Newspapers needed!

Does anyone read the newspaper in print anymore? I could use some newspapers to line the puppy pen. Drop them off at my house or at the shelter please!!

http://www.petalumaanimalshelter.org/

If you have the old-fashioned shredded paper (not cross-cut), I could use that too.

Thanks in advance. Raising these puppies has become a huge community effort. I appreciate all the support and attention that they're getting.

Names

We really wanted to take the pups outside today. But this cold rainy weather forced us to use our garage instead. They had a blast! Finally, they had the space to run and jump and wrestle. Again, we had lots of visitors to help us corral them and cuddle them. It also gave us a chance to watch their behavior and think about names.

The three males in my house want to give everyone a name from the Simpsons. Since I tend to use nicknames anyway, I don't care what the 'official' names of these guys are. Chocolate Charlie may be Charlie to the rest of the family, but I call him Charles Nelson Riley, Charles Barkley and Cha Cha depending on my mood and his behavior.

So here are a few of the names:

Mom is Marge (Momster to me)
The biggest male is Chief Wiggums (Anvil)
The next biggest male and the sleepiest is Homer (Fatty)
Bart is rambunctious
Professor Frink (Einstein or Einy)
One really tenacious girl got the name: Krusty
Selma has a raspy bark

They're eating more and pooping more! Of course.

I also went out to Big Dog Rescue today to get more food. They are an amazing animals rescue organization who work with the Animal Shelter. Our pups came to the shelter through this group. They've donated lots and lots for their care. In the first 5 minutes of walking through the door, I met an incredible Goldendoodle, an Australian Shepherd, 4 Italian Greyhound pups and 2 Chinese Crested hairless dogs. I was ready to take them all home. But...

Check them out at:
http://www.homelesshounds.us/

Birthdays

What do you get a boy who's about to turn 12? A puppy! Or maybe 11 puppies?...

My son's birthday is next week. I can't figure out what to get him or when to shop. He reads, a lot, so I have a stack of books that I've been meaning to pass along to him. I'll wrap those. But he needs something cool and hip that he can brag about at school. Or does he?

I have to admit that I have no desire to adopt one of these puppies. And if a puppy became a birthday present for my son, it would become my responsibility - that's the nature of kids' busy lives - they don't have time to meet the needs of a dog. I know that every last one of these puppies will find a good home because they're cute and cuddly and wonderful. So why would I adopt one.

However, I could see adopting 2. They need each other. I can't imagine any of them being split up from their pack. They've done everything together since birth. How unnatural to break that union. But could we really be a 3-dog family?

Chocolate Charlie has been ours for 3 years. He came to us out of necessity. Kiko (my forever dog) had to be put down suddenly. Floyd, who'd been raised by Kiko, flipped out. He started howling when we left him alone. He escaped from the yard, headed to the park and caused mayhem at the playground. He was lonely and really needed a friend.

Dylan was going through a rough patch at school, so we thought we'd get him his own dog. We looked at all of the rescue sites online and went to an adoption day. He'd had his eye on a black lab who seemed great online, but had no interested in Dylan or any other human being when we met him in person. Dylan was devastated. He thought he'd made a commitment to adopt this dog who didn't actually care about him. Near tears, he kept looking at this 5 month old chocolate lab pup. So we took him for a walk. Chocolate Charlie couldn't take his eyes off of Dylan. They walked together, curled up together, love at first sight.

We took Charlie home. Dylan has been whispering his secrets to Charlie ever since. They sleep together, Dylan feeds him. It's a good thing. But in the end, it's up to me to walk the dog and train the dog. That's ok. A boy and his dog - nothing better.

So, what do I want in a new dog? A female; a breed that's not considered dangerous (I can't tolerate the perceptions people have of pit bulls and Dobermans...); a bit of a challenge; a playmate for Charlie; a dog that will become a therapy dog.

Could one of these puppies satisfy my needs? Could the mom?

(Chocolate Charlie came to us from: http://www.lakecountyanimalservices.org/
we help them walk dogs whenever they're in Petaluma and it fits our schedule...)

Einstein

All of the puppies look pretty much the same. They differ in size, but because there are so many of them, it's still hard to tell them apart.

Except for Einstein. He's definitely the runt and his little forehead protrudes . But he's not that far behind his next smallest sister on the scale. He's been steadily gaining weight - a good measure of progress. He plays, he's rough when he needs to be, he doesn't get picked on any more than anyone else. Yet, I wonder, I worry. I watch him for signs of anything abnormal. But what do I know from abnormal? I've never done this before.

Kathy (Animal Shelter wonder-woman) and I have discussed him at length. Is he eating? Yes. Is he getting pushed out of the feeding frenzy? No. Does he nurse? Yes, in fact, I let him nurse for both sessions while I switch out the others. Does he play? Like a wild man. So we stop worrying for a little while.

