Sunday

Always More...

As most of you know, Elaine and I are the founders of Clancy’s Dream Border Collie Rescue Inc.  It was started when our Beloved Clancy suddenly passed away in front of us.  Since then Clancy’s Dream and the Board of Directors have saved and re-homes many Border Collies from expected doom and loss of life. 

Clancy, our founder, started it all
This week was an overabundance of people and dogs needing help and assistance came our way.  We get calls every week, and we always try to help in whatever way we can.  Sometimes, it’s just advice from experience, and sometimes it’s just comfort where their dog has passed, but mostly it is where a Border Collie needs help.  For whatever reason, we seem to be the go-to cause for the breed here in Indiana, and the surrounding stated, and that's the way we want it...

I will tell you that you have to examine your surroundings in life with these things.  Sometimes doubt creeps into your mind, and while you try to do everything you can, you have to wonder, “Are we doing any good?”  Driving to town several days ago and after receiving the notification from a rescue group that they were full, our rescue coordinator posted it on our social media.  It automatically popped up on my screen, and when I saw the photo, I choked up a little.  “Can we help?” I wondered.  I immediately thought about Clancy and his love and compassion for others and his need to help.  Phone calls and messages were made, and things were in the works. 


Once the decision was made, I was off to get a dog.  You always worry what you will run into, and this was no exception.  I did know the dogs was on a tether in the backyard.  Once I arrived, I was not greeted at the door, so I went to the backyard.  The dog was standing as far as her chain would allow her to go.  A downward tilt of her head with turned up eyes was observed I approached with caution.  This was a probably one of the best behavioral assessment I could make at that moment.  Will she growl, bark, lunge or bite?  I approach but I’m safe, protected by a steel cable and I then thought “am I really safe?”  Step by step, I got closer.  It had been raining, there is no grass but mud and standing water.  What if I slip on the mud, I'm trapped within her space?  I got closer and closer and these few seconds determine her fate…

Before
As her head lowered even more and her eyes followed me closely with her ears pinned back, two inched was left to get into range, and as I stuck my lowered hand into her limit, I was committed, one way or another, good or bad.  We both stood still, and I spied the tip of her tail wiggle from side to side and said. “good girl, good girl.”  It all changed, “this human is good,” and she knew, and so did I.

I went into her mud circle, and she had a friend.  She bounced and turned circles getting caught on the cable.  I was dirty as hell by then and figured it was time to meet the dog's owner.  She started winning as I left and I said “I’ll be back girl” and I sure she had heard that before and wondered.  Finishing the relinquish papers inside and more behavior test, which she passed, it was time to go home.  I put our rescue collar on her, and she stepped out of the mud onto the grass, and she really did dance for joy.  Even though she was on a lead, she was out of the mud and was happy.  She bounced into the car and never looked back.  She was groomed by a donation from a pet salon later that day and did great and looked even greater.

After
On three different occasions during this day I choked up and shed a few tears, I asked myself “How can this happen,” Why does this happen” and “what can be done?”  I do know there is a movement in Illinois where people are changing laws, picketing pet shops that sell puppy because most of them are puppy mill dogs.  Indiana recently had a statewide conference for shelter and rescue directors and leaders, including staff addressing problems that I attended.  All of the issues are addressed, it’s just getting people to really listen, I mean really listen!  Education is always a key to this problem, but people need to do something.


Why does it happen is the part I can’t wrap my brain around.  For me, it means trying to pick up the pieces and attempting to fix broken dogs which should never happen.  While it is heartbreaking to go to a thing like this, it’s rewarding when they are saved from neglect or abuse, no matter if they only live their short senior lives in peace.  Seeing them live a life running and playing and all their glory is magical.  By the grace of God, fortune or destiny, this dog came to Clancy’s Dream because people cared.  Helping is a huge part, not everyone can afford to support financially, but you can visit or volunteer at your local shelter and get involved. 


This dog is only one dog that was saved from a life of pain and neglect.  This coming Tuesday, we already have made arrangements to take-in and foster another dog that is living their life to a chain.  At night, before I drift off into my dreams, I often think of the ones that we can't save, and I will never forget the faces.  There is always more.  Let it make it clear, it’s not me doing this.  It’s our Board of Directors and the people who work so hard behind the scene, and there are more than you know, I’m just a small tire on this car.  If it weren't for the help YOU, our readers, we would not be able to help any dogs.  You, our friends and caring companion, saved one this Saturday and the 2 other dogs coming into Clancy’s Dream this week.    Ken

Dutchess, not again…


Picture this, you’re sitting upstares in your office and hear your wife cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.   Clang, crash, clink, and I ask myself “wonder what she is doing.”  She has got to be moving the refrigerator and doing some major cleaning, but we’ve only had a light dinner, and then the light came on in my brain because I have been here before… Dutchess!  


