“I love my birthday toy Silly Willie’s gave me” reports Dudley

‘Tis the night before Christmas and all through the town,
Every shelter is full – we are lost but not found,
Our numbers are hung on our kennels so bare,
We hope every minute that someone will care,
They’ll come to adopt us and give us the call,
“Come here, Max and Sparkie – come fetch your new ball!!”
But now we sit here and think of the days
We were treated so fondly – we had cute, baby ways.
Now we’re no longer young and we’re no longer new.

So out the back door we were thrown like the trash,
They reacted so quickly – why were they so rash?
We “jump on the children”; “don’t come when they call”;
We “bark when they leave us”; climb over the wall.
We should have been neutered, we should have been spayed,
Now we suffer the consequence of the errors THEY made.
If only they’d trained us, if only we knew,
We’d have done what they asked us and worshiped them, too.
We were left in the backyard, or worse – left to roam,
Now we’re tired and lonely and out of a home.
They dropped us off here and they kissed us good-bye,
“Maybe someone else will give you a try.”

So now here we are, all confused and alone,
In a shelter with others who long for a home.
The kind workers come through with a meal and a pat,
With so many to care for, they can’t stay to chat,
They move to the next kennel, giving each of us cheer,
We know that they wonder how long we’ll be here.
We lay down to sleep and sweet dreams fill our heads,
Of a home filled with love and our own cozy beds.
Then we wake to see sad eyes, brimming with tears,
Our friends filled with emptiness, worry, and fear.

If you can’t adopt us and there’s no room at the inn,
Could you help with the bills and fill our food bin?
We count on your kindness each day of the year,
Can you give more than hope to everyone here?
Please make a donation to pay for the heat
And help get us something special to eat.
The shelter that cares for us wants us to live,
And more of us will, if more people will give.

-Author Unknown

Pet Name: Oscar

Oscar’s Story:
Oscar came to us just as fast as the winds blew during hurricane Charlie in 2004. With no power for several days that followed the hurricane our door was open. As Oscar walked by he felt that the door was opened for him. He walked inside the house, jumped into a chair that looked comfortable to him and began purring. How could we resist those big greens eyes begging us to love him. He melted our hearts and has been jumping into that chair ever since.

Pet Name: Pistol

Pistol’s Story:
I adopted Pistol afer losing my 15 and 16 year old father and son cats in 2000. Pistol is an orange Maine Coon that looks very similar to my 16 year old named “Punkin”. Pistol is full of Piss and Vinegar and is my little soul mate. He thinks he is a cross between a dog and a little man in a fur coat. He loves to make me laugh. He’s one of God’s little angles that I have been blessed to have. Sherri Keenan

Pet Name: Kitty

Kitty’s Story:
I was never much of a cat lover growing up. My best friend and her son had never been to the Humane Society before. I live right down the street from the HS. One day they came to visit so we decided to go and look at the pets. I went into the room with the cats and took one look at him and knew I had to have him. It truly was “love at first sight.” I also remember telling myself that I would never be the type of person who would dress up their cat in clothing. Well, that did not last long either. I was out getting pet food one day and saw these antlers and I could not resist. Well, they only stayed on long enough for me to get one picture but he sure did look cute. However, he did not look so happy! Kitty has been a great joy in my life and I am so thankfull to have him. I would encouage anyone to adopt a pet, it has been the best thing that I have done. You save a pets life and you have the opportunity to give them a better one as well.

