I’d just like to tell some quick stories about our wonderful dogs, one who is no longer with us. Goblin was a Jack Russell terrier that lived through being poisoned by our neighbor when he was 2 and then survived a full month of being lost in rural Loudoun County when he was 6. He lived to be 17 years old, his last 18 months were spent in a doggy wheelchair as he lost the use of his legs, (most likely because he spent so much time jumping and spinning as a youth.) He never gave up trying – he was always “in charge” of our family as he kept us on his strict waking, eating, walking, playing, sleeping, playing, eating … you get the picture, schedule.
When Goblin was around 14 years old we rescued a Greyhound, a 75 lb. dog, that became instantly subservient to the 14 pound Jack Russell. The Greyhound – “Road Runner” – treated Goblin with the utmost respect and deference for the rest of the little dog’s life, even when Goblin clearly deserved to be put in his place. (He could be downright obnoxious).
After little Goblin departed this life for something we all know has to be better than life in a bed or a wheelchair, Runner, as we call him, found life to be exceedlingly pleasant. No more ridiculous barking, no more being “snapped” back from the door or from a tidbit on the floor. He could enter or exit any room at his leisure without being reprimanded or scolded by a miniature tyrant.
Life was good. Peaceful, serene: lazy walks with the humans, an occasional skunk chase or cat sighting. Nothing to raise the blood pressure or cause anxiety.
Then came the “New Additions”. Of all things (what were the humans thinking?!?) a pair of Jack Russell puppies!! The names given to the two 8 week old girls tell it all: Daffy Duck and Wylie Coyote (in keeping with the Looney Tunes theme). Now the peace and tranquility that Runner had been enjoying for 9 short months had been shattered by two whirling dervishes disguised as dogs. They’re up, they’re down, they’re in, they’re out; they’re above, below and in between. The accepted rules seem to make little difference, nor do they ever seem to apply.
The only upside is that despite the chaotic atmosphere, Runner at last enjoys ultimate seniority and control in this doggy relationship. While the puppies continue to keep the humans hopping, he can enjoy relative peace in his bed of choice, with a few bombardment-like interruptions which he tolerates for a few minutes before absolutely shutting down with a terrifying lion-like roar, a show of terrifying fangs and a snap or two, for effect. Miraculously, no blood has been spilled, and except for the occasional squeak of terror, the puppies remain unscathed and at least temporarily contrite.
When we decided to take 2 puppies (the original plan was of course to take one), we said “how hard can it be?” Well, now that we have our answer, it’s too late to turn back, and after 3 very short months of mayhem, chewed floors, furniture and anything else they can get a hold of, we can’t imagine having done anything differently. I actually think Runner can’t imagine it either, although that’s probably wishful thinking. In any case, so far it’s a happy ending, and I say how empty would our lives be without dogs?
PS Rescue Greyhounds are absolutely wonderful dogs – they are extremely well trained and while they are shy at first, a Greyhound will bloom into a loyal and loving friend. Their lives as racing dogs are full of anxiety and abuse, and so when they discover there is life beyond the track, they are nothing but grateful, patient animals. I highly recommend looking into Greyhound Rescue – the people involved in the effort are skilled at matching families/people with exactly the right dog. Greyhounds do not need lots of space to run around – they are not overly active by nature – what they really want is a soft cushion and a sliver of sunshine to lie in and they are perfectly content. They are happy to share their space with other pets.
The fate of the unadopted Greyhound is certain death – they are typically only raced for 3 or 4 years and then discarded. It is tragic and horrible that these magnificent dogs are so exploited and underappreciated. If you are thinking about adding a dog to your family, please consider a Greyhound.

Judi from VA

This is the story of Military Working Dog Benny B163 , a skilled, 10 year USAF Veteran patrol/drug detection dog, who has happily traded seeking drugs for giving comfort in his second career as a Therapy Dog. In October 2007, Benny had reached the end of his useful military service because of degenerative joint disease. He was slated for euthanasia by January 2008. Fortunately, my husband and I located and adopted Benny just in time!

Once safely in our home, Benny made it clear that he was not content to languish by the fireplace taking it easy…he wanted a job! When we witnessed Benny’s affectionate, outgoing personality with people and animals (even cats!), and his puppy-like affinity for young children, it was clearly evident our Benny had the ideal temperament to be a Therapy Dog! Benny quickly completed Therapy Dog certification and also earned his AKC Canine Good Citizen certificate!Ultimately, Benny was selected as a Honorable Mention Recipient for the 2008 AKC American Canine of Excellence Awards (A.C.E.)

Though isolation from public interaction was a necessary part of his Air Force MWD career, it has not hampered Benny’s desire in retirement to enjoy people. With a goofy “doggy smile”, he delights in their pleasure at his sweetness, readily offering them his large paw for a friendly shake. Benny intuitively gravitates to those who are withdrawn. “Mr. Big Dog” sits patiently before them waiting for his presence to be noticed. Somehow, he knows exactly what each of “his people” needs…and willingly gives to them regardless of any situation’s newness or unfamiliarity.

