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Lance’s Dog Patch
A blog by the author of: Lance: A Spirit Unbroken


2/9/2025 1 Comment

Aloha Augie!

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Following our re-homing of Heidi, my wife Clara and I felt the guilt and sense of loss a dog lover feels whenever circumstances dictate surrendering a dog. Taking a bit of the sting out of the experience, we were extremely grateful Heidi had found what was for her the perfect home. I could not have, in good conscience, taken Heidi to a shelter. If  we hadn’t found the family we did for Heidi, Clara and I would have had to endure being owners of an antisocial, hyperactive dog. We’d had some practice in that area thanks to Lance, but neither of us would have enjoyed a repeat performance. Owners who have lived dogs like Lance and Heidi know how complicating and isolating such ownership can be.

We visited Heidi several times in 2022. Her new owners sent us photos from time to time. In every photo, Heidi had contentment written all over her face. Clara and I swallowed our pride and assured each other we had done the right thing. We came to the painful conclusion that whatever it took to right the “Heidi Ship”, we didn’t have it. Her reformation was a miracle that Clara and I had the good fortune to witness.

Our experience with Heidi taught us a lesson: it’s critical to recognize and admit to your limitations. Sometimes it’s okay to say “when”! I’m confident Heidi is happy we did.
Following Heidi’s departure, Clara and I contented ourselves with our cat. At least I did. Clara spoke of getting another dog. Of course, it would be a rescue. What kind? I needed an older, socialized, and—because of my declining health—low energy dog😊 Ideally, a dog with a track record  so we’d know what we were getting into.

We started visiting local shelters. There, we were received somewhat coldly. Maybe I’ll write an essay on that experience some day but, for now, let’s just say we found these shelters to be anything but consumer friendly.

In mid-April of 2023, my chronically bad back finally caught up with me. I had been dealing with flareups for decades. I wouldn’t recover from this final attack on my lower spine. I was only able to get around with a walker or a rollator. Among other things, that meant no dog. My wife’s bad knees and my back made us unsuited for dog ownership, especially the dog walking part.

My poor health dictated a poor quality of life for the rest of 2023: unsuccessful back surgery, a second bout of COVID and a life-threatening attack of sepsis rounded out the year.

2024 started with a bang: a mystery virus  hospitalized me for eight days. Upon being discharged,  I resumed rehabbing my back, without seeing much success.

In early April, Clara spotted a post on Facebook. An owner was looking to re-home her puppy. She was living with her husband and mother-in-law, both of whom didn’t like dogs. She had a four-month-old beagle/dachshund named Gruff. The owner said Gruff was house broken and good with people,  dogs and cats. She said he had all his shots and had no medical issues. She said she had to get rid of him because the other people living with her did not like dogs.

While still on the phone with Clara, the owner said she could drop her dog off in two hours(10:00p.m.)  We deferred until the following morning. That’s when we met the owner and her dog outside the Candy Kettle Store in Marshalls Creek, Pennsylvania. The owner got out of her car carrying Gruff and handed him to Clara who in turn handed him to me sitting in the front seat for our car. The lady said, “Goodbye!”, hustled back to her car, and took off. Gruff was whining that doggy whine a dog makes when it senses change that it doesn’t understand. Gruff didn’t whine for long. He settled down on my lap for the ride to his new home. The first thing I noticed about Gruff—he stunk! I believe a dog’s smell says a lot about his living conditions and Gruff’s stench told quite a story.

When we got home, I let Gruff loose in our fenced yard. After relieving himself (that was promising!), he entered our house without hesitation . The first thing I did was go inside, wash my hands, and change my shirt and pants to rid myself of doggy odor. Clara gave Gruff a bath in the kitchen sink. When the bathing , rinsing and drying was completed, I don’t know if Gruff appreciated the fact he smelled better but we did.

Gruff’s previous owner had given us a box of dog toys and a large bag of kibble. Clara checked the kibble’s ingredients and immediately went shopping for a healthier alternative. It turned out Gruff was far from house broken. Because of my limited mobility, Clara did the house breaking duties, going outside with Gruff every hour and praising him when he did his business. It took about a month to a month and a half for Gruff to “get it”.

