Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Book Review: The Lost Dogs

I have referred to The Lost Dogs in this blog before, but I haven't done it nearly enough justice. Written by Sports Illustrated writer Jim Gorant, The Lost Dogs documents the recovery and rehabilitation of the dogs from the Michael Vick dogfighting case.

This is not a canned "Marley and Me" tale.

This is not a mindless, beach read.

This is not an easy read by any means. In fact, I had to put it down one night because I was literally nauseous.

Above all else, this is a MUST read. It's one that will likely make you question our celebrity-worshipping culture, our justice system, and the stereotypes against pit bulls. More over, it will make you believe in the resilient spirit of animals and the people who work to save their lives on a daily basis.

Within this book you'll find layers and layers of stories—from the details of Vick's dogfighting operation to the heart-wrencing tales of the dogs and their progress. For an overview of some of these stories, watch this PBS segment called, "The Dogs Are Alright."


Watch the full episode. See more Need To Know.

The story that struck me the most was that of Cris Cohen, featured in the above video, who fostered a number of the Vick dogs.

Cohen devoted himself wholeheartedly to rehabilitating one dog aptly named Jonny Justice. Jonny made a lot of progress in Cohen’s care and was moved on to another foster family so that Cohen could work with a more troubled dog from the Vick case. But Cohen struggled when Jonny left.

            “Every time he [Cohen] took on a foster he gave a piece of himself away. It was impossible to do what he did without forming a close bond with the dog. The animal itself was less accepting of training if it didn’t feel a certain closeness and eagerness to please the trainer. In the past, that bond had always faded over time for Cohen. He figured the same thing would happen with Jonny, but it wasn’t. Just the opposite. He felt like he missed Jonny more and more as time went by…
He knew that taking in a second dog full-time meant the end of fostering… He would say, 'Every one I keep is one more that ends up dying in the shelter.' In other words, giving up one gave him the opportunity to save another. Giving up those opportunities to help was itself hard for him to accept.”

Luckily, Cohen found a way to adopt Jonny and still foster another dog simultaneously. In my opinion, it's people like him who deserve the NFL's MVP award this year.

On the day that I finished this book, I did two things. First, I went to the local rescue group and signed up to foster. I knew that, like Cohen said, it would mean giving away a piece of myself. And I liked that idea.

Second, I emailed the author to thank him for sharing this story and to ask for some additional information. I know that the teens who read magazines I write for need to hear this story. They literally NEED to hear it. Some of them may be thinking about dogfighting or, worse yet, may have been involved in dogfighting. Equally as important, some of them are our next generation of Cris Cohens. They need to know that this work matters. It really matters.

 If you haven’t read this book yet, please go buy yourself a copy, download the Kindle edition, listen to the audio book, or find it in your local library. Hell, I'll even lend you my own copy. But I want it back, because it's one of those staples that will remain on my bookshelf for a long, long time.


Monday, January 3, 2011

The Stresses of Adoption Day

Adoption Day is exciting, disappointing, educational, and stressful all at the same time.

Every Saturday, we spend 5 hours at the local Petco with the rescue group. It’s a chance for potential adopters to meet the animals, plus it allows the organization the opportunity to spread information about the humane treatment of animals. It’s so important.

But it’s also stressful. Consider the stressors on the animals. Let’s use dear Jack as an example:

“Oh, car. You want me to get in the car? I barfed in there once, and I don’t want to have to do it again.  Oh well, let’s give it another try. ::hop:: Yeah, yeah. I’m okay back here, Foster Mom. Stop asking if I barfed. Just keep your eyes on the road.

Hey, I remember this place. It’s where the pets go! Huh? Doh! That sliding door gets me every time. So many smells in here. ::sniff, sniff:: Dogs, cats, ferrets, birds, rawhides… RAWHIDES!

Oooh, people are walking through that sliding door. Come pet me, pick me, love me! Oooh, now dogs are coming to sniff me ::ruff, ruff::, little girls are coming to strangle me, and little boys are pulling my ears. Help! Okay, I’m tired. I need some peace and quiet. Can we get back in the car yet, Foster Mom?”

It’s equally as stressful on us humans, too.

First thing in the morning, we pack up Jack’s things that the rescue has given us for him. This must be how contenders on reality TV feel when they have to pack their belongings on the chance they’ll get voted off the proverbial island. On the whim that he gets adopted out that day, I always want to make sure he’ll everything he needs.

[SIDEBAR: These same-day adoptions only happen in rare and special circumstances. Usually, over teh course of several days, references have to be checked and a home visit has to be made. But I pack his bag just in case because of what happened when Wookiee was unexpectedly adopted out that fateful day.]

It’s obviously not just the physical act of packing that’s stressful. It’s not knowing whether or not this animal, who has become engrained in your family and in your life, will be coming home with you in a few hours. 

Once we’re there, it’s always great to see the other dogs. Jack is VERY excited to see them too and tends to bark for their attention [constantly], so we try to keep a reasonable distance.

Then, of course, there are the people who walk through the sliding doors. I always look in anticipation, not knowing if Jack’s family may be walking right on through. Of course, Jack wants to greet each and every one of them personally.  (My back is still aching as a result.) After we’ve spent weeks trying to teach him not to jump, he jumps into the arms of these people, who praise it thinking it’s the cutest thing ever. Granted, it is cute. It’s just not cute when he does it 24/7.

As people approach, we field questions about Jack. Our answers, in order of frequency from greatest to least:
1) He’s a border-collie mix.
2) He’s about 3-4 years old. 
3) He’s neutered.
4) He’s basically housetrained, but he has marked new places on occasion.
5) Yes, he would have otherwise been put to sleep. Yes, a perfectly good dog like him.
6) Yes, he’s been here the past few weeks. No, he didn’t get adopted yet.
7) No, he won’t bite you.
8) Yes, he needs a lot of exercise. He loves playing. He would love agility training.
9) How much does he cost? There's no price tag you could really put on this pooch. The rescue has an adoption fee, which is a tax-deductible donation. It covers his transport, spaying, other medical needs, food, and so on.
10) An application? Huh? You might want to fill out an application for him? Right over here. Oh, you want the puppies instead? Oh, okay—right over there. Thank you for adopting.

For a month now, we’ve left adoption day through the sliding dogs with Jack in tow. We usually come home—all 3 of us—and pass out. The very secret and selfish part of me (you know, the part that shares all of my thoughts with you here) is happy because I know I have another week with this amazing creature. The other part is very disappointed that no one saw what a beautiful animal he is.

It’s a slow time for adoptions now, as people come off the holidays and the deep cold sets in. But we’ll pack our bags again next Saturday and get ready for whatever surprises those sliding doors might bring for all of us.