My Best Friend - Dempsey - 6-1-88 to 2-24-03

I got him from a pound in Miami. He was beaten and abused. The previous owner used to hang him by his neck and threatened to let him loose on I-95 if the Rescue Center refused to take him. A dog can go two ways after being abused; he can cower in a corner and be leery of man, or he can fight back and grow mean. Dempsey chose mean. He was so mean, no one in the animal shelter could pet him, take him for a walk, or even get him out of his cage, unless they wanted some stitches for their efforts. (Thank God, this was a no-kill center.) He was in that cage for five weeks, until I showed up. I walked down this long aisle of yapping dogs, cages piled three high upon each other, not knowing exactly what type of dog I was even looking for. This strange dog, who never once barked at me, walked to the back of the cage, then ran and bashed his head against the front of the cage, hoping I’d take notice of him, over the howling of the other dogs. When I looked back at him, he was standing like a statute, but he was staring straight at me, eyeball to eyeball; not even a blink! I walked on. Dempsey repeated this same action, three times in a row. I’d turned each time, and there was that statute; those eyes, now peeking around the cage. I asked the lady to let him out, so I could get a feel for him. Well, this poor lady was extremely reluctant to pull him out of that cage, but gathering up her courage, she reached in and grabbed him, like she had an alligator by the tail, then dropped him on the floor. He ran over to me, rolled over on his stomach for me to pet him, and we were partners, buddies and pals from that day until his death. He was a once-in-a-lifetime dog; you don’t get to pick a dog, they pick you. About two weeks after I got Dempsey, (I was still trying to get him socialized to the neighborhood, the house, people, and other dogs), I was walking him, off the leash. I lived in a brand new development, about 1 mile from the Everglades in Miami, and only about 5 or 6 houses were scattered about. Dempsey was wandering, along the side of the street, about two to three lots ahead of me. Practically, all of the lots were empty of houses; only trees and woods. No street lights, but I had a flashlight. From out of the darkness, two dogs attacked me from the back of a house. Without a bark or a sound, Dempsey turned and ran back towards me (he was farther away of me than the two attacking dogs, but still beat it back before they could get to me), jumped up into mid-air and caught one dog by the throat, bit into him with a vengeance, then shook the other dog like a rag-doll. Howling and yelping, with blood a flowing, that dog high-tailed it out of there faster than a lawyer heading to the scene of an accident. Then, Dempsey, slowly but surely, started stalking the second dog. All the while, the other dog was hesitantly, but ever so slowly, backing up. Throughout this entire incident, Dempsey kept looking at the second dog (with his unwavering stare), and then back at me, as if to say, “Get going! Get out of here!” So, I headed up the road, and when I was about three to four lots down the street, Dempsey slowly backed away, ran and caught up to me. Never got a scratch on me, or him. Talk about loyalty to a person! And smart! I used to teach him tricks. He’d stare at me, intensely, endeavoring to understand what I was attempting to get across to him. He completely mastered the “roll-over” trick (which is hard to teach a dog) in only three attempts. He’d wake me up, sometimes at night, because he’d snuggle next to me and lick my face, for no reason. The Southeast Volusia Humane Society has a once as year fund raiser where they try to get people to adopt pets, give donations, pet supplies and food. A lot of people, with their own dogs, attend. They have bleachers set-up and put on shows and have various contests like “Best Dog Trick,” “The Dog Who Looks Most Like Their Owner,” “Best Costume,” etc. Dempsey won UNBEATABLE! He won the “Best Costume Award,” three years in a row. I’d dress him up in a Santa Claus suit (that was red and went completely around his body, from head to tail, with a black vinyl belt around his waist), a scarf around his neck, antlers on his head, a pair of sunglasses (they weren’t attached to his head; I’d just put them behind his ears and he’d never try to shake then off), plus 4 black vinyl boots on all four of his paws. He really had to lift his feet up, so as not to stumble in them, which made his gait look awkward and the people in the bleachers would laugh themselves silly. I knew he did it just to make me happy because I’d clap and egg him on. What dog, especially one of Dempsey’s temperament, would get all fancied-up like that, if not to please his owner. After three years, we figured we’d better drop out and give some other dog a chance. DEMPSEY 6/1/88-2/24/03 Rest in peace, good buddy, and hope to see you again in a better world. p.s. Dempsey was the first pound dog I ever got. Since his death, I have never gotten any of my other dogs except from the pound; they have all been the best dogs of my life. Do YOURSELF a favor, get your next dog from an animal shelter. “If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven. And very, very few persons.” James Thurber RAINBOW BRIDGE Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together…. Author unknown… “If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.” Will Rogers, 1897-1935

Poochy Baby!

Later that day my friend and I were outside by the pool, I had gone inside to get something and my friend yelled to me in the house, “There is a dog at your gate!” My son who was 18 months old ran to the gate, and said look mom a dog and asked “Should I let him in?” I told him to open the gate. So he did and in came one of the dogs that ran with the pack, it was the last dog, number 5.

When My husband who was gone that day returned and saw another much larger dog in the house, he about had a heart attack, and thought I was crazy to let a wild dog in our house especially with a small child. We already had two other smaller dogs so this one would make three.

He immediately took to the dog and the dog to him, he sat down and starting removing ticks from the dog, gave her a bath and cleaned her up. We asked our son what we should call her, he said Poochy Baby. So we call her Pooch. Pooch is a mixed breed, but looks like Border Collie and German Sheppard.

Well, that was then, this is now, fifty ticks and 15 years later, and a move to New Smyrna Beach, and Pooch who has become my husband’s dog is still with our family.

When I talk about this story I realize that Pooch picked us out, she probably thought, there is a nice family, they have a mommy and a daddy and a little boy for me to play with. They have a nice big fenced in back yard for me to run around in and I will get three meals a day, and that is a lot better than running with the wild bunch.