Then Kathy mentioned him to the vet, who said that there is a congenital condition that does present with a huge forehead. But he might not have it, Einstein might be just fine. If he's not, it's in his genes and there's nothing we can do about it, or it's not a result of anything we've done. Einstein might be just fine.

Yesterday, he was crying and whining so loudly, that I had to scoop him up and carry him around while I prepared his dinner. His siblings slept soundly, but he just couldn't be consoled. Finally, he fell asleep in the crook of my elbow as I mixed and poured with my left hand. It reminded me of the infant days with my boys - I got really good at doing things one-handed. Because, really, what do you do with a crying baby (puppy)? You pick him up, of course.

What is it about the runts? Wilbur was the runt that Fern rescued and we all grew to love. Is it something about 'against all odds we will survive'? Is it about rooting for the underdog? Is it about helping others who need so much?

My boys left a school situation in which most of the resources were allocated to those in desperate need. The right thing to do, of course. But over time, I grew to realize that my children were suffering because of it. As the resources dwindled (education cuts are in the news daily), there was just nothing left for the kids who were doing ok. But I contend that these kids are not ok. They're actually becoming another at-risk group because the resources are spread too thin. So we left.

We are fortunate to have choices. I home-schooled for a year, I researched the options and found a wonderful learning environment for my kids. But what if I had to choose between feeding Einstein and feeding one of the robust puppies. What if my choice determined how much he thrived.

We all want everyone to have equal access to the resources regardless of race or economic status or geography. But that's just not realistic. In this country of individuals, there are going to be differences. And we celebrate these differences. But is there a limit? If someone is 'too different' do we shut them out, do we determine their level of survival?

Of all the kitten litters we helped raise last summer, we only had 2 obvious runts. They both died. One wasn't eating or thriving in any way and had to be put down after 3 days in our care. I was absolutely devastated. How could this happen? What had I done? Well, actually, I'd done nothing. It was the law of nature at work. The other kitten was 10 oz. when he came with his 4 siblings. It was hard to help raise that many little guys. But little Divot (golf course rescue) ate well, gained weight, stood up to his siblings, loved to cuddle. He made it all the way through 4 weeks with us, through his neuter surgery, put up for adoption, then his eyelid started attaching to his eye. He had to be put down because of this congenital condition. It was absolutely the right thing to do. He was suffering and would have had a hard life. But... my heart broke. The last few nights he was with us, he slept on my bed. He was so considerate, giving me most of the pillow. That last night, he burrowed under the covers and curled up in the curve of my knee. It was a short life, but a good one.

And Einstein might be just fine.

Selfish

I move through my day, meeting the needs of my family and these 11 puppies and their mother as if there aren't human beings buried beneath the rubble in Haiti. It's what has to be done. We must move forward and we have immediate needs. The puppies can't understand, but my children are old enough to know about this tragedy and devastation. As we talked about the situation, they got very uncomfortable at their inability to do anything immediately to save lives. They fidgeted in their chairs and finally had to get up and move around in order to work it out. I explained that the airport is damaged and the port is damaged and the roads are damaged, so that there's not much of a way to get help into the country or move supplies around if they make it through. And that many people in the government are still missing, so coordinating the efforts to be effective is very difficult. They felt helpless. I let them struggle, like a puppy trying to get to his mother.

Then I told them that former President Bill Clinton is working to help and he said that the best thing for us to do right now is to donate money. $5 or $10 dollars will make a huge difference. We've made our donation.

But we're also going to a hockey tournament and a basketball tournament and getting together with friends and feeding puppies. Because every puppy needs to eat and every person needs to smile.

Growing little dogs

When the pups first arrived a week and a half ago, they were little. They fit into 2 large pet carriers. They could sleep in one 2' x 2' area, but preferred to pile on top of each other. They ate out of little cat dishes. They looked small. I could scoop one up with just one hand.

Now, they're miniature dogs. I need both hands when I pick them up in order to stabilize their round bellies. They sleep next to each other in a 4' x 4' space. They've graduated to dog bowls with high sides. They're growing!

I reconfigured the pen yesterday in order to give them more play space and to give me easier access for cleanup. I had so much fun, I decided to do it all over again today. I extended their pen so that they could have a designated eating area, and maybe pooping area. I know - they should not be expected to poop so close to their food. I'll work on that. But I think it's really important to get their pooping area far away from their bed area.

These are photos of the feeding process. First, we put down bowls of gruel. The puppies eat their fill. Then we lure mom onto the bed in the main enclosure and let her nurse half of the puppies. 10 to 15 minutes later, we make the switch. (It's so great to have all this help.) After the nursing session, the puppies play, bite ankles, curl up on laps, and finally crash.

Helpers

I'm getting a ton of help with the pups. Neighborhood families are pitching in holding puppies, cleaning up, making food, saving their newspapers. It's been a great way to spend time together.