of the animals on the CODE RED list on Facebook in order for word to spread. It has spared a lot of lives, especially with such a short timeframe from finding out which will be on the list and when the time of euthanization will be.

Why does this have to happen in the first place? People get puppies because they think they are cute, then find out they are a lot of work and turn them in to shelters with no consequence. Other individuals cannot pay for the costs of their pet anymore, or have to move into places where they cannot keep their pet. A lot of animals are simply just found on the side or the road and turned into the shelter. Shelters don’t have room for all of the animals and when that is the case, animals get euthanized.

How is it determined who gets euthanized? Cats and dogs can be on the CODE RED list for a variety of reasons. It could be a simple URI (upper respiratory infection) that could be easily treated with antibiotics, skin problems that could also be easily treated, or the animals breed/personality could be classified as aggressive or too shy. This means that a lot of dogs that are perfectly healthy can be on the list just for their breed having a bad reputation.

All of this is super sad.

The puppy shared with me was on the list because of skin problems.

Shelter Picture

My friend had shared the photo with me because she had heard that my boyfriend, Brandon, was interested in getting a puppy in the next few months. He had just gotten his big boy job, an apartment by himself, and he was looking for a dog to make the place a little less quiet.

Brandon was debating between getting a chocolate lab or golden retriever. He wanted a puppy and was really interested in adopting a dog that needed a home. For the past few months I had been sending him photos of golden retrievers with fosters that needed homes. The timing was just never right.

When I sent Brandon the photo above, his response was “Can I go get him tonight?”.

The next few hours were chaos. It was a Friday afternoon and trying to get ahold of the shelter was extremely difficult. The dog’s photo didn’t have an ID number so they couldn’t locate the dog. When I finally found the dogs ID from searching the website, the employee at the shelter told me the dog wasn’t on the CODE RED list. I emailed the volunteers who disagreed. It turns out the volunteers know more than the employees. We wanted to pick the puppy up that night but the shelter closed at 6 and there was no way we could get to Fort Worth by then. Another friend at work was willing to do anything to help and called her husband to see if he could go get Ein. The shelter said adoptions couldn’t be done on the phone. I emailed the volunteers to ensure that the puppy was tagged, therefore wouldn’t be euthanized, and I was told we could pick him up anytime the next day. The shelter opened at noon, so naturally Brandon and I were there, with Brinkley in the backseat, at 11:15.

I’ll spare you the details of the two hours at the shelter. All I will say is that it is a very unorganized place, with far too many dogs going in, and not enough being adopted. To help my mental stability, I stayed in the car with Brinkley while Brandon waited to get the puppy. Two hours later, he got him.

Brandon brought the small, dirty, bloody puppy out to the car. Brinkley’s first reaction to seeing his brother? Growling. “WHAT IS THIS UGLY DOG DOING IN THE CAR?!”

Despite the muddy blond coat, the bloody back from the microchipping, and the incredibly scabbed face from an infection, the puppy was adorable. While small, you could tell he was a warrior who had faced many nights on the streets. Brandon decided to name him Albus Einstein (a little bit of science, a little bit of magic) but Ein for short.

It’s been two months with Ein and a lot of vet visits. I would share the detailed story but the photos below tell the story better. Ein had a tick on his neck, a tapeworm in his belly, and mites all over his body. The mites took advantage of his malnourished body and gave him scabs all over his face. Despite all of this, he was the happiest dog you’ve ever seen.

He is now mite free, double his weight, and still the happiest dog…ever. It took Brinkley a few hours, but the boys now act like brothers. They love to play and do everything together. They are truly happier together.

Through out all of it, I never saw any hesitation from Brandon about going through this journey to get Ein well. You could just see the joy in Ein and picturing him being put down for something that just needed simple antibiotics was unbearable. Ein has so much love to give, always wanting to be in your lap and giving you kisses. I swear he is always smiling.

Ein now spends his time running laps around Brinkley, attempting to get the plunger from under the sink, and searching for any possible scrap of food he can find.

The pictures below show Ein from the day Brandon adopted him to now.

First Day

First Day

Two Weeks Later

Two Weeks Later- First Time at the Dog Park!

3 weeks after getting Ein

3 Weeks after getting Ein

1 Month after being adopted

1 month after being adopted

Sleepy boys 

A month and a half after being adopted

2 months! Patio Dogs

2 months after adoption. Mite free!

Brinkley Turns One

I had been planning Brinkley’s 1^st Birthday since the day I got him. Probably before that. There was a blog post about it. He was going to have a Star Wars themed birthday and him and his friends would dress up as characters. He, of course, would be Han Solo. There would be Star Wars themed food. It was going to be great.

