Childhood Pets

My sister, Cordelia, came across these photos, of Penny, a beagle mix, and Puff, a long-haired tabby cat.

We adopted Puff–after much begging to our mother–from a family friend when we were in junior high school.

These are the only photos left in the family album of the two. In the first photo, Penny's drinking water from our family swimming pool.

Penny was the best dog, adopted from the San Diego county shelter, with my Dad, when she was an older puppy. I named her Penny because she was the color of a penny. She smiled, lifting her lips, on cue–literally–and was smart as a whip. I took her to obedience school to learn how to walk on a leash and sit and stay. The trainer wanted me to buy a choker collar for her, but even then, I knew somehow that wasn't right, so I didn't do it.

I took her to the beach, when dogs could still go there, and on outings. She loved to ride in the car.

Puff was a cool cat, back when people let them outside, when it was safer. She'd sit in our driveway, waiting for us. She'd sometimes sleep on our beds at night. She was just around. She and our first dog, Nosy, agreed to disagree and ignored each other. And Penny ignored Puff too.

Thought I'd share the only photos we have.

You Can Go Home Again

"How far we all come. How far we all come away from ourselves. You can never go home again." 

--James Agee

By Cathy Scott

My friend Barb Davis, a photographer in her spare time, shot this beautiful photo of Mia (above) that I just had to share.

The photo was taken in New Orleans when Barb, Carol Guzy and I were there for Best Friends Animal Society's participation in the annual Barkus Parade (a part of Mardi Gras).

It was on that same trip that we took Mia to her previous home, to the American Can Co., a Mid City apartment complex converted from a factory and from where Mia had been rescued.

No one had come forward to claim her, even though her face and her story were on the Internet pretty much everywhere. She was listed on Petfinder as well.

When we pulled into a small parking lot at the front of American Can Apartments on Orleans Avenue, Mia sat up and looked out the window, her head darting in every direction. She looked up at the building, then looked back at me. I lifted her out of the car and she wiggled to be put on the ground. When I did, she practically dragged me on her leash up the steps to the main door. It was locked. She stood there looking up at it, wagging her tail, then looking back at me to open it.

It was quite a moment. Barb was right behind Mia as she pulled me toward the door. "It was so sweet," Barb said. "It was like she wanted to show you where she had lived."

We walked around the large complex of buildings to the back, from where Mia had been rescued on the swimming pool deck from four feet of water. It wasn't until the second rescue day at American Can that the rapid response team members Ethan Gurney and Jeff Popowich could get her and one other Chihuahua from a small corner of dry concrete they'd huddled on. The day before, Mia and two other Chihuahuas swam away from the rescuers.

Once we walked onto the patio deck, Mia wanted to be held. It was obvious she remembered what had gone down there, and her demeanor changed dramatically. She jumped up on my leg to be picked up, so I carried her the rest of the time. We returned to the front of the complex.

We didn't know at the time that Mia had just a little more than a year left to live. Reflecting back now, it was a fitting reunion for her, and a trip to the American Can I'm thankful we made. It was as if Mia had gone full circle, like visiting an old friend. She was home again, and she knew it.

As the five-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina approaches, rescuers are having their own reunion in New Orleans. And Best Friends, to remember, is posting two stories a week on its Web site, beginning June 1, until the August 30 anniversary.

Who says you can never go home again? On a February day in New Orleans, Louisiana, Mia went home again. And she was happy for it.

My book, Pawprints of Katrina (above), covers Mia's and other stories about the tremendous animal rescue efforts, the largest ever in U.S. history. Read it here.

Photos by Barb Davis. Book cover by Clay Myers.

News About My Canine Family

Here are some new photos of my dog family. And I want to share the latest medical news about Rosy (my heeler/basset mix diagnosed 2-1/2 years ago with melanoma) and Gypsy (rescued from a Midwest puppy mill last November).

Gypsy and Rosy just had medical exams. First Gypsy (above). Her patellas -- knee caps -- both luxate. But because her femurs are  bent (a genetic defect), she's not a candidate for surgery.

So, the vet recommended I keep Gypsy exercised and at a good weight for the rest of her life so she doesn't have extra stress on her knees. Gyps conks out sometimes on walks, so the vet also suggested I build her up slowly, push her a little bit more each time until her little legs are more muscular and can take it.

 Now for Rosy (above, running). She has two new moles, one on her bottom and the other on the back of a rear leg. The one on her leg is growing fast, but it's a bright pink and the vet thinks it's a cyst. She wants to remove it anyway, because of Rosy's history. The other is new and in an awkward place, so it's a delicate surgery. I'm still giving Rosy Vitalzym every day, and I just doubled her dose. The vet said she was incredibly healthy for a 10-year-old dog diagnosed more than two years ago with melanoma. She shows no signs of having cancer, so I'm optimistic.