Speaking of Gruff, neither Clara nor I liked that name. I came up with Augie. For those old enough to remember, I lifted the name from an old cartoon show, Augie Doggie and Doggie Daddy.

The local vet doubts Augie is a dachshund/beagle mix. She said he has a “German shepherd’s tail”. None of us see any beagle in him at all. More likely, Whippet. Someday, we’ll do the DNA thing.

There is a definite physical resemblance between Augie and Heidi. They share the dachshund part. Unlike Heidi, Augie has turned out to be very people-friendly. Rambunctious, yes!  Antisocial, not at all! Like Heidi, we took Augie to Sit, Stay, n’ Play in Stroudsburg, Pa. for obedience training. Unlike Heidi, Augie didn’t terrorize the staff  and other dogs. With the other canines in the class, he displayed friendly curiosity.

As of today, we’ve had Augie for about ten months. Clara is able to give Augie a short walk most every day. I can hobble out in the backyard and throw his ball for him to chase. Whenever I drag myself out into the garage to do a workout on the universal, I let Augie entertain himself inside and outside the garage.

Last year in warmer weather, I took Augie outside and went through some of the commands he learned in obedience school. I’ll do the same this year as soon as winter ends.

On the agenda:
1-Getting a second dog to keep Augie company —and busy.
2-Hiring a dog walker.
3-Perhaps a return visit to doggie school.

Before we got Augie, I had been looking for an older dog that wouldn’t test my physical health. There are times I feel I’m short changing Augie because of my physical limitations. Of course, being a dog, Augie can’t complain even if he wanted to. Whenever I feel I’m not doing as much as I’d like to for Augie, I comfort myself in knowing we helped him escape from a bad situation. Knowing how active he is inside the house as well as outside, I don’t think he would have fared very well in a smelly house with at least two occupants that didn’t like dogs.

February 2025. I’m sitting here putting the finishing touches on this blog entry. Augie is calmly lying on my lap. That won’t last for long 😊

1 Comment

1/24/2025 0 Comments

Jimmy, Lance, and a Second Chance

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Chapter 1-Jimmy Meets Lance!

There’s that dog, again!
Every time Jimmy Tucker walks by this house in his hometown of Mount Bethel, Pennsylvania, a black and white dog charges at him. The dog’s doing the same thing today. Just like all the other times, he’s restrained by a short wire attached to his collar. That wire, called a lead, is fastened to a run, a long, thick cord attached to a pulley system supported by two solid wooden posts thirty feet apart. The dog can only walk between the posts, so he can’t reach Jimmy.

Today, Jimmy decided to talk to the dog for the first time. From the road, the ten-year-old  called out. “Hey, doggie! Are you friendly? Are you a good dog?”
A man raking leaves in the back yard shouted, “His name is Lance!”
“Mister, is he your dog?” asked Jimmy.
The man grumbled, “Yes, I’m afraid so. Never really liked dogs but I’m stuck with him.”
“Does…Does he bite?” asked Jimmy, with concern in his voice.
“Hasn’t bitten anyone so far, at least not that I’m aware of,” the man said. “And he better not, if he knows what’s good for him!”
Feeling a little more confident, Jimmy asked, “Can I pet him?”
The man warned, “Go ahead if you want to. Just be careful. Don’t blame me if he doesn’t like you.”
Jimmy walked over to Lance. The dog jumped up on the young boy, knocking him over.
The man laughed. “I forgot to tell you, he’s very energetic.”