As fast as I could navigate through the dogs near me, who by the way thought I am playing and try to run interference, so it was a struggle.  There she was, face looking down but her eyes looking at me.  There she is backing up trying to pull “My” food with her, and she knew, really knew she was in trouble.

Not Always...
"Dutchess” I shouted, but she never batted an eye the whole time but kept chewing and looking but only faster as I got closer.  Just about the time I was in arms reach, she took her last bite and walked away.  “Suger,” I said (not really) how could you do that again.  With every ounce of brains, I can’t seem to control her food antics or control her food.


Dutchess is not skinny by no means, she looks heavy, but she has a lot of hair and her waist narrows where it should, but can she be that hungry?  Lord only knows, and she has been like this her whole life trying to get that extra piece of kibble.  We only feed the dogs in the kennel because they sleep in the house.  On many occasions, after being let out of her “pad,” she will go to each open door just to check if they left a snack for her.


After eating the things in the kitchen and doing a little research, I knew what I had to do.  I grabbed the bottle of peroxide and a 20 gage syringe minus the nettle.  Elaine and I walked toward the kennel, and usually, Dutchess follows us, but when she saw what we were carrying, she turned around and went the other way.  “Dutchess – come”  nothing, but we had to put her on a lead. She knew what was coming.  Once all of us were in the kennel, she went to the corner, but she was lead back to me, and the deed was done. 


 It happened with much fussing and holding, and she even bit the end of the syringe off.  Dutchess seems to be immune to this, and it doesn't always work which once led us to ride her around in a hot car which did the trick.
We were successful this time, she expelled all the things that needed to come up, but it wasn't without a fight.  What I will never understand is that she will never learn and how strong her drive to counter surf is.  The other thing that amazes me is that the next morning, she gallops up the stares and buries her head in my lap, licking my hands and face and giving “me” sugar like nothing happened at all.  She must be looking for a snack…   Ken


It’s Time to Tell the Story…

On April 6, 2008, our first litter of Border Collies that was ever born on the farm arrived.  Molly and Clancy bred on Valentine day in 2008, and I knew the pups would be filled with love just like their parents.  Abbie, which was from that litter had a very rough start and was returned to us just a few months from a family that didn’t know how to care of a Border Collie, and we got to keep her for a week and love on her until another home could be found.


8-15-2008, her first return to us, bath time.
We found her another home with kids to play with and many things to do where she would be in heaven, and she was.  Nearly a year later, we got a call about Abbie.  A family situation had come up, and they could no longer keep her.  Everyone’s hearts were broken because they loved her so much, it was unavoidable.  Several days later, Abbie was back at the farm and fit right in.  That first night, I was laying on the bed and talking to Elaine.  Abbie jumped on the bed and laid down close to me.  In just a few seconds, she scooted herself into my arm and put her head on my chest and licked my eyebrows.  Elaine watched and said, “She is your dog, you know that don’t you?”  “I do now, and she will never leave,” I said, and she was here until she left this world.



Abbie was always playing, running and spinning in circles.  She was full of energy and zest in everything she would do.  She loved ball, Frisbee and would find things for me to throw and set them by my feet as I walked, even moving.  She loved to play and would place the ball in front of the mower as I cut grass and would also stand beside the discharge and wait until I got off and threw it.



On a day in November in 2015, I found multiple knots around Abbie's neck, and I suspected the worse.   The following Tuesday, I made a journey along with a trip to Louisville with Abbie.  The road trip only lasted for part of the day, the mental trauma will last my lifetime.  Abbie had inoperable stage 4 cancer and was dying.   Everything was confirmed at the Oncologist’s office in Louisville from a complete exam along with many tests.  Since my “hunch” something is “just not right,” my life has been and is upside down at the very least.  I would never have expected a dog in her prime, full of health and energy fall to such a devastating disease but I soon found out I was wrong, so very very wrong.  


The following morning, I couldn’t sleep and got out of bed.  I called Abbie, and off we went walking through the woods at 4 am.  There was little or no moon, but the wind was slightly blowing through the tree, and it was dreamlike.  She led the way to her favorite spot at our lake, mostly because of it’s one of her play areas.  This time, she walked onto the dock and waited for me.  I sat down on a step, Abbie curled up into my lap and licked my face.  I cried like a child most of the time, and she stayed by my side wondering what was wrong, trying to fix me in her own way, little did she know, I was trying to fix her but I couldn’t.