Sent in by Susan Milewski

]]> http://www.silly-willies.com/2009/03/running-with-the-pack-poochs-story/feed/ 0 http://www.silly-willies.com/2009/03/a-letter-from-a-shelter-manager/ http://www.silly-willies.com/2009/03/a-letter-from-a-shelter-manager/#comments Fri, 13 Mar 2009 20:13:23 +0000 admin http://silly-willies.com/?p=150 I think our society needs a huge “Wake-up” call. As a shelter manager, I am going to share a little insight with you all…a view from the inside if you will.

First off, all of you breeders/sellers should be made to work in the “back” of an animal shelter for just one day. Maybe if you saw the life drain from a few sad, lost, confused eyes, you would change your mind about breeding and selling to people you don’t even know.

That puppy you just sold will most likely end up in my shelter when it’s not a cute little puppy anymore. So how would you feel if you knew that there’s about a 90% chance that dog will never walk out of the shelter it is going to be dumped at? Purebred or not! About 50% of all of the dogs that are “owner surrenders” or “strays”, that come into my shelter are purebred dogs.

The most common excuses I hear are; “We are moving and we can’t take our dog (or cat).” Really? Where are you moving too that doesn’t allow pets? Or they say “The dog got bigger than we thought it would”. How big did you think a German Shepherd would get? “We don’t have time for her”. Really? I work a 10-12 hour day and still have time for my 6 dogs! “She’s tearing up our yard”. How about making her a part of your family? They always tell me “We just don’t want to have to stress about finding a place for her we know she’ll get adopted, she’s a good dog”.

Odds are your pet won’t get adopted & how stressful do you think being in a shelter is? Well, let me tell you, your pet has 72 hours to find a new family from the moment you drop it off. Sometimes a little longer if the shelter isn’t full and your dog manages to stay completely healthy. If it sniffles, it dies. Your pet will be confined to a small run/kennel in a room with about 25 other barking or crying animals. It will have to relieve itself where it eats and sleeps. It will be depressed and it will cry constantly for the family that abandoned it. If your pet is lucky, I will have enough volunteers in that day to take him/her for a walk. If I don’t, your pet won’t get any attention besides having a bowl of food slid under the kennel door and the waste sprayed out of its pen with a high-powered hose. If your dog is big, black or any of the “Bully” breeds (pit bull, rottie, mastiff, etc) it was pretty much dead when you walked it through the front door.

Those dogs just don’t get adopted. It doesn’t matter how ‘sweet’ or ‘well behaved’ they are.

If your dog doesn’t get adopted within its 72 hours and the shelter is full, it will be destroyed. If the shelter isn’t full and your dog is good enough, and of a desirable enough breed it may get a stay of execution, but not for long . Most dogs get very kennel protective after about a week and are destroyed for showing aggression. Even the sweetest dogs will turn in this environment. If your pet makes it over all of those hurdles chances are it will get kennel cough or an upper respiratory infection and will be destroyed because shelters just don’t have the funds to pay for even a $100 treatment.

Here’s a little euthanasia 101 for those of you that have never witnessed a perfectly healthy, scared animal being “put-down”.

First, your pet will be taken from its kennel on a leash. They always look like they think they are going for a walk happy, wagging their tails. Until they get to “The Room”, every one of them freaks out and puts on the brakes when we get to the door. It must smell like death or they can feel the sad souls that are left in there, it’s strange, but it happens with every one of them. Your dog or cat will be restrained, held down by 1 or 2 vet techs depending on the size and how freaked out they are. Then a euthanasia tech or a vet will start the process. They will find a vein in the front leg and inject a lethal dose of the “pink stuff”. Hopefully your pet doesn’t panic from being restrained and jerk. I’ve seen the needles tear out of a leg and been covered with the resulting blood and been deafened by the yelps and screams. They all don’t just “go to sleep”, sometimes they spasm for a while, gasp for air and defecate on themselves.

When it all ends, your pets corpse will be stacked like firewood in a large freezer in the back with all of the other animals that were killed waiting to be picked up like garbage. What happens next? Cremated? Taken to the dump? Rendered into pet food? You’ll never know and it probably won’t even cross your mind. It was just an animal and you can always buy another one, right?

I hope that those of you that have read this are bawling your eyes out and can’t get the pictures out of your head I deal with everyday on the way home from work.

I hate my job, I hate that it exists & I hate that it will always be there unless you people make some changes and realize that the lives you are affecting go much farther than the pets you dump at a shelter.

Between 9 and 11 MILLION animals die every year in shelters and only you can stop it. I do my best to save every life I can but rescues are always full, and there are more animals coming in everyday than there are homes.

My point to all of this DON’T BREED OR BUY WHILE SHELTER PETS DIE!

Hate me if you want to. The truth hurts and reality is what it is. I just hope I maybe changed one persons mind about breeding their dog, taking their loving pet to a shelter, or buying a dog. I hope that someone will walk into my shelter and say “I saw this and it made me want to adopt”. THAT WOULD MAKE IT WORTH IT