Jimmy picked himself up off the ground. He approached Lance a second time, being extra careful so the dog wouldn’t knock him over again. Jimmy gently patted Lance on the head. Then, he sat down on the lawn. Lance took a seat right next to him.
While Lance licked him on his face, Jimmy called out to the dog’s owner, “Mister, what—”
The man interrupted, “My name is Mister Martin.”
“Mister Martin, what kind of dog is he?” asked Jimmy.
In a friendlier tone, Mr. Martin answered, “He’s a border collie. Supposed to be smart as a whip, or so they tell me.”
“He’s cool!” Jimmy exclaimed.
Mr. Martin answered, “I suppose so.” Seeing an opportunity, he asked Jimmy, “You want him? He’s yours.”
“Really?” Jimmy’s felt a rush of excitement. I’m going to get my very first dog! Just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming, Jimmy asked again, “Really?”
“You bet!” Mr. Martin sweetened the deal. “I’ll throw in the doghouse and run for free. I’ll even bring them to your place. Where do you live?”
 “Real near here.” Jimmy pointed with his finger. “Maybe six or sev-sev-seven houses that way. You know the apartment houses?”
“Sure do. Perfect. Do we have a deal?” asked Mr. Martin.
“Yup!” Jimmy couldn’t believe his good luck. Wait til I tell mom!

Jimmy petted Lance some more. Leaning on the rake he’d been using, Mr. Martin gave it some more thought. “I don’t think it’s that easy. I’d have to get the okay from your parents.”
Not letting anything dampen his enthusiasm, Jimmy confidently said, “Oh, my mom won’t mind. I know it!” Jimmy hesitated before he was able to continue. “I betcha she says yes!”
Unconvinced, Mr. Martin said, “I’m sure she probably will, but I’ll have to check just to be sure. What’s your name?”
“Jimmy.”
“Jimmy what?” Mr. Martin asked impatiently.
“Jimmy Tucker.”
“And your phone number?” asked Mr. Martin.
Anxious, Jimmy answered with a stutter. “F-F-Five seven zero…five nine five…”Jimmy had to remain quiet a few moments before continuing. “…five six two f-five.”
Mr. Martin asked a question that embarrassed Jimmy. “Do you get tongue-tied, kid?”
Disappointed in himself, Jimmy answered, “Yeah, sometimes.”

Lance’s owner took out his cell phone and dialed the number Jimmy had given him. He had a brief conversation with Margaret Tucker, Jimmy’s mother.
When it was over, he hung up the phone and walked over to Jimmy. “Son, unfortunately, you can’t take the dog. Your mother tells me you live in an apartment where only cats are allowed.”
Overwhelmed with disappointment, Jimmy replied, “No way! That isn’t fair! If you can have a c-cat, why can’t you have a dog?”
“Take that up with your landlord. Believe me, I’m just as sorry as you are.”
Jimmy got back on his feet. Disappointed, he said, “Bye, Lance. See you, Mister Martin.”
“Son, too bad we couldn’t do business.”
While Mr. Martin resumed raking the yard, Jimmy walked back out onto the road, but then turned around and called out, “Sir, c-c-c-could I walk Lance sometimes?”
Mr. Martin stopped his yardwork and shouted back to Jimmy, “I don’t know. Are you strong enough for him?”
Jimmy proudly exclaimed, “Yes, I am! I can do almost fifteen push-ups!”
Mr. Martin laughed: “Okay, Superman! But I still have to get your parents’ permission for that too.”
“I know they’ll let me. I know it!”

Mr. Martin decided to end the conversation. “Tell you what...I’m busy right now. I’ll call your folks later and we’ll see what happens.”
“I just live with my mom.” Jimmy was loaded with enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, Mister Martin. It’s prac...prac…tically a done deal!”
For the second time, Jimmy headed home, but he didn’t get far before he made a quick turn and rushed back to Mr. Martin’s yard. “I just thought of something, Mr. Martin. I don’t have a leash.”
“Don’t worry. I have one. Good as new. Hardly ever been used. Now, how about you let me get back to work?”
“Okay, see ya!”

