About a year ago, J and I rescued a skinny, tick and flea infested collie. He was covered in over 100 ticks, VERY skinny, and filthy. A friend of mine who is also a dog lover, called and asked me if we knew of anyone who could take in a collie that had showed up at another friend's house until they could locate the owner. J said we could (we already had 3 dogs at this time: a lab/chow mix named Deejay, a Siberian Husky we rescued named Makana, and my precious sheltie Baleigh) and we'd be by that night to pick him up. Poor collie, he was pitiful looking but VERY friendly. My friend Sara had cut a lot of the burrs out of his coat and had gotten some ticks, but it was going to be a BIG job. We loaded him in the back of my blazer and took him home. We put him in the garage on a cushy dog bed for the night and gave him a big bowl of food and water. J sat out there and picked a dozen or so ticks off of him. Z got a treat and before I could stop it, he had the treat up to the collie's mouth. I was TERRIFIED!! Yes, it was a collie, but I had no idea if this dog was friendly or not. He took the treat ever so slowly and gently from Z's hand and J and I stared in amazement. The next morning, we put a flea collar on him and put some flea/tick drops on his back. It was too cold outside to give him a bath and he was WAY too big to put in our home bathtub. We let him run around in our backyard and meet our 3 poochies. They are pretty good with other dogs, as we fostered a lot and they know to play nicely. Later that day when the weather warmed up, we gave him a bath and was amazed at how SKINNY he was! So over the next month, we watched him fatten up a teensy bit and saw how beautiful he was with a clean, tick/flea free coat. He was so smart; he somehow knew his boundary was the garage and he never tried to come into the house. We'd leave the door from the kitchen to the garage open and he'd just stand there, watching us. After a couple of weeks we let him walk into the house. He was very sweet and gentle, never disturbing anything. We would let him out in the front yard with us and he never took off... he'd just lay in the grass and watch everyone or get up and play with us. We let him roam the street while we were outside and if one of us left, he'd chase our car down the street upon our return. He'd dance around, waiting for you to open your car door and then dance around you letting you know he was THRILLED you were home. Now, a collie has a long, beautiful coat. Watching him run down the street was like watching him in slow motion... so beautiful... watching his coat swish in the wind. Mostly, he'd be waiting on you in the yard. He would lay there looking all gorgeous and regal, and then jump up to do the happy dance when you pulled into the driveway. He looked like he belonged on the front cover of an LL Bean catalog or something.
This whole time, I'm waiting to hear that someone has claimed him. Sara had put up signs, called all the vets, shelters, and put an ad in the paper. NOTHING. So, after a month of nothing, my husband and I were trying to decide what to do. I mean, we had THREE dogs. And we're not talking smallish type dogs like yorkies. J was sitting in the kitchen floor and I had informed him that I had made an appt with CARE, the rescue group that we had done some fostering for, for two days later. I said, "If you want to keep him, I need to cancel with at least 24 hours notice. It's up to you." I had mixed feelings, of course, because I had become quite attached to this dog and his very sweet, gentle demeanor. Z was 4 and loooooved this dog. The neighborhood kids would surround him whenever they saw him and he'd just stand there, very still and patient and let the kids hang on him or pet him or whatever. I didn't want to be the one to make the decision to find him a new home. But I knew I'd be heartbroken if he left us. He apparently was housetrained and he would sleep next to our bed at night, on my side. We had decided to name him Fletcher. He needed a regal sounding name. Fluffy or Sparky just wouldn't work for a dog of this caliber.
So... J is sitting there with this contemplative look on his face. Fletcher was standing there and of course he KNEW
what we were saying. Fletcher looked from me to J, then... (I SWEAR THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED) layed down in front of J and put his head in J's lap. You could just see J melt. Fletcher knew his life with us was in question and he pulled out the big guns. So of course J sits and pets Fletcher for a moment before looking up at me with tears in his eyes (yes, my tough, macho man J had TEARS in his eyes!) and says, "We'll keep him." At that very moment, I swear to you, Fletcher sighed. He SIGHED! Like, "WHEW! That was CLOSE!" So, Fletcher became an official member of our family.
