February 2009 Archives

A quick Juneau update …
Juneau has attended two clicker-training sessions. Lots of clicks. Lots of treats. But they have not gotten her to “come here” or “lay down (on command, that is).”
She does “sit” and “stay” with hardly any instruction or reward; probably because “stay” is her normal state of being indoors.
Food does not really motivate Juneau, adding to the challenge of clicker-training her. We went with steak and chicken leftovers for her first class. But my hands got so greasy, I could barely open the car door to go home. And I found myself looking over my shoulder to make sure the other dogs in the class weren’t trailing me.
We went with hot dogs for her second class. Didn't seem as greasy, but Juneau seemed to lose her taste for them about 45 minutes into the hour-long class. She likes steak.

On the home front, a tag team was painstakingly pieced together so that Juneau would not be alone and in her crate for more than 3 ½ hours in the morning and 2 ½ hours in the afternoon. I get up at 5:30 a.m. and run Juneau in the woods to tire her out on days she must be crated. But my son Tom’s changing work schedule is upsetting The System. Which means tomorrow Juneau will be dropped off at Doggie Day Care. The cost: $26 a day.
The facility is within a mile of my house, so the drop-off is convenient. But it is 20 miles from The Sun, so mad dashes may be necessary to retrieve Juneau before the place closes at 6:30 p.m. Otherwise, Juneau gets kenneled there for the night at an additional charge of $50. And I will not get any sleep knowing she is not in her crate in the kitchen, but a mile down the road wondering why I didn't pick her up.
As the above pictures show, though, Juneau isn’t as keen on her crate now that she can leap in a single bound onto my half of the bed. This shows her Sunday night while I was in the living room watching the Academy Awards. As soon as “Slumdog Millionaire” was announced as Best Picture, I clicked off the TV and carried Juneau to her crate, where she whined about her suddenly cramped accommodations.

Once an animal-control officer drops off a stray dog at Wignall Animal Hospital in Dracut, a grim clock starts ticking.
Hospital staff has 10 days to find the dog’s owner, find the dog a new home or make that decision every dog-lover dreads.
“This is a healing facility,” said Patricia Mancini, the hospital’s manager. “To be put in the position of having to end an animal’s life is traumatic. We try to take solace in that at least here the animal is loved and not killed by somebody out of cruelty, or not dying on the street. But it’s very difficult on our staff. It takes a toll.”
Nearly 400 dogs picked up each year by animal-control officers in Lowell and Dracut wind up at Wignall. Nearly half are happily claimed by their owners. If a dog is not claimed within five days, though, the staff knows the dreaded decision of the 10th day is certainly coming.
Some animals are unadoptable because of behavioral or medical issues and must be put down. Others are in need of only love. But this 10,000-square foot animal hospital, which also includes a boarding facility and dog day care, has not the space and resources to house them all.
Staff members, their soft hearts further softened by each case, often break down and bring home a sad-case animal. “In fact, it’s become a joke that it’s an initiation for new staff members,” says Mancini.
Being unable to take them all home can be unbearable. As day 10 approaches, Jolene Landry, the hospital’s kennel manager, sends out e-mails searching for shelters with space. One of those e-mails last year resulted in Wignall Animal Hospital forging a relationship with the Northeast Animal Shelter in Salem, which Mancini says so far has saved almost 100 dogs from the Lowell area that probably otherwise would have been euthanized.
Laurie McCannon, the development director at Northeast, drives to Wignall in a van each week. On one trip, she returned to Salem with eight dogs after driving to Dracut to rescue four. The Wignall staff kept pleading, “Take this one, too!”
“They all have a personal thing with each dog,” says McCannon. “They’re kissing them goodbye and putting them in the van.”
Northeast is a no-kill shelter.
McCannon laughs, recalling the first dog she came to rescue at Wignall.
“Strangest-looking dog I ever saw,” she says. “Short-legged. Basset-hound body. Big head. Scruffy and tan. Big underbite. I said, ‘Oh my God, what is this thing?’”
Strange as the dog named Stohli looked, it was cute enough to be adopted from Northeast within three days.
Last August, the staff at Wignall convinced McCannon to take a big old black lab with a graying muzzle that had been abandoned in Lowell and faced being put down. The dog named “Riley” would lie quietly under McCannon’s desk but bark in his cage when potential adopters arrived. He was adopted last September by a Somerville woman who saw his picture on the Northeast Animal Shelter Web site.
Wignall Hospital owner Dr. David McGrath and Mancini recently presented Northeast Animal Shelter with a check for $3,009, raised during Wignall’s annual Santa Sunday photo event in December.
“Northeast Animal Shelter has been a fantastic partner,” says Mancini. “They have made a huge impact on the outcome of the animal kingdom in Lowell. Animal-lovers in our community are fortunate.”