Jimmy left Mr. Martin’s property and ran straight home without stopping. When he got there, Jimmy couldn’t wait to tell his mom about his plan to walk Lance. As soon as he got in the door, he asked his mother, “You know that black and white dog that lives up the street and is always outside?”
Jimmy’s mother nodded her head. “Yes, I do. I’ve always felt bad for that poor pooch. He’s got to be lonely out there by himself all the time. But, like I just now told Mr. Martin on the phone, we’re not allowed to have dogs in our apartment.”
Jimmy frowned. “Yeah, I know.”
Jimmy’s mom tried to console him. “The owner of this apartment has the right to set the rules. At least, we have our cat Ashley. Someday, we’ll have a house of our own and then you’ll be able to get a dog. I promise.”
Jimmy had more to share with his mom. “Anyway, Lance doesn’t have to be by himself all the time anymore. Mr. Martin told me I could walk him if I wanted to, and I want to!”
Jimmy’s mother had a question. “Do you think you can manage a big dog like that all by yourself? He looks very strong to me.”
Jimmy was ready with an answer. “No problem. Like I told Mr. Martin, I can do lots of p…push-ups. And we don’t even have to get a leash. Mr. Martin will let me use his. Please, Mom! Can I, please?!”
After she thought it over, Jimmy’s mother said, “I don’t see why not. It’s worth a try. But, if he turns out to be a bit too much for you—”
Jimmy didn’t let his mom finish speaking. He blurted out, “He isn’t! I know he isn’t! Can I go walk him right now? Please?! Please?! Please?!”
Jimmy’s mom  was touched by her son’s plea. “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
Too emotional to speak,  he simply nodded his head in agreement.
“I’ll run it by your father just to make sure it’s okay with him too. I’m pretty sure it will be. Then, I’ll have to call Lance’s owner to—”

The phone rang. Jimmy’s mother answered it. “Mister Martin, hello! This is Margaret Tucker. My son was just telling me all about his visit with you. He says you’re okay with him walking your dog.”
From the other end of the line Lance’s owner said, “I don’t have any problem if you don’t. Your son just has to keep him on the leash, that’s all I ask. I don’t want any lawsuits.”
“Of course! I completely understand. Thank you for giving my son this opportunity. Jimmy’s wanted a dog all his life. This will be the next best thing. I’ll check with his father and get back to you.”
Mr. Martin said, “I’ll wait for your call.”
Margaret hung up the phone and turned to her son. “Let’s see what your dad says. I don’t think he’ll have an issue with this.”

An hour later, over the telephone, Roger Tucker, Jimmy’s father, gave his son permission to walk Lance. Jimmy’s dad threw in a bit of fatherly advice: “Remember son, he’s not your dog so be extra careful with him. Be responsible.”
The second he hung up the phone, Jimmy said to his mother,” Dad says it’s okay. Can I walk the dog maybe tomorrow?”
After giving it some thought, his mother said, “Tomorrow’s Monday. A school day. It’ll be too dark by the time you get home. Why don’t we wait until the weekend?”
“Aw-w-w, do I have to?”
“I think that would be the best bet for your safety and Lance’s too. Let’s hang in there until next Saturday.”
Jimmy wouldn’t give up. “But today’s Sunday. Saturday is so f-f-far away. Can’t I walk him sooner? Please, Mom?”
“Saturday will be here before you know it. You’ll see.”
Not totally convinced by his mother’s optimism, Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and said half-heartedly, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jimmy would have to wait almost a full week before he could walk Lance for the first time. A wait that would seem like forever.

Please email me at [email protected] if you'd like me to let you know when this book becomes available. Thank you!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


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11/19/2024 2 Comments

"Just" a dog? No way!

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Except for my childhood dog, all the pooches I’ve had in my life either found me or were found by me. Each of these dogs was special in their own way, but two had an especially profound impact on my life.

Rex, a German shepherd, was in my life from the end of my first-grade school year until I was a junior in college. I now see in hindsight that, when I was growing up, Rex kept me more grounded than any human did. He plays a special role in the series of books I have written about Arthur, a fictional character that is solidly grounded in fact. In the book, I describe a situation in which Rex rescues me—er, Arthur—from an attack by five other dogs. Though I can’t give away all my secrets as a writer, I admit here that this particular vignette is completely factual.

