Rescue dogs: are they all glue dogs?
In my 20 years of Boxer rescue, I have found that the number one reason for giving up a dog is, "I didn't realize how much time a dog would need." Thus, we get a lot of dogs starved for attention. Right now I have Sarah, who as I wrote about yesterday, was tied up outside a mobile home and when she was taken into the house, she was kenneled as she has a tiny urine leakage problem. Sarah is the biggest glue dog in the world. She has to be with me all the time, next to me in my chair by the fire, next to my head when we are sleeping, at my feet when I sit on the toilet.
The rescue dogs who have come from homes where the reason they are given up has nothing to do with the attention they have received are much more independent.
As I write this, my alpha dog, Roscoe, who came from a divorce and his first dog Mom still comes to see him with the children, is outside playing with the neighbor children who are in my yard with their Australian Cattle Dog puppy. But Sarah, and my blind dog, Rocketdog, are next to me in my study.
Rocket is also a glue dog because for the last 4 years (before he came to me) was kenneled and did not live in a house. He was treated well, had a companion dog, access to the outside as well as a warm kennel, but very little personal attention. He likes to sleep in my arms. Sarah, being so much smaller that Rocket, will sometimes lay on top of him when we are in my chair by the fire. Rocket, at 100 pounds, hardly notices Sarah on top at her mere 55 pounds.
I remember one old Boxer that I rescued over 8 years ago. I got a call from a couple that was being evicted and they needed to surrender their Boxer immediately. I literally made a u-turn in the middle of the road and went to pick him up. I have never seen an uglier Boxer. His name was Ozzie. He was so fat I was surprised that he could jump into the back of my Volvo. His story was that his dog Mom and Dad worked for White Castle, a fast food restaurant not known for the quality of meat in the burgers. I do believe that is all they fed Ozzie--left over White Castle burgers. They also gave me his food bowl, which had not been washed for so long, there was a crust over an inch thick of that orange colored cheap dog food. Imagine the bacteria in that old food bowl.
Ozzie had a bulging eye, and I took him to an opthalmologist at the University of MN veterinary school. He determined there was nothing wrong with his eye. Next stop was my own veterinarian who scheduled Ozzie for a teeth cleaning as soon as possible. As Boxer people know, the gum tissue of Boxers becomes overgrown, and during a teeth cleaning, that tissue is cut back. Excess tissue is pre-cancerous. Ozzie's gums were so overgrown that the tissue had turned cancerous, and the tumor had grown behind the eye, making it bulge. A biopsy proved it was malignant, and surgery was not an option. I did get palliative radiation therapy to reduce the size of the tumor and give Ozzie a few more good months before he had to cross the Bridge.
I think the worst health problem to live with is seizures caused by brain tumors. I have had three Boxers who have died of brain tumors. One was almost 13 years old, and she was my first Boxer. I got her when she was 2 years old, and she had a very good life. The second one was Bronson, a 6 year old Boxer who had been adopted and rejected too many times. When he came to us (my husband was still alive), I promised Bronson I would keep him forever. Bronson passed his therapy dog test on the very first try. He was my own therapy dog, as when my husband died suddenly in 1997, I kept Bronson with me as much as possible. He even went to church choir practice with me. When a soprano objected one evening, I left with Bronson and never went back.
Bronson started having seizures. He was as frightened as I was. Although I am a registered nurse, I work in surgery, and have no practical knowledge of such things as seizures.
One always asks the dog to please let me know when it is time. We tune into our dogs when they are sick, not wanting them to suffer, but wanting to keep them with us as long as possible.
One day, I had the day off from work. I was about to sit on the couch and Bronson wanted to be next to me. He had difficulty getting up, so I lifted him. I caused him so much pain, he bit my face, and I had to have stitches.
That was his way to tell his adoring dog Mom that it was time. By biting me, he was saying, "You know what, Mom? I am in such pain that I can't stand it anymore."
The next day, I had my veterinarian come to my home and euthanize Bronson on the day bed in the sun room. All my other Boxers came to sniff his body, and understood that he had died.
I have always done that--taken my dogs to the veterinarian if one has to be euthanized. I do believe it helps them understand what happened to their pack mate.
Well, I have written enough for today. I am having difficulty figuring out how to post photos of the Boxers with whom I share my life right now. I don't understand a thing it says on the page about how to post a photo. Is there anyone to whom I could send a photo via private email and it could get posted to my profile? Sorry, I am a blonde, and duh, I just don't get it. Best regards, Diana Lynn of Sunrise River Boxers in Stacy, MN, a rescuer, not a breeder.