Juneau in the woods, returning to me when I call, showing off her Santonio Holmes speed. In nature she is a free-spirited, fun-loving animal — a far cry from the jittery indoor Juneau. Perhaps she understands her name is the capital of wild Alaska.

Big fright in the Saugus woods. We nearly lost the Juneau half of Juneau & Me this past Saturday. For nearly an hour, I considered the possibility that Juneau was indeed gone. In a daze, I wandered the neighborhood near Breakheart Reservation. People hurried their children into their houses and peeked through curtains, fearful of this dazed man howling JUNEAU! HERE JUNEAU!
My two daughters, Annie and Marybeth, had taken Juneau for a walk in the woods. With me, Juneau will run 50 yards ahead on the trail, but always wait. With my daughters, Juneau reached a point on the trail, sat down, stared at Annie and Marybeth, then burst off in the other direction. She was seen running through the parking lot and down the street, past a busy hockey rink and toward a busy street lined with shopping centers. After Juneau failed to respond to my younger daughter Annie’s calls, I am told she screamed, “The stupid dog doesn’t even know her name!”
I was home when an hysterical Annie called on her cell phone. I could barely understand her. I thought the dog had just run off somewhere in the woods, so wasn’t too worried. I figured I could find her. But when I arrived at the Breakheart parking lot four miles away, and my daughters pointed in the direction Juneau headed, I got a sick feeling. The street was so busy with Saturday shopping traffic, no way Juneau would have made it across without being hit by a car. My only reassuring thought was that she is so timid, she wouldn’t have even tried to cross. She was more likely huddled under a porch somewhere.
As I searched from the busy street back toward Breakheart, my daughter Marybeth’s boyfriend Joe came driving toward me. There, sitting in the front passenger seat, was Juneau. Joe found Juneau back near one of the entrances to Breakheart, playing with another dog. Juneau was wearing her pink sweater, but had lost her blue overcoat during her adventure. She looked scared. Hopefully too scared to try that again. I was somewhat amused then hearing other people’s tales of their pound dogs running off, and eventually returning. I then remembered my previous dog, Hayley, had once run off and wound up in the Lynn pound.

These photos are from Juneau’s first bath on Saturday night. The second bath will be the real test, since who knows what deep emotional scars were imbedded during this initial suds-filled exercise. Juneau seemed not to love being bathed, nor did she seem to hate it. That is sort of her demeanor toward everything but runs in the snowy woods. She is a different animal in the wilderness. I can't wait to take her to the mountains this summer. I took video Sunday of her running the Ridge Trail in Breakheart Reservation just to show my family. They couldn’t believe the dog on video was the same creature they see cowering around the house.
A developing problem related to Juneau is I am prematurely exhausting my 2009 vacation time trying to forge a routine for her. The attention she requires also makes it difficult to pry myself away for a drive to Philadelphia to visit my granddaughter, Madeleine, age 6 months. I mean, I love Juneau and all, but ...

Like Juneau, this dog was rescued from a neglect/abuse situation in Puerto Rico and needs a home. The following description is from the Northeast Animal Shelter Web site.

Cindy
Age: 4 years
Weight:
Breed: Smooth Terrier Mix
Gender: Female Altered
Been with us since: 12/1/08
Status: available
Cindy is from Puerto Rico! She was rescued from a neglect/abuse situation. She was tied out in a back yard for weeks on end and the only glimpse she got of a human was when someone threw out food and water for her. She was very lonely and very depressed when she was rescued. Because of that lack of socialization she just loves to be in the company of people. It does take her a while to warm up, she won't be your friend immediately. She loves to play and even learned to toss her own toys and fetch them herself. When there is no one to play with I guess you have to make do! There is a lot to learn about our Cindy so if you are considering adoption please come in and say hello.