Many years later, I met Lance, a border collie. I rescued him from a bad situation, and he returned the favor in multiple ways. Lance was ten years old when I met him. I guess you could say Lance was an old dog that taught this old rescuer new tricks.
How did my time with Lance affect me?
  • He forced me to take those mammoth hikes that helped melt a few inches off my waistline. Unfortunately, the reduced weight turned out to be a temporary phenomenon.:)
  • Seeing a similarity between Lance’s life and mine(described in Chapter 40 of Lance: A Spirit Unbroken) led me to re-evaluate the meaning of life in general and my life in particular.
  • Lance gave me the impetus to try tying up a loose end in my life (described in the final chapter of Lance: A Spirit Unbroken). I’m still working on that.
  • My experience with Lance motivated me to donate money and my time to local rescue organizations.
  • He taught me and a good number of my readers to be on the lookout for other dogs in Lance-like situations. Lance’s message: Don’t just look, act! I hope the Arthur series has the same result when it comes to protecting children.
  • Finally, Lance motivated me to belatedly  take the plunge and start writing. That effort has produced  four published books with three more in the works. Every single word I have written since 2010 is the direct result of the time I spent with Lance. He continues to be my literary mentor. In the interest of journalistic honesty.
  • P.S, In the interest of journalistic honesty, I confess the German shepherd in the above photo is not Rex. Rather, it’s a photo of Thea, my book editor’s pet. Alas, I have no old photos of Rex, but he lives on in my memory.
 
What has a dog (or dogs) done for you? Please post your thoughts below.

2 Comments

10/19/2024 0 Comments

Dogs in the Eye of the Storm!

Dog rescued by FHP is renamed and being cared for... (youtube.com)
Followup to this story...Dog found along Tampa Highway renamed ‘Trooper’ now in foster care (local10.com)

Family reunited with dog found stuck in treetop after Helene flooding (youtube.com)


Family dog finds 11-year-old boy under several feet of rubble after mudslide during Helene...(youtube.com)

Bonus: Here's a video that never fails to uplift! I've posted it before but I always go back to view it when I'm looking for inspiration
.             Click here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IhqE8IIzUA


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0 Comments

8/1/2024 0 Comments

Rescuers and the Rescued!

GOOD STUFF!
Dogs rescued: bit.ly/3WLfhs0bit.ly/3WLfhs0
Dog saves owner and other dogs: bit.ly/3M8ZKfP
0 Comments

8/1/2024 0 Comments

Rescuers and the Rescued!

It's all good!
Dogs rescued:  bit.ly/3WLfhs0

Dog saves owner: bit.ly/3M8ZKfP
0 Comments

3/1/2024 2 Comments

A Show of Kindness? You decide!

I’m a bit late in honoring the anniversary of an incredible act by an incredible dog.

Backstory: As described in Lance: A Spirit Unbroken, Lance was a border collie that my wife Clara and I rescued. He had lived outside for over 10 years, at the mercy of bad people, inclement weather, and wild animals. He turned out to be semi-feral and untrustworthy around people, his rescuers included. He bit both Clara and me on the day he moved in with us. Subsequent sporadic attacks occurred, often without warning, until the day he died. Clara was the victim of the worst of Lance's attacks, and she has scars on her face, hand, and leg as reminders. I also personally witnessed Lance kill a woodchuck and a deer, both brutal events but ones I could not stop.

We employed a dog obedience trainer who was impressed with Lance’s rapid learning of basic commands. However, she was concerned about his threatening and lunging behavior. She referred us to a school for herding and obedience. The director rejected Lance’s “application” because she felt his wires had been irreparably crossed.

Lance wasn't an unintelligent dog—in fact, he was extremely bright and alert. He had simply lived outside too long and been assaulted too often, making him unsuitable for domesticity. At one point, we actively searched for someone or some organization more qualified to deal with him but even the Border Collie Rescue Association said that if they took Lance, most likely he would be euthanized.  That left it up to us to pull the switch ourselves and we couldn’t. We wound up living with Lance for the duration of his life. During that time one event in particular occurred that Clara and I still marvel at.

