Why does it appear that black dogs, particularly the large ones, and black cats are unadoptable? The phenomenon has been dubbed "black dog syndrome." Is it superstition? Black cats are considered unlucky by some. Is it mythology? Big black dogs have been portrayed as symbols of death in literature and legend, cast as bad guys in movies like The Omen, and even featured in modern stories like the dog Grim in the Harry Potter tales.
Some of the reasons may be more pragmatic. Black dogs have to be specially lighted for photography and therefore don't show up well on shelter websites, and in pamphlets and flyers. Visitors have trouble noticing them too in poorly lit kennels. "In a lot of shelter environments the lighting is not that great to begin with," says Pam Black Townsend, a shelter volunteer at the SPCA/Humane Society of Prince George's County in Maryland, whose photo book of black dogs raises money for the shelter www.pgspca.org. "They are hard to photograph and some people say, with black dogs, their eyes don't stand out as much and so they are harder to read. That makes people a little bit cautious."
There is also a theory that there are just more black dogs then those of other shades, being the black gene is most dominant.
Some experts dispute the severity of "black dog syndrome." Kimberley Intino, director of animal sheltering issues for the Humane Society of the United States, cites one study by Pethealth Inc., a pet insurance and animal microchip company, that went through numbers from 679 shelters and found black dogs indeed had longer stays before being adopted — but just by two days on average. "The idea that black dogs are not being adopted is not as gloomy as it is being portrayed," Intino says. But the anecdotal evidence seems hard to dispute.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Black Dog Syndrome
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Almost As Good...
to give you any time,
when no fault of yours, something goes wrong,
If you can sleep without the aid of drugs,
no prejudice against creed, color, religion or politics,
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
An Open Letter to the Human Race
From: The All Creation Society
To: The Human Race
Dear Monsieur & Madame Homo sapiens:
We regret that you were unable to attend our recent General Meeting. However, it is my sad duty to inform you that your continuing membership in our Society is currently under review as a result of allegations made against you at said meeting. (Some of which were rather shocking!)
To begin with, Canis lupus complained that your species has been the reason for extinction of several of his cousins, and that recently, you have even been shooting at him from your airplanes. Alligator mississippiensis alleged that some of your kind have been wrestling him for sport, and Crocodylus niloticus said he could top that and claimed you had made belts and purses out of his family members!
Ursus maritimus reported that you have recently been drilling for oil in his habitat and upsetting the order of things, and Nyctea scandiaca confirmed the charge and said she was so upset she could barely sit her eggs for the intrusion.
Odocoileus virginianus and Oryctolagus cuniculus explained how they had hoped for better days after your "Disney" made movies featuring them, but that many of your kind make a habit of storming their woodlands and shooting at them, often with lethal consequences.
Rattus norvegicus and Mus musculus said they were first enticed into your homes and barns with offers of food, and then had been beheaded by some cruel mechanical device - while several of their cousins opined that that was a relatively painless death compared
to what they had endured in your laboratories.
Orcinus orca claimed that he had been sold into slavery by you and forced to jump through hoops. Lynx rufus told how his kin had finally reclaimed some of their former habitat, at which point you opened a hunting season. Panthera tigris sumatrae said that in his part of the world he can barely find a plot of ground large enough to raise his family.
Gorilla gorilla beringei wept when he told how your wars threatened both his habitat and his offspring. Eubalaena glacialis said he had swum the world's oceans in an attempt to get away from you, and had been harpooned for his troubles.
Equus caballas, that most noble of creatures, explained how his kind is wagered on by you, then sold by you at auction and transported without food and water to slaughter (surely he exaggerates?) One of the worst stories we heard that evening was from Selenarctos Thibetanus, of how his kind is cruelly imprisoned by you in cramped cages for their bile. His cousin Ailuropoda melanoleuca said she could hardly believe it - that you had chosen her as the symbol of one of your largest wildlife organizations!
We realize that you are relatively new to our membership (speaking in evolutionary terms). In the past, we have enjoyed a most pleasant relationship with some members of your species. We are eternally grateful to your Noah for rendering transportation assistance during that unfortunate incident. One of your members, Dr. Albert Schweitzer, is legendary for his kindness. We hold your Miss Rachel Carson in the highest esteem for trying to warn you about environmental concerns that threaten us all, and of course we are all aware of the efforts of Dr. Jane Goodall on behalf of Pan troglodytes.
However, we simply can no longer tolerate some of your behaviors and ignorance. In fact, our chairman, Panthera leo, called on two of your closest allies, Canis lupus familiaris and Felis domesticus to speak on your behalf during the meeting. Well, it was nearly impossible to restore order. They told how they had been abandoned and killed by the millions, allowed to breed out of control, acquired as companions and then ignored, passed around like pieces of old furniture, and had been targeted for such abuses that Struthius camelus could not hear any more and buried her head in the sand.
Many species said they felt so defenseless in your presence that they may was well be a sitting Aix sponsa. Alces alces concurred and said not only had they every reason to worry, but his kind was frequently shot by your species and then suffered the added indignity of having their heads hung on your walls! Elephas maximus said she has so many unpleasant memories of her relationship with your kind that she does not think she will ever forget them.
Please do not think us intolerant, or that we do not have a sense of humor (if I might offer Platypus compertus as proof of the latter), but this unseemly behavior simply must stop for the good of our entire membership. We respectfully request that you review our rules for peaceful coexistence on this planet and rethink some of your practices and behaviors. We are not insensitive to the dilemmas you face, particularly with some of your kind being herbivorous and some carnivorous. However, if there is not an immediate improvement in the current situation, we will have no choice but to take this matter up with The Creator.
Thank you in advance for your prompt attention to these matters.
