Category:

The Dog They Weren't Gonna Love

11/7/2020

By Leslie Lenz

My Goldendoodle, Tucker, had just turned 10 when I started thinking about training my next service dog. I had promised myself that I was going to get a rescue this time because I was retired and would have more time to deal with “issues” that could come up with a rescue dog. I was also nearing 60 and a puppy’s worth of energy was out of the question! About this time my friend, Holly, a life-long dog lover, was trying to fill a hole in her dog pack left by Rosie, a beautiful Treeing Walker Coonhound. I got a call from Anna Nirva, looking for a reference for Holly to adopt. After letting Anna know that any dog going into Holly’s pack would have a better life than I do, we got to talking about my search for my next dog. Anna spent some time telling me about all the great traits coonhounds have and I told her that when she found the right dog for me she should let me know. I should have given Anna a lot more credit for not letting a “hot one” go!

Meanwhile, I was having a hard time at home convincing, The Ladies, my three caretakers (I’m pretty seriously physically disabled, hence the service dog), that it was “time”. They remembered vividly raising the last puppy, who was a holy terror 'til he was almost three, and were having trouble embracing the idea of a new dog. I heard several choruses of “I won’t love a new dog” and “he’s not ready to abdicate”. They put a lot of effort into being loyal to Tucker.

Ella's post on Facebook.

Ella on Anna's porch.

Fast forward a few weeks to the beginning of October, my search of the local rescues wasn’t offering anything I felt was right for our house. The phone rang one night, it was Anna calling to say she was fostering a young coonhound mix that she was hoping could meet my needs. She sent me a picture of “Ellery” that night. Her bright little face, definitely evident ribs and Anna’s assurance that she got along with cats, (yes, we have three of those, too!), just about clinched the deal. Now to be introduced.

I don’t know as much about Ellery as I’d like to, but I do know she spent a lot of time in kennels and shelters after being found on the side of a highway in North Carolina. She spent about a week in the county shelter before she was pulled out and put into a kennel for two weeks. Then she started her trip to Wisconsin, which included overnight stays at shelters and vets along the way. She had her first vaccinations, flea baths, and was spayed en route. There were strangers poking, prodding and crating her along with very long hours of driving. Finally, she made it to Anna’s house near Tomah, Wisconsin, approximately six weeks later.

Once I heard her story, I wanted to meet her ASAP to determine if she was done with the stop gap”ness” of her life or if I was going to help find her a permanent home.

I had spoken to Anna about setting up a meeting the following weekend but she was going camping for the weekend and Ellery was going to Chasing Daylight Animal Shelter for the weekend. Being in a wheelchair has its challenges; transportation is one of them. Tomah, WI, is a two and a half hour drive from my house in Milwaukee. Coordinating me, my wheelchair, someone to drive, Tucker, and Anna with Ellery was darn near impossible. Luckily, I have a few very close friends who are willing to “go the distance” (pun intended) for me, so a drive into the country during fall colors sounded like fun to them.

I called Chasing Daylight to find out their Sunday hours, and was told to call them when I got there and the Director would come and open the place up if it was closed. Now that’s dedicated! They also made introducing two completely unknown dogs to each other sound like a piece of cake! And they would do it! That whole Sunday was just about perfect. The weather was gloriously sunny and warm, the drive was easy, and my friend’s husband was also available to come along.

We arrived shortly before closing time, so my friend and I went in to meet Ellery while her husband waited in the van with Tucker. Dogs don’t always like me because of the wheelchair and some are really put off by the smell of prosthetics, so I was a little nervous. Ellery was released in the room and immediately started sniffing the huge pile of dog food bags. A short time later she noticed us and came over. She sniffed my friend first, then started in on my wheelchair, then me. She walked her front legs right up my legs and proceeded to kiss me everywhere she could reach. She was completely intent on sniffing every inch of me. She seemed to be relaxed and frankly, a lot happier than I expected.

Next hurdle, the face to face dog meet. One of the workers went out to the van to get Tucker for a walk around the grounds. About halfway along the path, another person came out with Ellery to join them and off they went.

Next thing I knew I was signing a check for far less than I thought it would be and I now owned two dogs! On our way home my friend asked why I was grinning. Had I forgotten I still had to convince the caretakers to accept Ellery? I told her that the sheer fact that I again shared my life with two dogs was enough to make me smile.

Leslie and Ella, going home!

Back on the home front, I decided to change Ellery’s name to involve the caretakers in an important decision and help them bond with her. Ellery just seemed a little too formal and one syllable too long. I had read somewhere that dog names should be as short as possible to help them differentiate their name from others. We wanted something as close to Ellery as possible, because we didn’t know how long it had been her name and she had been through so many changes in recent weeks. We decided on Ella. We started by calling Ella .....ry for the first week, then Ellahhh.....ry the next week and, finally, Ella. She seemed perfectly fine with the change.

Actually she seemed perfectly fine with everything after Tucker told her in no uncertain terms, shortly after walking in the door the first time, that every tennis ball in the house was HIS. From that point on she seemed comfortable.