On February 7, 2006, in the early a.m., Clara and I were preparing to go to the airport and fly to Florida. We were planning to visit Clara's brother, Eddie, who had recently turned his life around after battling drug addiction for decades. We were minutes from leaving the house when Clara got a phone call from her sister-in-law Toni who was screaming, "Eddie's dead. He died from a heart attack. He's gone." Clara was instantly overcome with grief and, sobbing uncontrollably, threw herself into the recliner in our living room. I picked up the phone, not really knowing what to say in such a situation. At the same time, Lance rushed over to Clara, propped himself up with his front paws on her legs and began staring intently at her. Clara was now literally shuddering in tears. My immediate thought was that Lance was about to attack at the very worst possible time. Before I could even think how to prevent such a disaster, Lance leaned towards Clara and began washing away her tears. She burst out, "Look at what this dog is doing!" That’s all I could do, because the whole scene had frozen me in place and left me speechless. Both Clara and I both started crying harder, not only for the passing of Eddie but for this show of empathy by an animal, one who had himself been so brutally treated for over a decade.

They say dogs like the salt in our tears. But it's also safe to say that having lived outside all his life, Lance had never seen a human’s tears. Since salt is odorless, he would not have been attracted to its scent in Clara’s tears. I know what I saw and believe Lance sensed Clara was in deep pain and reacted as he saw fit.

How would you interpret Lance’s actions? Have you witnessed anything similar?

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2 Comments

1/31/2024 0 Comments

Can a dog provide instant relief with no side effects?

Here’s a little something I found in my archives. I didn’t write it so I can’t take credit ( or blame 😊) for its content:
Why is a dog such a great therapist?
                  1-You can babble on endlessly and he won’t interrupt you.
                 2-He never gives you needless advice.
                 3-He’s always providing positive feedback.
                 4-He doesn’t fake his interest in you.
                 5-He’s not in it for the money; he’ll settle for kibble.
                6- He makes sure every session ends on a positive note.
                7-He never violates your confidentiality.
                8-His nurturing skills are unparalleled.
                9-Scheduling appointments is a breeze.
               10-He never double-books appointments.
               11- A dog helps you break life down into its simplest and best parts.
               12-He is on 24-hour call for any emotional emergency.
           13-Minutes into watching your dog at rest or play  you forget what was worrying you; try that                with a human therapist.
 
Can you add to the above list? Can you share personal experiences that validate or invalidate any of the above claims?                          

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0 Comments

1/1/2024 0 Comments

Heidi's Home Sweet Home

From the moment Heidi entered the Bed and Biscuit, she proved to be a hard-to-handle resident. Morgan, who operated the kennel with her mother, said Heidi was very frightened and standoffish. She would allow people to enter her room, but she wouldn’t leave it. Initially, she refused to eat. Approximately three days into her stay, I stopped by to give Heidi a walk. When I entered her room, she didn’t seem to recognize me. Then, when she did, she became very enthusiastic. Good! My dad is going to take me home! I took her outside and we went on a decent trek. When I brought her back into the Bed and Biscuit, I talked briefly with the staff. They didn’t have nice things to say about Heidi’s demeanor. Having seen Heidi in action, I understood where they were coming from. From behind the counter, Heidi was gesturing as if she wanted me to take her back home. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that, and I left the building, serenaded by Heidi’s desperate barking.

Shortly thereafter, Morgan’s mother devised a technique that got Heidi to voluntarily come out of her room. She left pieces of bacon in a trail that eventually stretched from Heidi’s bed to the doorway. Not only did Heidi come out of her room, she made it all the way up to the front desk. Over time she warmed up to Morgan, her sisters and their mother but never really got friendly with the rest of the staff. Per Morgan: “She remained standoffish with them, but she no longer was lunging or threatening them either.” Around that time, a dog arrived on the premises. This new dog in town changed everything.