Well, that didn’t work out.

It turns out that dogs probably don’t want to wear costumes when it’s Texas Summer. It also turns out that coming up with an elaborate themed menu for lots of people probably wouldn’t work with a girl on a very tight budget. So that plan was scratched.

Instead, Brinkley had a Luau. My mom and I came up with this plan when digging through my dress up stash I had while growing up. While going through it, we put the dogs in ensembles. Beau was more into it than Brinkley.

Proof:

Both Brinkley and Beau seemed to enjoy the Leis so the Luau it was. We didn’t roast a pig but we DID have hot dogs. I headed to the dollar store to pick up some more leis for all the dogs. They only had packs that had leis for the neck, ankles and head. That actually worked out since Roxie’s neck is the size of an ankle. While there, I grabbed a pack of party hats with the hope to get some hilarious pictures.

The party was at my parents house. They have a pool and Brinkley’s absolute most favorite thing to do is swim. He doesn’t even have to be fetching anything. He will just swim in circles. He does love to play fetch with pool noodles though, even if that’s not your intention. You can just be relaxing on one and he will immediately take it from you. It’s probably best for you to not look relaxed at all in the pool. If you looked relax it’s probably because you are floating. There is no floating when Brinkley’s in the pool. He thinks floating is drowning and he will swim after you, grab your wrist and drag you back to the steps. In fact, it’s probably just best if you just stand in waist deep. That’s your only guarantee that you won’t get “saved”.

Brinkley swam for hours on his birthday. The party started at 5 but just like a little kid, he wanted it to start early so he grabbed his Lady and they began swimming. His 4 doggie friends joined around 5. None of them particularly enjoyed the pool, but their parentals sure did enjoy making them try.

After swimming, the humans and pups both ate. The dogs enjoyed cupcakes made with yogurt frostings and Brinkley’s favorite food, bacon, as the topping.  The doggy cupcake part of the party lasted a whole 30 seconds.

The last part of the party was presents. My mom and I had picked up a few toys for Brink but I had NO idea that everyone else would have the same plan. At first Brinkley wasn’t so into the whole opening presents thing. He was afraid of the tissue paper. Seriously, I wish I was joking. When he realized that bones, chew toys, and Frisbees were underneath the tissue paper he manned up.

The dog has never had so many toys in his life. And the best part is it seems like he wants them all to be sure that they are equally loved. I will throw the fake branch and he will come back with the cookie Frisbee. I will throw the cookie Frisbee he will bring back the water bottle cow. I’ll throw the water bottle cow and he will bring back the green dog.

It probably seems insane to throw a birthday party for a dog. It might be. But anyone who is a true dog lover knows the happiness a dog can bring to their life. To see something get so excited to see you after a long day can’t help but put a smile on your face. If having a birthday party for your dog to pay them back for being the most loyal living thing in your life is crazy, I’m okay with being crazy. 

More photos of the fun:

Brink's First Sleepover

One of the most memorable moments in any child’s life is their first sleepover. The same probably couldn’t be said about dogs, but God knows I tried.

One of my very best friend’s Becky recently got a puppy. I found the dog love of my life in May, and she found hers in October. She decided on a longhaired miniature dachshund and named her Roxie. I’ll refer to her from now on as Roxie Doxie.

You could say Becky and I have a lot in common. Both of our names are Rebecca. Both of our last names start with L. We went to the same college. We had the same major and minor. We were in the same sorority. We studied abroad at the same time, at the same school, stayed in the same dorm, and had all of our classes together. I mean look at this picture and try not to say we are essentially the same person except for our hair color…

We even think the same. We both needed to be somewhere but as usual, had a hard time picking something to wear. We both changed clothes and when I picked her up at her house, we found out we had the same solution. 

Anyway, we have another thing in common. We both fell in love with a picture of a dog before the dog itself. The difference is that even though our dogs are only 4 months apart in age, they are pretttttty different in size.

Roxie Doxie maybe weighs 5 pounds. Brinkley maybe weighs 80.

The first time Brinkley met Roxie Doxie, she was 2 pounds. He was confused. He knew she was a living thing, but she didn’t move. It made him nervous and he threw up.

Like all puppies, Roxie Doxie grew up fast and was all over the place before you knew it. When they were reacquainted, slowpoke Brinkley didn’t even try to keep up. He sat and watched as little bit ran around as fast as she could.

Becky came to visit at the apartment and brought Roxie Doxie for a trial run before she left Roxie Doxie for a weekend when she went out of town. With two puppies so different in size, you would be crazy to not be concerned. It’s basically leaving a rabbit with Lennie of Of Mice and Men.

