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We rescued Newman in November 2006.

Poor little sweetheart. I love her and wish her the best. Best to you, too, Lin.

Then, of course, there's this situation where Newman looks in the mirror and Betti looks out the window.

Some photos of Newman - his first night. He was a little shy.

Get an x-ray IMMEDIATELY! Sounds like internal bleeding.

Living Love

If you ever love an animal, there are three days in your life you will always remember...

The first is a day, blessed with happiness, when you bring home your young new friend. You may have spent weeks deciding on a breed. You may have asked numerous opinions of many vets, or done long research in finding a breeder. Or, perhaps in a fleeting moment, you may have just chosen that silly looking mutt in a shelter--simply because something in its eyes reached your heart. But when you bring that chosen pet home, and watch it explore, and claim its special place in your hall or front room--and when you feel it brush against you for the first time--it instills a feeling of pure love you will carry with you through the many years to come.

The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later. It will be a day like any other. Routine and unexceptional. But, for a surprising instant, you will look at your long-time friend and see age where you once saw youth. You will see slow deliberate steps where you once saw energy. And you will see sleep where you once saw activity. So you will begin to adjust your friend's diet--and you may add a pill or two to her food. And you may feel a growing fear deep within yourself, which bodes of a coming emptiness. And you will feel this uneasy feeling, on and off, until the third day finally arrives.

And on this day--if your friend and God have not decided for you, then you will be faced with making a decision of your own--on behalf of your lifelong friend, and with the guidance of your own deepest Spirit. But whichever way your friend eventually leaves you---you will feel as alone as a single star in the dark night. If you are wise, you will let the tears flow as freely and as often as they must. And if you are typical, you will find that not many in your circle of family or friends will be able to understand your grief, or comfort you. But if you are true to the love of the pet you cherished through the many joy-filled years, you may find that a soul--a bit smaller in size than your own---seems to walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come. And at moments when you least expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, you may feel something brush against your leg--very very lightly. And looking down at the place where your dear, perhaps dearest, friend used to lay---you will remember those three significant days. The memory will most likely be painful, and leave an ache in your heart---As time passes the ache will come and go as it has a life of its own. You will both reject it and embrace it, and it may confuse you. If you reject it, it will depress you. If you embrace it, it will deepen you. Either way, it will still be an ache.

But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when---along with the memory of your pet---and piercing through the heaviness in your heart---there will come a realization that belongs only to you. It will be as unique and strong as our relationship with each animal we have loved, and lost. This realization takes the form of a Living Love---like the heavenly scent of a rose that remains after the petals have wilted, this love will remain and grow--and be there for us to remember. It is a love we have earned. It is the legacy our pets leave us when they go. And it is a gift we may keep with us as long as we live. It is a love which is ours alone. And until we ourselves leave, perhaps to join our beloved pets--it is a love that we will always possess.

By Martin Scot Kosins
Author of "Maya's First Rose"

 

My boyfriend and I made it to Goldendale on Saturday just in time to check into the dog-friendly motel and give Toni a call. We met at her office and she brought three candidates for us to meet. She said she brought a little boy named Newman who was not on my list, but she still wanted me to meet him, because she felt he was perfect. The other two were named Emily (female, of course) and Cisco (large male). Cisco had nearly died in his past and had been 40 pounds overweight.

Here's how it went:

Newman was very timid. He's afraid of people, especially men, because he was beaten with a broom. He'd been at the rescue for at least 1.5 years now. Toni said this could be, in part, because he was more timid/shy and he was not macho with a big Rottie head. Anyway, Newman got along great with Betti and Pepe (my boyfriend's long-haired Chihuahua).

Then we tried out Cisco and Emily. Emily was raised with a female pit bull, so she was a candidate having been around another female. Cisco was a mellow boy. When Emily met Betti she was happy and knelt into a play bow, but Betti--due to her negative experiences with Greta--got scared and lunged, teeth bared, toward Emily. So that was out.

Cisco immediately mounted Betti and he weighed about 120 pounds (at least). Betti's eyes bulged out and her little face contorted into this "please get him off me" look.

In essence, Betti made the decision...and Pepe, too. Newman was chosen by Toni because she felt he would be perfect for us, but she didn't tell us about him--he was a surprise. She has over 50 Rotties and so much experience she really knew how to place him in the right home...and he's been waiting for a while.

He's a shy boy, but he settled right in to the motel the first night, went out for potty breaks, rode home in the car (5 hours), and explored the house. He is so excited to see me every time I come home he leaps around and wiggles and whines and does the lick monster routine.

I'll post photos soon.

Oh, and he and Betti do a dance. It's just like Flamenco. They stomp and their movements are deliberate and rigid. They turn their heads. Then stomp. Then spin. Then stomp. Then bow. Then move around each other like dancers.