Doggie dramas

A lot of drama has been unfolding in our lives around the subject of dogs. The new Canine Center held its grand opening last week, complete with ribbon cutting, and now we're concerned with the fundraising that will help keep it open. We are all mindful of the fact that if it had to close, we would have as many as 15 dogs with nowhere to go.

So far, in less than a month, the Center has found homes for a dozen dogs. Yesterday there were only two adoptables left and I went to take photos of them to post here and on the local forum, Viva San Carlos. They're sisters, one a bronze-and-black brindle, the other black with touches of white.

Considering that they spent their first months locked up in a garage, I was amazed at how they've developed since the first time I saw them, only a few weeks ago. Mali, the brindle, used to be hyperactive and pushy, while Luna, the black, was so timid she'd run under the trailer if someone tried to touch her. Now they've both been taught to sit and lie down, they are much calmer and Luna comes up to strangers, still shy but much more amiable. They're sleek and graceful, sweet-tempered and well-behaved. All they need is a place to call home.

Yesterday afternoon a woman named Sheryl emailed one of our members, asking about the Center. She had found a litter of four very small pups under a Dumpster in her neighborhood. So the Capt and I met her in town and took custody of the litter, which we kept overnight and delivered to the Center this morning. They were crawling with fleas, and one had an eye infection.

When we first brought them home, they clung together in a tight knot, watching us with terrified eyes, but by this morning they were exploring (and pooping) everywhere. As you might imagine, we didn't get much sleep last night. We thought they might need bottle-feeding and started out giving them some nutritional paste in a syringe, but they were mature enough for solid food, and when I offered gourmet chow that Chica had refused to eat, they fell upon it as though they'd been starved.

Now they're getting baths and flea treatments at the Center.

But wait! There's more!  This morning I drove to Sheryl's house to pick up two more homeless pups, ten weeks old, one male, one female, with black and brown markings similar to a Doberman. She was able to point out the parents nearby; she had found homes for the other four in the litter. I put the puppies into a carrier I had borrowed from the Center, and as I was driving away the parents followed me out the gate, barking furiously. The father, a big handsome fellow, planted himself in front of my car, determined to stop me, but gave up finally and watched as the last of his babies were carried away.