Rescue Dog Does Not Always Mean Abused Dog

Rescue Dog Does Not Always Mean Abused Dog

Gidget

It’s interesting. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had people ask me where I’ve gotten Gidget. When I tell them I got her from a rescue organization they more often than not will say, “Aw, who would abuse such a sweet dog?”

I heard the same thing when I had my dachshund Joie, also. She wasn’t abused. Her family, though they loved her very much, just couldn’t care for her with her special needs.

This was new for me, as Joie was my first dog I got from a rescue. My first two dogs were from breeders, as well as, Kylie, my Lab.

As far as a I know, Gidget wasn’t abused. Dogs in a rescue situation are there for many different reasons — and yes, some because they have been abused.

Even if Gidget would have been abused I wouldn’t want this to be the focus. I’d do my best to assure her that she is safe now and will enjoy a good life from now on.

Maybe it’s because I believe dogs sense our emotions. If a dog found their way to rescue because of abuse (and thank goodness for those that do!) I wouldn’t want that to be what I dwell on.

I’d want to make it right. To help them feel loved. To know they will always have a loving lap to lie on, and a soft pillow and warm blanket to make them comfortable….and that they will be showered with love until their last breath.

To help them let go of what was and live within the happy new place of where they are.

I also believe, for the most part, animals don’t always hold onto those bad memories. And with a little help from a loving human being, we can help them even more.

Isn’t that a great lesson our animals teach us? If we hold onto bad memories and bad things that may have happened to us, we will live in sadness and blame, for the rest of our lives…. thus missing out on really living.

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Four Year Old Twins Share in Their Own Words What Frankie Means to Them

girls

I still recall the day.

When I knew I had to share my dachshund, Frankie’s story.

Even though I hadn’t a clue how to put a children’s book out into the world.

And I was scared.  Very scared.

But the drive to make a difference pushed away the fear.

I offered my prayers up to God telling him I was up for the challenge and the work and asked for His guidance. He didn’t fail me. I didn’t fail him.

It has been seven years since I published Frankie the Walk ‘N Roll Dog.

And to this day, I still receive emails from people sharing with me how the book has touched them.

This means more to me than I can ever express adequately in words.

Today, I share with you one such reader, Danielle, who reached out to me recently to let me know how Frankie’s story has not only positively impacted her life, but the lives of her 4-year old twin girls. (Just a side note that she also refers to Cassie Jo, who was my chocolate Lab):

I’ve been reading your blog for years, and I’m finally getting around to contacting you.   Why?  I originally started reading your blog when Frankie was alive.  My own Dachshund, Dixie, had gone down when she was 4, so your posts about Frankie were uncannily relevant to my experience and of course, inspirational. 

Fast forward to today.  Dixie is 15 years old.  She is still going, but not as strongly as before.  She continues to teeter around or use her cart.  I have expressed her bladder and bowels for 11 years now.  It’s our version of “normal.” 

For my 4-year-old twins, normal is a dog who cannot pee or poop on her own, cannot jump, and whose non-wagging tail cannot express her joy, although she is still patient beyond belief, soulful, and our best friend.

Now that my twins are finally old enough for “Frankie, the Walk ‘N Roll Dog” I read it to them (slightly abridged).   They delighted in the story of a dog that was “just like Dixie.”  They were tickled that a story finally reflected their reality with their pet—they probably also felt that their reality was validated. 

Through the story, they also came to understand Dixie’s experience of becoming disabled, how she endured surgery and recovery, beginning to use her cart, etc.  The story helped them to connect more with Dixie and better understand my connection to this amazing being that has been a part of my life since she fit in my hand and her eyes were still closed as a puppy. 

Also, through the telling of Cassie Jo’s death and later learning that Frankie has since passed on, they began bombarding me with a series of questions about the death of Cassie Jo, and pondering Dixie’s mortality.  I feel they are better prepared now for Dixie’s inevitable decline and for what is certain to come within a few months.

Thank you, Barbara, for sharing your and Frankie’s story.  When I read about it years ago, I never imagined how it would impact my future children.

-Danielle

And then the love icing on the cake, recorded in their own voices, messages from each of Danielle’s girls about Frankie:

Thank you, Danielle, and your beautiful girls for touching my heart.

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The “Funny” Side of Having a Dachshund with IVDD

The "Funny" Side to Having a Dachshund with IVDD

Gidget Selfie

You can’t take life too seriously. Goodness knows I’ve learned that from all three of my dachshunds with IVDD (disc disease) that I’ve had over the years.

While at times it can be frustrating with potty accidents (due to the disc disease they oftentimes needs their bladders and bowels expressed) and limited vacations without them, there is a funny side, too.

Such as today.

I headed out the kitchen door, through the garage, with Gidget tucked under my right arm like a football.

She loves to ride with me every Tuesday afternoon when I go to pick up our CSA farm share.

It’s about a 10-minute drive. I turn off the radio and enjoy the silence and take the back roads to enjoy the country side scenery.

Just me and my girl spending quality time together.

Back home again, relaxed from the quiet ride, I tucked Gidget back under my right arm, and my CSA box in my left hand.

I opened the back door to the kitchen to discover someone had left a trail behind…

of little poop’s that managed to escape out of someone’s (who shall remain nameless) cute little behind.

Though I have a feeling you may just know who said cute little butt belongs to.

Yup. This is how we roll when you care for a dachshund with IVDD. Those little poop’s can fly out without any warming what-so-ever and sometimes go undetected until a later time.

Poor Kylie. She was left to endure the smell. But she seemed to have survived the trail of tootsie rolls she delicately walked around and was no worse for the wear.

The little poop’s now a distant memory after I scooped them up with tissue and flushed them away…

Until next time…when the poop bandit strikes again!

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