We went that evening to PetsMart and got him a new collar and tag with our info on it. I called CARE and cancelled my appt with their vet, and got in touch with a lady who has the Bob Barker grant to get Fletcher his shots and neutered. We wanted a thorough vet check and that's what we got. It turned out he had Ehrlichia, which is a tick disease that causes them to be anemic, skinny, and somewhat sickly. We had noticed he wasn't gaining a lot of weight and he'd been vomiting the last few days. He got his shots and they had to reschedule the neutering until after he finished his meds for the Ehrlichia. And thankfully, he tested negative for heartworm. I had taken both Baleigh (my sheltie) and Fletcher in for the same visit. Baleigh got spayed that day and was groggy walking out of the vet's office. Fletcher looked pretty happy, but wasn't thrilled about walking across the slick linoleum floor.
Over the next three weeks, I made sure Bae healed from her surgery and Fletchy got his meds taken on schedule. Bae was back to herself within a week and Fletchy was getting much better. When we took Fletchy back for his checkup, he had actually gained a few pounds! This was great news because he was pretty underweight for a collie. He was under 60lbs but was now a healthier 65lbs. The vet was pretty impressed with his dramatic improvement.
Since then, he's become ingrained in our daily lives. He is the most well-behaved, affectionate dog I've ever seen. In August, we had to put my sheltie Baleigh to sleep after 8 years. She had gone into kidney failure and I was devastated. She was my BABY. I didn't sleep or eat for a week. I cried nonstop and Fletchy was there with me the whole time. The day I said goodbye to her, J and I came home and I could barely walk. It was like Fletcher KNEW what happened, because he was constantly at my side and would just sit and lay his head in my lap, or stand next to me and let me lean on him for some support.
When I was opening up a box to decorate for Christmas, I found Baleigh's stocking and just fell apart. I sat in the floor sobbing and J looked over and saw what was in my hand and came to hug me. Fletcher came and layed next to me, resting his head on my knees. He knew when I was sad and would provide the quiet, patient support I needed. He still does.
So he has become MY dog. J has Deejay (almost 14 years old) and Makana (3 years old). I lost my precious Baleigh so Fletchy is MINE, dangit. Well, last night I come home to the foulest smelling odor. Apparently Fletcher's tummy wasn't happy and he couldn't hold it any longer. He let loose in our bedroom. And I don't mean poop. He knocked the blinds around a little trying to get out the back door, he hit a shelf we had in the corner which knocked a plant down and shattered the pot, and left a trail from our bedroom door to the back door. It was the nastiest, foulest smelling thing I have EVER encountered in my LIFE. (Z's nasty diapers included.) Fletchy about knocked me over to get outside. He apparently still needed to go do some more nasty business. So of course, Z's mom L came in to see the baby clothes I had gotten at Old Navy over the weekend and she had to smell it too. Z was exclaiming, "Ooh! YUCK!!! SHOO WEE!!!" over and over again, til I said, "OKAY, I GET IT. I KNOW!! I SMELL IT TOO!" L was brave enough to come in and quickly look at the clothes and then J walks in, saying, "OMG!!!!" I said, "Honey, I KNOW. I'm AWARE. I don't need you to tell me about it too!" So L and Z leave, J says, "Well, I was going to hang out a bit before class, but not now! Loveyoubye!" He kisses me and leaves. I stand there, pissy, thinking, "I'm pregnant. Where is the thoughtful, considerate husband who says, 'Honey, you don't need to be inhaling those fumes!' Why did I marry this jerk?!" So I go back in, breathing through my mouth, tears running down my face, and open all the windows and doors. I run outside to breathe through my nose for a few mins and then run back in to light about 30 candles. There were so many candles, I was able to turn off the heat. Then I sprinkled Oxyclean over the "poo" type mess. Then I walk outside and talk to a neighbor for about 20 minutes. By the time I came back in, the house barely stunk at all. I scooped up as much as I could then got gloves on, filled a bucket with steaming hot water and