Everyone was surprise when Brinkley laid down on his side, opened up his arms and Roxie ran right into them. He continued to lie down on her level and let her run all over them. She continued to be fearless and dominant. It worked out.

Roxie ended up spending a weekend with us a few weeks later. I was anticipating it all week while Brinkley remained clueless. When Roxie was dropped off, they picked up where they left off. They played for hours, not even stopping for a water break.

The sleepover was pretty similar to a child one. They “watched” movies, ate bones, and did a lot of playing. And as usual, the mom ended up tired.

Pictures of Brinkley and Roxie Doxie:

Always Busy!

Family Photo.

Playing and chewing. Multitasking at its best.

Little Bone for the Big Guy. Big Bone for the Little Girl.

Growing Pains

There comes a time in every child’s life where someone question’s their well being, and the parent instinctually wants to fight. In this case, the child is Brinkley.

It was just another day at the park. Saturday brought beautiful weather so it wasn’t a hard decision to take Brinkley on a walk through some trails to tire him out rather than deal with him constantly putting slimy toys on my shoulder.

We WERE having fun. Trails were something new for Brinkley. Brandon and I watched as Brinkley led the way through the weaving rocky trails. Every 30 seconds Brinkley would turn around, make sure we were still following, and wait in place if he thought we were too far away. He would stay on the narrow trail the whole time except to pee. His instincts chose the paths and the paths led us to a beautiful lake filled with fisherman and row boats.

Proof of fun being had:

I have to give Denton credit, I didn’t think the 50-cent-double-well-drink city could be so gorgeous.

The three of us were having a good time until we walked through the dog park before leaving. Brandon tossed the mud colored tennis ball a few more times while I watched all the dog have their play dates. All of a sudden, a lady walks up to me, and in a disturbed voice says, “Oh my, does your dog have a hip problem?”

Cue internal Becca wanting to punch someone for the first time in her life.

No. No he doesn’t. My 7-month-old puppy does not have a hip problem.

While I am trying to rationally come up with a halfway polite answer, the lady then answers herself.

“Oh yes, he definitely has a hip problem.”

This isn’t my child. I didn’t create this adorable dog out of my own genes. But that doesn’t matter. This lady was accusing MY dog of a hip problem. She was bluntly telling me what was the matter with my dog.

A lot of feelings arose once these words left her mouth.  A lot of them probably weren’t necessary. A lot of them probably weren’t her intentions. Either way, whether she meant to or not, this lady made me a crazy woman for the rest of the day.

My thought process the rest of the day:

Who does she think she is? Is she Supervet? Did she study Golden Retriever hips at Harvard? Oh honestly, she thinks she knows my dog better than me? Who wears green stretch pants anyway? Go home and organize your embarrassingly large collection of jean jackets. Believe me lady, if he had a hip problem I would know about it. Come to think of it, he has been laying on the couch for three hours without moving. Maybe he does have a hip problem. Oh my gosh, my seven month old dog has a hip problem. The stupid lady with the grown out roots was right. Will Brinkley be able to have his first birthday party? Maybe I should take him to the emergency vet. I should cook him some bacon. He loves bacon. He needs it for his bad hips. I’m going to cook bacon.

I’m sure that when this happens with an actual child, the feelings are exponentially stronger, and the mean and insane thoughts are even more severe.

After a long shower and a beer, I calmed down long enough to realize Brinkley was fine but tired. He didn’t need to go to the vet, and if he has a hip problem, the vet will let me know and we will address that issue when and if it happens.

But, as of now, Brinkley has no hip problem. He runs like a free spirited, clumsy puppy who is getting used to his rapidly growing body. The evil woman who managed to ruin half of my Saturday did teach me something though.

Whether it is because of a hip problem or something else, one day Brinkley will not be an invincible puppy. He will be slowed down or in pain for one reason or another. There’s nothing I can do to change it. All I can do is give him all the love in the world, cook countless strips of bacon, and let him sleep on my bed even if it means lint rolling my bedspread. 

More Brinkley:

Brinkley Timeline:

Wiggly Field

I'm going to begin this post by acknowledging what many might think. Yes, I am lame. I would rather curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and my dog than be at a smoky bar filled with people who are trying too hard. And while this may be lame, it makes me very happy. As does taking Brinkley to Wiggly Field on the weekends.

Wiggly Field is a dog park in Denton that has more charm each time I go. I have been to a handful of dog parks since getting Brinkley and none can compare to the fun had at Wiggly Field. I've been trying to think of the reasons why and have come up with a short and sweet list.