Whether Benny is visiting a traumatic brain injury facility or a Veterans’ Hospital, he seems to strike a poignant chord with our honorable U.S. Veterans. They love the idea of a Therapy Dog visiting, but a unifying attitude of “oneness” occurs when they discover this particular Therapy Dog, Benny “is one of US”. While caressing Benny’s head, smiles wreath their faces as they fondly reminisce about dogs they have known or handled. Many have confided to Benny about K-9 partners they were forced to leave in Vietnam. I remember one aged Vet in particular who stroked Benny with a weather-beaten hand as he muttered, “I sure could have used you to protect me back in the Pacific in ’42!”

Somehow, Benny seems to know what each Veteran is feeling, as he relates to them with compassionate dignity. Particularly moving was Benny’s interaction with several amputees. He connected and related to the spirit of the whole person! As a military veteran, Benny shares their ethic of “getting the job done” no matter what the personal or physical sacrifice might be. Having also been regarded as an “excess” entity and “damaged goods”, Benny seems to express a more innate understanding of these heroic Veterans than most people.
The USAF Core Values are integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all. For ten long years, MWD Benny B163 bravely protected and defended our great nation. Now, in his second career as a certified Therapy Dog, Benny consistently manifests these same noble values in the comfort, love, unique understanding and devotion he joyfully gives to all!

Debbie from NM

Kodi is my 8 year old Siberian Husky. A more easy going soul you will never meet. A couple months ago he was diagnosed with cancer. Operating was cost prohibative and there was no promise that it would be affective. I have opted to have him live out his days at home being treated with steroids to shrink the tumor and allow him to be comfortable. The other dogs in the house are unaware of anything wrong but I expect they will alert me when the time comes. Dogs seem to have a sense for such things. I will not let him suffer. At present he feels well and he looks forward to his daily walks and playing with the other dogs or the cat. As long as it lasts I am content he is not suffering. When the time comes I will do what must be done.  He has been a fine pet and is a favorite of the neighbors. Friendly, outgoing and gentle he is welcome wherever he goes. I (we) will miss him but for now I can only care and love as much as I can for I know the opportunities are now limited.

William from SC

Ok, I know, we already have two puppies, (Beau weighs 78 pounds and Xena weighs 60) what are we doing getting another one? Well let me tell you the story and you decide what you would have done.

It all started one Saturday evening. Holly and I were headed to the movies when all of a sudden a horse comes bolting across highway 27, which you may know is a very busy road. Cars are swerving and slamming on their brakes and being the avid Animal Planet watcher I am, I instantly became one of those Animal Rescuers I\’ve always admired. I pulled into the medium, jumped out of my truck, and began to pursue the horse on foot followed by a couple of other motorists who apparently were also rescuers. After running about a block and having a coronary, I managed to corner the steed and held him until the owner and a deputy sheriff arrived at which point the horse broke loose and continued his run down the road. Anyway, that made it official, I am a Animal Rescuer!

Cut to a week later, Holly and I are returning home from Pizza Hut on Old Highway 50, which you may also know is a very busy road. We notice a red truck pulled over to the side and a lady with her young daughter trying to coax a small puppy to come to them. About that time the puppy runs into the road and cars are slowing or stopping to avoid hitting her (not as dramatic as the horse but still a little scary). (more…)

Our son Michael was 3 when we adopted “Murphy’s Law”. We call him “Old” Murphy because we’ve since named the new Dog, Murphy as well. Old Murph used to be named “Princeton” but that lasted all but two hours because a few of our closest relatives kept mispronouncing it as ”Clinton” and I so very much wanted to like this dog. So we quickly discarded the now infamous, surname.

Old Murph was a nipper terrier, for the uninitiated, he was the mutt in the picture sitting next to the original RCA phonograph. We knew Old Murph was the one immediately when we first saw him. We went to a dog breeder in Princeton NJ and a visited several of his breads but noticed 15 nipper pups in a viwing area bouncing around, hyper as hell. I yelled out the word “sit” and the only one that sat attentively in the middle of a sea of uncontrollable terriers was Old Murph. He was “Joe Cool” without the shades We all together said “that’s the one”!

Murphy quickly became my son’s best friend and he was more remarkable then we could ever imagine. We never walked him on a leash, so he became accustomed to following us around, everywhere. He would even chase our car down the street for few blocks until we were out of sight. The kids rode their bike around the block and we felt safe because Old Murph would keep up with them. He never let anyone approach them in a threatening way or even raised their voice to them. He became their protector. We’ve never seen such an independent dog and were sure that he would not get lost or try to run away. (more…)