pinesol, and mopped up the rest. Then I got clean hot water and pinesol and mopped the rest of the concrete floors in the rest of the house. I had the shakes by this time, as I need to eat about every 2 hours for alien baby and it had been 7 hours!! I heat up a frozen pizza and am slowly eating it as I have NO energy and am feeling woozy from all the poo fumes. J walks in and says, "What's wrong?" like HE DOESNT KNOW. He begins making jokes about "Jiffer cleaning the shasta..." and whatnot. Needless to say, I'm NOT amused and would love nothing more than to rub some shasta on his face. I finally say in a very calm voice, "I don't mean to sound like an ass, but I'm not amused. I'm tired, hungry, and grossed out." What does my ASS of a hubby say in response? "No, you don't mean to, but you're doing a good job of it!" Then he sings about shasta some more. I just ignore him and watch some boring commercial while he sings and does a shasta dance in front of me. What an ass. So then he says, "Well, do you want to go somewhere and get you out of the house and something to eat?" I said, "No, I want to finish mopping the floors. " I had already mopped, but I wanted to do it again. Why? I don't know. Maybe I missed a fleck. I like to clean when I'm ticked off.
So I go back to the bedroom and mop for a third time. Mr. Concerned Hubby says, "Honey, you don't need to breathe in all these fumes. This pinesol is STOUT." So I open the back door again and keep mopping. Where the hell was Mr. Concerned Hubby when I was breathing in POO FUMES?! Ass. Then he says, "Please don't slip and fall." Ass.
By this time, Fletchy is laying outside the glass door in the living room and he is hanging his head because he knows what he did was bad. I can't yell at him, because whenever he gets into trouble, he already knows it and I never have to say anything. He feels guilty enough. So I walk outside to talk to a neighbor for a sec and he follows me, all excited. I won't even look at him. I just say, "You made a big mess in the house. I'm not happy with you right now." He knows what I said, because he stops dancing and hangs his head. I feel pretty bad about this, because I know he couldn't help it... but I have to be mad at SOMEONE. I went back into the house and he knew not to try to come in. He just layed on the front porch looking all guilty. Then my husband decides at 8:30 he is hungry AGAIN for dinner. He just ate at 5pm!!! So I let Fletchy in the backyard and take J to Wendy's. When we get home, I let Makana and Deejay into the house and reluctantly let Fletch in. Joe says, "NO, he's staying outside!" and Fletch turns and runs outside. He slept under the back deck. I worried about him getting too cold, as the temp was to drop to 29 degrees, but J assured me that he would be VERY warm with all that hair. This morning, I let him back in for about 15 minutes to warm up, eat, and then go back outside for the day.
I know I should've called T, our neighbor, last night. He cleaned up Fletch's other big mess a few weeks ago in the garage. For $10!! Talk about dedication. He's 14 and is saving up for a car. He puts his money in savings and his mom matches it. I think she's ready to kill us by now... we hire him for help on house projects since I can't help J much right now.
Anyway, I have rambled enough about poo. I'll talk about Bae and Makana and Deejay another time. And give more updates on Riley. She is in a great foster home right now and loves it. I still miss her, but am happy she's in a home she feels better in.
:: Taking a breath ::
Here is a pic of J and Z walking down the street to a pond in our neighborhood. Ignore the big red cartoonish redneck truck at the neighbor's house. We don't like them. They are new and loud, obnoxious, and well... rednecks. We hope they move eventually. Like, really really soon.
Here is a pic of J showing Z how to hold a bat. This was taken a couple of years ago. Sorry I can't show Z's face. Our lawyer told us back during the court battles that we should NEVER post Z's picture online. And since he's not technically MY child, I feel I would need the permission of Daddy and Mommy first.
And I just HAVE to show off the cutest little coat on the face of the planet. It's a 18-24 month coat, so baby (if a girl) will have to wear it next year instead of this year, but I could NOT pass it up.
