Shakey Ground

It happens fast. The bond, that is. When a pet finds you, and claims your heart.

He was thin, scared, anxious, and frantically looking for his traveling mate, his litter mate, his brother. This short haired blonde pup was a sad beauty.

He came into our lives on a July, Tuesday morning in 2004, laying on the steps to my office door, but not quite sleeping or resting.  Hoping, I’d say. That the keeper of  this door would help him find the normal of his life again.

By mid afternoon, he had been conned into the office, where he fought panic, and the comfort offered.

By late afternoon, my good hearted husband reluctantly agreed to see him, and let me be the finder of a permanent home for him. But he was to remain at my office in the marina… not at our rented home just two blocks away.  (I suspect that my husband knew, once in the house, forever in the heart.)

That mostly sleepless night had me envisioning major destruction to property that I would be explaining to my boss, from a young pup who was frightened, lost, and in the chewing stage of his life. But when I turned the key in the door the next morning, I was shocked (and relieved) to discover, no damage or evidence of "pet waste" from the captive animal.

Throughout the day, coworkers who had been aware of him on the property, and now in my care, dropped by to see how we were doing. A passed gas or two during the day at very awkward moments (while a customer stood near enough to look accusingly at me) gave me cause to believe this pup hadn’t had a healthy diet in at least days if not weeks.

Late that first afternoon we had attempted to pick him up to put him in my husband’s van, and take him to our house, just to see if he could or would relax. Cornering him in the inner office, and staging an attempt to lift him, we observed the saddest thing I have ever seen an animal do. With absolutely no aggression, only fear, he leaned against the outer door frame, lowered his head toward the floor, touching only his nose, and surrendered.  I wept.

The staff meeting on Monday morning had included from security and maintenance, the report of two pups wandering the property over the previous weekend, and the call had been made to the Dog Catcher. I mentioned that I had been at my office on Sunday, and recalled seeing a small black and tan pup nearby, yipping his happy little head off at a young couple sitting on the swing, waterside. I had thought he was with them at the time.  It occurred to me that first afternoon that this blonde stranger was the traveling mate who the complaints were about, but where was the yipper? And I guessed that was what this blonde was wondering too.

A call to our friend, Scott, a veterinarian, Wednesday morning, and a trip by Bo over to Scott’s office later that day, determined Blonde pup’s health, good, approximate age, about 1 year old, and a prescription from Dr. Scott to Bo.  “Take this little fella home, Bo, and love him.”  (While signing in at the vet’s office, the girl at the desk asked Bo the dog’s name. Because the dog continued to behave quite stressed and panicky, Bo was reminded of Don Knotts in the movie “ Shakiest Gun in the West”, and proclaimed that the dog’s name was Shakey.)

Dragging the now named Shakey to work with me Thursday and Friday morning, I noticed the first block and a half he resisted frantically the leash, and the traffic had him in a mess, but as soon as we got on the marina property he began sniffing like a tracking hound.  By Friday morning for sure, I determined he could smell his little traveling partner all over the area they had been together.  My friend and coworker, Heather, suggested I try the Dog Catcher to see if they had picked up the other pup on that first day.  Brilliant idea!  A quick trip over there on our lunch break, gave Bo and I our first encounter with the little black and tan pup
I had seen that previous Sunday. He went crazy and acted all spazzy in the quarantine cage he was in when we entered the room with a worker, and when we were told he could not be freed until the next Sunday, we agreed to bring  Shakey there on Sunday morning to see if they had any recognition behavior toward each other.

With the video camera set and charged, Sunday morning we leashed up the reluctant Shakey, got him in the truck and headed for the reunion. (I was certain this was the pup I had seen, but didn’t know for sure that they were companions.)

Bo was instructed by the keeper on staff to wait with Shakey in a fenced area where I would walk the black and tan out to them. Well, Disney would be proud of this Kodak moment in a film!  These two absolutely went nuts the moment they saw each other, and when the gate was opened to the fenced area, there was licking and pawing and jumping and yipping and laughing and crying, (those last two by me mostly) and we were convinced by the matters of the heart to now be the owners of two dogs!

