And then I start to cry… It’s been a rough week, and it’s been a fun week, and the fact that it’s been fun makes me feel guilty and then I start to cry. I feel so bad that I wasn’t here when you first started ailing, and that I didn’t do more when I found you that first night. But I was so worried about getting to the meeting on time (and I was late anyway), that I left you there under the porch and then I feel even worse, and the crying continues.

Today I read an excellent article on the state of the pet rescue industry—Who Killed These Dogs? on Dog Star Daily. This article hit many of the points that I have felt about the rescue environment these days. In 2000 when I adopted my family’s first dog, we walked into the local shelter, found a batch of puppies, played with two of them, and then took one home. Shasta was the most amazing dog.

[caption id=“attachment_673” align=“aligncenter” width=“300”] Don’t put that on me, dude[/caption] I’ve started doing the Firepole Marketing Great Online Marketing Scavenger Hunt. And it’s been a lot of fun. The first week I was very focused on it, but the second week I realized that I needed to do some other, actual, work. The great thing about this is that I’m getting practice at doing things to help my site(s) get better and better.

In order to open our gate, I have to crouch down to dog level, reach my arm through the slats in the gate to pull up the latch and then push the gate open. Normally, this is a pleasant opportunity for my dogs to greet me. McKinley will push his head through the slat and Storm would jump around trying to find the best way to get to me. [caption id=“attachment_593” align=“aligncenter” width=“300”] Stormageddon and McKinley guard the gate[/caption] But today McKinley didn’t come to the gate right away, and this gave Storm the chance to get right up to the slats where my face and arm are reaching in.

Stormageddon is a great dog. She’s smart, and very friendly and happy, and she loves to eat. I should clarify, when I say she likes to eat, I should say that she likes to eat anything that even slightly resembles food. Other dogs in my life have liked to eat, and liked food, but not to Storm’s extent. She eats just about anything. Grass and grass clippings are a favorite. Shasta used to roll in grass, turning himself green, but as far as I could tell, beyond the occasional snack, he didn’t eat grass.

[caption id=“attachment_574” align=“alignnone” width=“300” caption=“Storm and McKinley playing with the tug”][/caption] McKinley is enjoying having someone to play with.

So, this morning we got back from our shopping trip and walk and I brought in the grocery bag (in my reusable wolf bag) and the cat carrier we are using to transport our new puppy in. [caption id=“attachment_456” align=“aligncenter” width=“300” caption=“Stormageddon the day after we got her”][/caption] I thought about being lazy and just put the kennel down and thought, “No, I’ll put it away right now, so it’s not cluttering up the kitchen.

Every dog I’ve ever owned came from the pound or a rescue organization (okay, Homer might not have, but my parents got him before I was born, soI don’t think he counts). But wow, trying to get another dog now that I’m not likely to burst into tears at the though of Shasta has become, ahem, challenging. Some of the challenges: every rescue I’ve found lists their available animals on Petfinder.

Went to the vet with a limp, came home with terminal bone cancer. 9 years isn’t enough!!!