Warm regards,
Sagittarius serpentarius, General Secretary bird
(Jim Willis)
Monday, January 2, 2012
Tribute to Foster Parents
They don’t have room, but somehow they find the space. When a dog is stressed from kennel life, or in need a quiet place to heal or a family to teach them the ropes, or a rescue can’t take him unless a foster home is available – these families say, “We can take him home.”
They open their houses and hearts to fall in love with a dog that they know isn’t theirs for keeps. They go to work providing crate and leash training, socialization, medication and extra meals as needed. They separate resident pets from foster dogs if they have to, scoop extra poop, write blogs, take photos and spent their weekends at adoption events.
They take on all of the work that comes along with bringing home a new dog, and then some.
They do their best to balance holding tight and letting go. It is a tricky dance to care so deeply for a guest, since dogs stay forever in our hearts. But when people tell them, “I couldn’t foster because it would be too hard to give the dog up.” They say, “How can it be harder than knowing a dog died because no foster home stepped up?” And that is why they do it time and again.
And while they worry they might not be strong enough to let this one go, something special happens: The right adoption application arrives!
They lifted a single soul up, out of the crowd and floating on their hands, their foster dog arrived in the arms of the family that has been searching for him. It was all worthwhile.
They are the specialists, the deep sea divers, working the details of a dog’s life until he’s ready for prime time.
They bridge the gap to a new life.
They are foster families – true everyday heroes.
And sometimes, they are the bridge to somewhere deeper, a place to rest.
They understand that the troubled souls, the weak bodied, the ancient, are having a tough go of this world. And so they step up to the loneliest plate and say, “We can take her home until it’s time. We will be her final family.”
They give some very special dogs a loving home before they leave this earth.
They commit to walking alongside these dogs until the last moments. What some of us are not strong enough to do for our own pets, they choose to do for dogs they have only known for a month, a week, a day, an hour.
Fiercely they say, “I see you. I love you. You are not a number or a mistake or a victim anymore. You are mine and I will walk with you until the end.”
They are warriors of the heart.
They are compassion foster families. They are everyday heroes.
Above posted in Stubby Dog
Melissa sat on the floor, unable to sit straight and tall like her mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child. Today, it would be impossible. And tomorrow... it probably wouldn't be possible then either. Her mind was too busy thinking about the dog that lay across her lap.
When he came to be with her, he had no name. She remembered that day very well. The first sight of him was enough to break her heart into little pieces.
The woman, who had taken this dog from the rough streets where he had lived, had tried to save him because she was unable to watch this young dog find his own food in a dumpster outside the crack house where he lived. Nobody cared that he was gone.
His fur was very thick; so thick that she had to wiggle her fingers down to feel his bony body. And as she pulled her fingers away again, they were coated in old dirt. Black and white, he was supposed to be. But on that day he was beige and dust.
He sat in the back of her car panting continuously, ears laid outward for he had lost his courage and couldn't keep them proud and tall. He sat motionless, waiting and limp.
But the thing that was the most disturbing was the look in his eyes. They were quiet eyes, sunken into his head - and they watched her. They were alive with thought. He was waiting for her to do something "to" him.
Little did he know at the time that, instead, she would "give" something to him. She gave him one of the little broken pieces of her heart.
She reached out to stroke his head and he instinctively squinched his eyes shut and dropped his head, waiting for the heavy hand. With that little bit of movement she gave him another one of the broken pieces of her heart.
She took him home and gave him a bath. She toweled him dry and brushed some order back into his coat. For that, he was grateful and even though his own heart was loaded with worms, he accepted yet another piece of her heart, for it would help to heal his own.
"Would you like some water, big boy?" She whispered to him as she set down a large bowl of cold well water. He drank it up happily. He had been dehydrated for a long time and she knew it would take him most of the week to re-hydrate.
He wanted more water - but it was gone. Ah... that's how it is, he thought to himself. But he was grateful for what he had been able to get. "Would you like some more?" and she gave him another bowl along with another little piece of her heart.
"I know that you are hungry. You don't have to find your own food anymore. Here's a big bowl of good food for you. I've added some warm water and a little piece of my heart."
Over the four months that he stayed with her, his health improved. The heart full of worms was replaced piece by piece with little bits of her loving heart. And each little piece worked a very special kind of magic.
When the warmth of love and gentle caresses are added, the little broken pieces knit together again and heal the container it resides in. That container becomes whole again.
She watched each little broken piece fill a gap in the gentle dog until his quiet eyes radiated the light from the little pieces. You see, kind words gently spoken turn the little pieces into illumination for the spirit that resides within.
He rested beside her, happy to be with her always. Never had he known such kindness, such gentle caresses; such love. His health had returned, his spirit was playful as a young dog's should be and he had learned about love.
Now his heart was full. The healing was complete. It was time to go. There was another person who had another heart that was meant to be shared with him.
So she sat shapeless on the floor because all the broken pieces of her heart were with the dog. It is difficult to sit tall when your heart is not with you. She wrapped her arms around the dog that sat with tall, proud ears for her. Lean on me, he said.
And she gave him one last thing that would keep him strong; that would keep the pieces of her heart together long after he had gone on to live his new life. She gave him her tears and bound them to the pieces with a simple statement made from the ribbons of her heart.
"I love you, Joe."
And Joe lived happily ever after.
Melissa sat on the floor, straight and tall like her mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child. Today, it would be possible. And tomorrow... it probably would be possible too. Because her mind was busy thinking about this, the next dog that lay across her lap.
Where did she get the heart to help yet another dog, you ask?
Ahhh... it came with the dog. They always bring a little bit of heart with them. And when the rescuer breathes in that little bit of heart, it quickly grows and fills the void left by the last dog.
Not a day goes by that I don't think about my fosters and how they are and if they're happy.