The vet at the pound where the black and tan had been incarcerated for the past six days, had examined and determined his health, good, and approximate age, 1 year old. Could it be? These two dogs looking so very different, including size…Shakey being almost twice as big as the other…. Be littermates?  The vet at the pound stated that it was very possible. And Dr. Scott, after meeting the black and tan stated the same. There are lots of physical features and many more character and behavior traits, which would convince one to agree.  

By the time we were back to the house, black and tan was now known as Spazz. His performance that Friday when we saw him in the quarantine cage and the reunion scene sealed it. He was and is a Spazz!!

That was 2004. This year, 2012, the “boyz” as I often refer to them, celebrate their 9^th year on this earth. Only they and God know what the first year of their lives was like. Bo and I know what the past 8 years of their lives have been.  From the Gulf coast of Florida, Charlotte Harbor and the Caloosahatchee River, to the Pacific coast of central California, Big Sur, to the Ozarks in north central Arkansas, these pups have provided laughter, and company, and some anger and frustration… but mostly unconditional love. 

It was Wednesday, May 30^th, 2012. It happens fast. Merciful euthanasia. The cancer arrived, showed itself and in less than one month it was systemic lymphoma. Again, a friend, this time, Dr.Matt, offers Bo a prescription of love for Shakey. 

Interrupted Freedom...or rescued ?

White Haired Lady tells folks "we rescued them". Big Dude tells folks, "we interrupted their freedom".  The photo above shows us chillin' in our new home, in Punta Gorda, Florida. It was just a couple of weeks later when Hurricane Charley struck the Punta Gorda shoreline of Charlotte Harbor, and changed all of our lives.
Since the day we, my brother Shakey (the blonde) and I, Spazz, came to live with the White Haired Lady and Big Dude, we have experienced several hurricanes; moved from tropical Florida to Arkansas, where it gets C O L D and snows!... AND lived through a Super system killer tornado in 2008; spent nearly a year in Big Sur, California, and got our paws in the chilly Pacific Ocean, and almost experienced an earthquake, (it hit the central coast of California less than 24 hours after we left Big Sur).
These are just a few of the highlights of our journey with these humans since July of 2004. 
Now, while you might be confused as to whether I am bragging or complaining, let me clear it up for you. 
My brother and I are approaching our 9th birthday in human years, 63rd in dog years, and I know that if these humans had not taken us into their hearts, we likely would not have seen our 2nd (14th) birthday. 
Living on the streets is tough for canines, and if picked up by the Canine Police, (which I was) chances of leaving their "pound" alive are slim. So, when Shakey hung around White Haired Lady's office for two days after my incarceration, and she convinced Big Dude to take him home and find him a new owner, it was 3 days later that she realized that Shakey was grieving over our separation. To hear White Haired Lady and Big Dude tell it, his Oscar winning performance of a broken spirit was the reason they began looking for me. 
White Haired Lady called the Canine Police Shelter, and when she and Big Dude took their lunch break to walk through the jail cells of the unfortunate pups who had been picked up that week, they found ME in the QUARANTINE room. 
Two days later, and one very emotional "Walt Disney movie" reunion scene of me and Shakey, at the pound, White Haired Lady and Big Dude surrendered to PET OWNERSHIP.
I have to say, my brother and I can be a handful! And Big Dude has been the most tolerant human we could ask for. He is not exactly partial to having animals, and he has had to take on many unpleasant duties in keeping us healthy and clean. Since loving us comes easier to White Haired Lady, I will just say this... BIG DUDE IS THE BEST !!! and we probably love him the best too.  But don't tell white Haired Lady, we don't want to hurt her feelings. 
Since this is the Dogs-n-Blogs blogspot, we felt it was time to take over the writing duties. White haired Lady has done the best she can to keep at it, but as you can see, the entries trickle in only once or twice a year. So from this entry on, Shakey and I will keep you updated on life at our house, and White Haired Lady will just give us a 'hand'.