The one thing I wanted for her is that she at least one more summer so she could play in the lake which she loved.  We decided on a plan of action which included chemotherapy and tried to get her immune system to respond and fight, and it did.  When she was checked after a long round of Chemo, she was in remission… we had some time.  All I wanted was it to warm up so she could play in the water.  As summer approached, she was ready, and for nearly 30 months, she was free of the disease.  I wondered if they made a mistake, somehow.  Little did I know, it came back with a vengeance… Abbie’s Vet always said it would, but I didn’t believe him.



In the first week of April, just 3 days before we were leaving to go out of the country for 3 weeks, I noticed Abbie didn’t eat her morning breakfast for last few mornings, Abbie never skipped a meal.  She gets two supplements for her immune system flown in from Australia which was important.  As a precaution, I took her to the Vet for bloodwork and a recheck the next morning.  She ate snacks at the office and acted typically, and her physical exam seemed normal, but the blood work would tell.
That evening, Abbie seemed unsteady at times and even stumbled down the stares.  It was a long night, packing for our trip kept us busy but I was worried.  The next morning she followed me but was still unsteady on her feet, and the Vet called.  “The cancer is back in full force, she is in renal failure, and her organs are shutting down, and her calcium level is through the roof.”  I knew it was terrible, but it will get worse.  Elaine was at work, and I called her and told her it was time to let Abbie go.  I called a friend for a ride and waited for her, giving Abbie everything she wanted, but mostly it was love and attention.  Abbie still wanted to be with me and would struggle to walk, and in just an hour, she was down, she couldn’t walk with her back legs. 


I knew there was a task to do and I had to do it, her grave needed to be dug.  She couldn’t walk so I carried her and placed her on top of Clancy’s grave.  Five feet away she watched me as I dug.  Every shovel full of dirt was both a physical and mental burden, but I kept going.  When it was finished, I carried her to a pallet on the driveway that I had placed for her.  I laid down beside her and with what strength she had, she scooted up to me and put her head on my chest, and licked my face as she always had, but this time she licked away my tears. 



When my friend pulled into the drive, as all the dogs usually do, they ran to greet her, and little Abbie tried too, but this time she was dragging her back legs, something I will NEVER get out of my mind.  I quickly scooped her up and carried her to the car.  Elaine met me at the Vet's office, and as we said our goodbyes.  I kissed her nose one last time holding my face to hers and took her last breath.  Abbie was gone, she had crossed over.  After enough time and everyone was cried out, It was time to take Abbie home to the farm.  As I rode in the passenger's seat, I held her like a baby and stroked her fir and held her tight.  When we got home, I ask my friend to please understand but “please leave.” Which she did.  I took her to her new home, placing her on the blanket along with her favorite Frisbee and even a ball.  I brushed her, cutting some hair to be placed with Clancy’s, kissed her one last time and lowered her.  As usual, the dogs were around and watched but being on their best behavior.  Abbie was placed behind Clancy, her Father and will be next to Molly, her Mother when that time comes.

Abbie's last photo, she is sitting on Clancy's grave, watching me
Abbie was the only dog that I was first and last to touch in their life, I was there at the beginning and until the end.  The rest of the day was a fog, and I really don’t remember what happened after I buried her.  As odd and silly as it may sound, I didn’t want to take a shower at the end of the day but did.  My face had her saliva on it where she licked me and when we were riding home, as pets usually do, her blatter released on my lap through her blanket and that was the last physical remains I had of her.
She is sorely missed, and things have changed dramatically with her being gone.  No-one brings me a ball or Frisbee and my bed is a little less crowded.  Everything has settled down a notch, and I don’t get my face washed as much.  I am so grateful that we had the time we did and as the Vet once said, “Everyday is a gift.” And it was…   


Daughter and Dad, together again
"Hey Dad, I'm home," Abbie said. "I knew you were sick and when you were coming, and I waited," said Clancy  "I sure miss the water, and my Frisbee" Abbie said.  "Come with me, you've never seen anything like this"  Clancy said, and as they walked toward the sun, Abbie whispered to her dad, "Will he be Ok, he was so sad, and I loved to lick his eyebrows?"  "He'll be fine, we'll see him soon."

As I said when I wrote Clancy's story, I do this not to make you sad or feel sorry for me, I write to help me heal and remember once again, Rest in Peace my little Abbie Dabby Doo...  Ken