Salem, a fellow Chiweenie, was a rags-to-riches story. He, the rest of his litter, and his still-nursing mom were left in a box outside a rescue operation in Alabama. The people at the rescue were impressed with Morgan’s credentials and the adoption was consummated. When Heidi and Salem were introduced to each other, in Morgan’s words, “Heidi immediately went into nonstop tail wagging. The two of them started playing and just running around the dog kennel until they wore each other out.” It wasn’t long before Morgan reported to us that Heidi appeared to be turning a corner had behaviorally. In Salem, Heidi had found a friend and mentor.
The idea of rehoming Heidi again became a serious topic of conversation between my wife  and me. Clara was still primarily immobile due to her surgery, and, because of my employment, there were significant amounts of time I was not at home. When I wasn’t in the house, my wife was concerned about not being able to get to the door in a timely fashion to let Heidi out if the dog had to relieve herself. I was concerned Heidi, a high-energy dog,  was not getting sufficient exercise. We were no longer suitable dog owners for Heidi or any other active dog for that matter. The scars were still healing from our first, nearly catastrophic rehoming of Heidi. We were determined not to make that type of mistake again . What was going on with Heidi in Morgan’s world had a much different feel to it. Morgan’s entire family and her significant other were all dog lovers . I’d seen her boarding kennel firsthand, and I was impressed. Perhaps most importantly Heidi had met a dog that knew how to bring out the best in her.

Continuing reports from Morgan indicated that Heidi’s change for the better was for real. What followed was a period of sharing Heidi’s company with Morgan. Morgan was in the process of moving from one house to another and she didn’t want to rehome Heidi twice. So, as Morgan gradually moved into her new  home,  we shared “joint custody” of Heidi for several months. Heidi would stay with us  and then with Morgan. Gradually, Heidi stayed at Morgan’s home for  increasing  periods of time.

Finally, after Morgan moved into her new home in June of 2022, we scheduled a day to bring Heidi to what would become her permanent residence. Talk about bittersweet! I knew we were doing right by Heidi but it’s never easy to relinquish a dog for any reason. To this day, Clara and I share our mixed feelings about the experience.

Clara and I drove to Morgan’s new home in Bushkill, PA. Upon entering, Heidi immediately made a happy beeline for Salem. Morgan gave us a brief tour of the house and then we went outside and sat down on folding chairs to chitchat. As I looked out on the horizon I spotted Morgan’s other three dogs, but Heidi was nowhere in sight. For some reason, I decided to look under my chair and there sat Heidi looking out on the world. If I had to translate a dog’s body language it was as if she was saying I just want you all to know that this is my pal sitting above me. That was a very touching moment that only a dog lover could appreciate. However, speaking of body language, later, when we were at the door getting ready to leave, Heidi sat down next to Morgan. This time the body language told another story.. This is where I really would prefer to live. Only a dog lover could understand the jumbled emotions Clara and I shared in that moment.

We stopped by Morgan’s house again in September to pay Heidi a visit. She greeted us with gusto but, once again, when we were getting ready to leave, made it clear she had found  what she hoped was her permanent home. In December of 2022, we visited with a small gift for Heidi’s new owners. Heidi was clearly thriving in her new home.

Since taking ownership of Heidi, Morgan has been kind enough to send us multiple photos of Heidi alone and with her new pack. Though every once in a while I question whether my wife and I did the right thing, it really has become a no-brainer. My health deteriorated significantly in 2023. I have been forced to use a walker since April and I would not be able to walk Heidi much farther than to the end of my driveway. I feel sufficient exercise is critical for a dog’s happiness and well-being and I’d be a fool to think I could provide that for any active dog at this point. Heidi  was always ready to roll at a moment’s notice.

As of the date of this post, Morgan reports that Heidi gets along well with the six dogs she sees on a regular basis. Two of those dogs got into a dust-up recently and Heidi sat on the sidelines. As for dogs she isn’t familiar with? Only time will tell. She’s still standoffish with people, especially males. A combination of leashing, the stranger providing her treats, and patience has worked several times. Clara and I tried a similar strategy  with little success. Maybe we were the wrong trainers, or maybe we utilized the wrong strangers:).