Then there's Joey, my shih tzu (above, left). He just had his teeth cleaned, and no extractions were needed! He's a little trooper and did well. He didn't feel very well, however, that first afternoon and evening. He whimpered a little and sat on my lap. Finally, he fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning, he was a new little man!

Finally, life is good for my big boy, Hollywood, right now, who turned 10 in January. Nothing medical is going on with him! He's lost some weight from all the walks we take -- and watching his food -- and does really well on two-mile runs with me. I think he could go on forever!

Zoe Means Life

Reprinted from Best Friends Animal Society


By Cathy Scott

It’s a new day for a wire-haired fox terrier named Zoe.

Life was scary at first for this former puppy mill dog. After all, Zoe, who was originally named Cilantro, was born inside a Midwest puppy mill. For the next six-and-a-half years, she was used as a breeder. So, adjusting to life outside a cage was a lengthy process.

It wasn’t always smooth sailing for her adopters, Pamela Clifford and Lorrie Webb, either. In fact, they moved from a condominium to a house because of complaints from neighbors about Zoe and her bark. In a nutshell, adopting Zoe “uprooted our entire life.” But they’re not the kind of people to give up, especially on a dog.

Zoe and Kallie

It was late May 2009 when Zoe and more than 200 dogs - unwanted, used-up breeders - were rescued and transported to shelters on the East Coast where there’s a high demand for purebred dogs. Around 30, including Zoe, within that group went to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.

Once at the sanctuary, shy Zoe was diagnosed with mid-level dental disease and her ears were inflamed and dirty. Around that time, Lorrie and her friend Patricia were at the sanctuary attending a workshop. One day at the sanctuary, they spotted Zoe and a cocker spaniel in a run together. They stopped to visit.

“We just had to have her,” Pamela said. A short time later, they returned to the sanctuary to finalize the adoption, and then headed south to La Jolla, Calif., where Zoe went to live with Kallie, a rescued shelter dog, and a cat named Little Girl.

Never having lived in a home, Zoe couldn’t seem to get the hang of housetraining. And, she was frightfully skittish.

That first week, Pamela took time off from work to be with Zoe. “She slept every day,” Pamela said. “Any movement terrified her. She would freeze in her spot. Every time I turned around, she’d freeze.”

Then Zoe was diagnosed with pancreatitis, an inflammation or infection of the pancreas. “We thought we were going to lose her. We went to emergency. We put her on antibiotics and changed her food to high-end dehydrated,” she said.

Also, Pam said, “She was a special-needs dog. I had no idea that it would be the amount of work it was and the patience it would take.”

The first time Zoe was groomed was an experience for everybody involved. “Who would have ever thought a small dog could take down three grown women?” Pamela said. “Oh, those nails she had.”

Next, “Our little Zoe started to bark” - so much so, they unfortunately learned, that when Pamela and Lorrie were at work, she barked nonstop. A few months later, they decided to move into a house in nearby Pont Loma, a coastal community in San Diego.

Life's a beach

With hard work, patience and time, Zoe gained confidence - and manners. Ten months later, she now loves to take walks along the tide pools near La Jolla Cove, play with toys and wrestle with Kallie. “She’s not barking,” Pamela said. “We come home and everybody’s quiet and calm.”

She’s still a bit afraid of men but is learning to be bolder. When asked if Zoe had adjusted well to life in a home, Pamela said, “I don’t know if she’s well-adjusted or if we’re just in love with her.”

The love Zoe is getting is exactly what makes it all worthwhile for people like Kelli Ohrtman, a specialist for Best Friends’ Puppies Aren’t Products campaign who organizes and oversees the Pup My Ride program.

“The progress Zoe has made with her new family is what keeps us all going,” Kelli said. “Zoe - and the thousands of other dogs like her - is the reason this work is so important.”

“Until she was rescued through Pup My Ride,” Kelli continued, “her life was very small. She was confined to a small cage with no love, no playtime, no freedom to act like a dog. The transition from that small life to living in a home can be difficult. Even accepting love from humans can be difficult for dogs who haven’t ever been given that. But with time, patience and understanding, these dogs blossom.”

Seeing Zoe today “prance around with her friend, snuggle on the couch and run on the beach is the sort of happy ending that makes this work worth it,” she said.
For Pamela and Lorrie, they believe they’ve learned volumes from Zoe and gotten back more than they’ve given.

“If you’ve never seen resilience, she’s the epitome of it,” Pamela said. “Every day she [had] looked sad. It's remarkable she survived what she’s been through.”

Then, one day, a miracle happened. Zoe wagged her tail.

“The first time her tail wagged,” she said, “we were so ecstatic. We said to each other, ‘Look at that.’ It was like watching a baby take her first steps. Zoe is just amazing.”

Photos courtesy of Pamela Clifford and Lorrie Webb.


To view a video of Zoe and family, click here.