1. The people. Most of the owners at Wiggly Field are cute families and normal people. They aren't crazies who are overly obsessed with their dog (and I'M saying this). The people who are crazies aren't dog obsessed but literally crazy Denton folk, who are wildly entertaining.
2. The dogs. I think there's something in the water that makes the Denton dogs love water. Brinkley can always find another dog who wants to frolic in the pond, regardless of the weather. 
3. The location. Unlike most of the other dog parks I've been to, Wiggly field has ponds, trails and trees. This provides a much more exciting view than the Plano dog park which features dried grass, mounds of poop, no trees, and plenty of fire hydrants. 

Anyway, this post wasn't really meant for anything more than to post a string of pictures of Brinkley having the time of his life at Wiggly Field. And me having the time of mine with fancy iPhone picture editing apps. Enjoy.

Safety First

It’s safe to say my level of crazy has once again reached new heights. What did it this time?  A bone.

I don’t have kids, but I do have a dog. And right now, that is enough for me. Randomly it hits me that I am in charge of this living things life. In charge of it’s safety and happiness. I’ve got the food, cleaning, and training under control. It’s the safe and happy part that I lose my mind over. This living, breathing puppy just wants to make me happy. And I could cry when I think about it because I’m a very emotional person. Something so little, so loyal, and so harmless has latched onto me. Now I must protect it and be there for it. ….a little overwhelming sometimes.

The most recent example of this was last night. I’d had a long day at work, and really wanted to enjoy the Cowboys game. I decided to hang out with my friends at “Monday Fun Day”, which I have never done simply because going meant putting Brinkley in his crate. When getting home from work, the last thing I want to do is think about putting him back in his crate. Nights are when we play and cuddle. I knew that I was going to be dog sitting him and Major the rest of the week though so I decided to go.

On my way home from work, I kept thinking about Brinkley’s happiness. My scale of happy for him is how much does his tail wag? Being in his crate probably wouldn’t make it wag. So what would make it better? A bone. He loves bones.

I’ve never let Brinkley have a bone in his crate. I’ve always feared he would choke on it while I was gone. But I wanted to make him happy so I put two bones in his crate to enjoy while I was gone.

Brandon reassured me all the way to Monday Fun Day that Brinkley would be fine and at first I believed him. I said a prayer out loud asking God to watch Brinkley and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. I ordered a beer to help me relax and I watched the cowboys. About every thirty minutes my mind would wander from the conversation at the table to Brinkley and his bone. The sounds of him pathetically gagging on a bone haunted my thoughts. Every thirty minutes turned into every fifteen, ten, five, two. Eventually it was pretty much all I could think about.

Brinkley don’t die.  Where is our check? Brinkley just go to sleep. The Cowboys need a new center. I will never forgive myself if he is dead. I would never have kids. I was supposed to make him homemade dog treats this weekend and he won’t be around for it. I’m going to be so dependent on antidepressants. Brinkley, please be alive.

I’m fairly confident that it was obvious that I was no longer having a Monday Fun Day by the look on my face, because Brandon took one look at me and insisted that we leave immediately…after the Cowboys get a 4^th down.

I said my goodbyes, and skipped hugging because it would take too long. I walked to the car, got in the passenger seat, and immediately started bawling. Not quiet, random tears. I sounded like a raccoon getting hit by a car. I probably looked like one too with my mascara all over my eyes. Except I would have to be a naked mole rat with raccoon eyes or something because my face gets super red when I cry. I was wailing, uncontrollably. I tried to explain to the baffled Brandon what was wrong but I could barely take breaths between the bawling. I finally was able to scream, “I DON’T WANT BRINKLEY TO BE DEADDDDDD”.

I’m sure this is shocking but Brinkley was still alive. The sight of him jumping in my lap and wagging his tail made me bawl more, obviously.  The unnecessary traumatizing night was enough to allow myself to let Brinkley sleep with me in bed all night.

To be honest, I don’t have a moral to the story. I can’t say that I won’t ever give him a bone in his crate again because I think that is irrational. But I also can’t honestly say I’m ever going to be calm when thinking about it. I don’t know how parents can be sane when letting their kids grow up, but I have a newfound respect for them.

All I know is I should probably apologize to my unborn children in advance for their ridiculously paranoid future mom.

 I'll go ahead and be a normal mom for a second and just post cute pictures of my dog:

Brothers bonding over bones

I'm soooooo comfortable

Sleepy boy has advanced to riding in the backseat!

Seriously, he sleeps like this.

"Umm, Mom, can we get me some more bones please?"

Enjoying a wonderful Sunday afternoon