There are times in life when a loss makes no sense. There are other times, as in Heidi’s case,  where a searching of the soul finds a silver lining. Though we thought back in 2020 we were adopting/ rescuing Heidi,  we turned out to essentially be foster parents. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, job well done. As proof, I present the following photos shown below:

It took a dog from Alabama to do what neither my wife, I nor an excellent canine obedience school could. And, he brought about Heidi’s metamorphosis in record time. My hat’s off to Salem.

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12/7/2023 3 Comments

Truly a Man's(and a Woman's)Best Friend

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One morning a few weeks ago, I woke up and felt like I was on death’s doorstep. Later that day, the hospital  laboratory results confirmed my suspicion. Upon being admitted and due to my serious condition, I had to endure extremely aggressive treatment. Unfortunately, that treatment consisted of endless blood drawings (sometimes with two nurses drawing blood simultaneously, one from each arm), test upon test, including one procedure that included having a needle injected in my lower spine, and a colonoscopy, the preparation for which is—in my humble opinion—medically approved self-abuse.

The rational part of me knew my life was on the line and that justified the sometimes excruciatingly painful treatment procedures. On the other hand,  the emotional part of me was getting worn down by the daily regimen I was being subjected to. I began having doubts that I could keep enduring the discomfort the medical team was inflicting on me. I no longer was certain I’d have the ability to see things through. The thought of leaving the hospital AMA (against medical advice) occasionally popped into my head. I felt I simply wasn’t as tough as I used to be.

About five days into my stay, I was lying in my gloomy hospital bedroom bed looking outside at the gloomy late November weather and keeping myself busy with my gloomy thoughts. That’s when I met Shane.

A lady knocked on my door and asked, “Do you want to have a visit from a therapy dog?” Do I? “Please, by all means. “ Talk about “just what the doctor ordered”. In trotted Shane, a standardbred poodle (photo of his breed shown below). He headed straight for me, stopping at the edge of my bed. I reached over and petted him while he slobbered on my hands. My wife Clara happened to be in the room, and he gave her similar attention.

We chatted with Shane’s owner/trainer. Make no  mistake. Therapy dogs are not just friendly pooches that one day had a vest wrapped around them and got to work. They must pass all kinds of rigid obedience tests. For example, they learn not to jump onto a patient or their bed, something countless dogs do by nature.

After spending about fifteen minutes with me, Shane tugged slightly on his leash. His trainer said, “That’s his way of letting me know he’s ready to move on to the next room. He knows he has a lot of patients to see.“
Shane is an ambassador of hope. He may not remember my name, but I bet he remembers my scent. That’s good enough for me.

Years ago, a veterinarian told me that humans ascribe all kinds of behavior and thinking onto animals without having objective proof. I tend to agree with her but all I know is, in the presence of Shane, I immediately forgot about my precarious and uncomfortable medical condition. I left my world and entered his. In his domain, all felt okay, no matter what was going on in mine. It didn’t matter to me if Shane was aware of the magic he was pulling out of a hat or not.

What is it about dogs?

P.S. Up to the day I met Shane, all my lab tests had failed to come up negative for the microbe that had infected me. I could not discharged from the hospital until I provided a sample that  did. And it had to remain infection-free for seventy-two hours following its being drawn. I had blood drawn on Thursday, the day after I met Shane. The specimen sat for the mandatory seventy-two hours. On Sunday, the infectious disease doctor gave me the good news I had finally passed the “audition”. No new bacteria had grown in my blood, and I was eligible for discharge.

Do I owe all, any or none of my recovery to a dog? I don’t know. All I know for sure is that Shane brightened my day with his visit, and it’s been all uphill ever since that moment.

P.P.S.  Here's a bonus video about another great dog: https://bit.ly/46P4hMe

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    Author Biography
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    Walter Stoffel is a substance abuse counselor and GED teacher in correctional facilities. When not behind bars, he likes to read, travel, work out and watch bad movies. Major accomplishment : He entered a 26.2-mile marathon following hip replacement surgery and finished—dead last. The author currently lives with his wife Clara, their dog Buddy (another rescue), and cat Winky (yet another rescue).

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