We gave her a few weeks to relax and get to know us, our schedule, the people who take care of me, my family, their dogs, the cats, the neighborhood, the neighborhood dogs and the weather, before we started her formal training.

I should have filmed her reaction to the first snow! It was priceless! I think I can safely say she still hates snow and anything else that gets her feet wet (read: rain). She has developed an 18 hour bladder when it’s rainy; her idea, not mine!

This last year has been slightly different for us because, somehow, I managed to literally break my neck. I’ve been sleeping in a recliner since and Ella sleeps either under the footrest or behind the backrest. She was never trained for this.

When we’re out and about together she automatically puts herself between me and other people we don’t know. She was never trained to do this.

She meets people at our door with hackles raised, a solid WOOF!, sniffing out their intent. She was never trained to do this.

Somehow, Ella has made herself into my guard dog.

She sits and waits patiently while I fumble with putting the collar over her head because I don’t have the finger dexterity to operate a clip, then she waits again while I take it off!

Leslie, Tucker and Ella taking a walk.

I've always trained my own service dogs from puppyhood on. I always thought they bonded with me and coped with my physical differences because they never knew any other way. Ella was about a year old when she came to me. She most certainly had plenty of experience with people without disabilities, yet she accepts that I have to do things differently. Turns out they do it naturally as a part of loving you.

Almost exactly four years later Ella is a great dog. Absolutely the most laid back, quiet, loyal, protective, happy girl. I think she really likes her life. She was a very boney 33 lbs when she moved in. Now she is a muscular 69 lbs. She gets about an hour to hour and a half long walk most days, but if the weather doesn’t cooperate, she’s happy sharing the couch with two cats.

Ella and friend snoozing.

It took quite a while train her to get the lady that lives upstairs, but we didn’t realize that she was petrified of the cat that lives there because that one hissed at her at the top of the stairs. So we spent some time “retraining“ both of them with special treats together. She’s very protective of me and if her favorite cat manages to escape outside all I have to say is, “go find Gizee” and she does!

She’s welcomed with treats at the pharmacy and gets a “pet stop” at up to 6 departments in our local big box store. The local Burger King and McDonalds welcome her by name. My caretakers and my family fight over who gets her when I go on vacations.

This morning, after accidentally pinching Ella’s toes, I heard my caretaker say, “Oh, Ella, I’m so sorry. You know how much I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Last night I heard another caretaker say, “Ella, to think, you were the dog I wasn’t gonna love! What was I thinking?”. When you have a dog, love just multiplies.

An evocative picture of Ella from her vet clinic in North Carolina.

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EASY’S URBAN ADVENTURE or, You can take the dog out of the country, but….

1/13/2013

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by Gates Murchie
This past October, we visited our son, Colin, and his family (Molly and Miles) in the Washington, D.C. area. Our grandson’s first birthday provided the opportunity, and off we went. Though we usually impose on them in their house, this trip was different. Molly’s parents drove up from Texas for the party and had dibs on the spare bedroom. Up until now, our Black and Tan, Easy, stayed with friends when we traveled. This time, we grabbed the chance to expand Easy’s horizons to include hotel life in the “big city.”

Front to back: Miles, Candy, Franki, Easy

Step 1: find a “pet-friendly” hotel. Google provided a list of options and I began the search. As it turns out, it isn’t as easy as I thought. Although a number of hotel chains say they are “pet friendly”, it doesn’t necessarily mean “pet welcoming.” Many limit the pet size to 50 pounds or less (that would not be Easy!). Others impose significant fees for bringing your loved one on a per-stay or per day basis. It seemed we were destined to be 20+ miles away from the family and residing in a “third tier” establishment at “first tier” rates. That is until my son mentioned the Kimpton Hotels.

I looked and we were in the 3-4 star hotel category. Gloom filled the air. Then I found the Kimpton Helix hotel. A few short blocks from Dupont Circle (pix can be downloaded here) and 200 yards from Logan Circle, the 3-star hotel was in the middle of shops, attractions and dining and a mere 5 miles from my son’s house. The gloom thickened as I imagined the cost. I called anyway and the cheerful reservation person quickly ascertained my eligibility for discounts, offering a rate competitive with the pet-loaded rates at the other hotels. OK, now what can go wrong? Oh, yeah, the dog. I asked about bringing Easy. She said, “How big is he?” Expecting a fee adder, I sighed and said, “About 75-80 pounds.” Her response, “Oh, he’ll need a big bed. Does he want his own bowls?” What? He’s welcome! You’ll provide a bed and bowls? What’s his favorite treat? You’ve never taken reservations for a coonhound before and you’re excited! Free wine every evening? Okay, we’ll be there.

So now, the trip begins in earnest. Easy is in the back of the Subaroooooo and we are off. Only, he thinks we are going to nearby Otsiningo Park to tree squirrels and begins baying as we leave the driveway. Thirty miles later, he realizes his error and we now know why they have hound boxes in THE BACK of pickup trucks. The next 3 hours go by uneventfully and we pause at a Pennsylvania rest stop for a picnic lunch. Not just A rest stop, but THE BEST rest stop EVER. Why, you ask? Because the rest stop attendants have been feeding the squirrels around the trees in the dog walking area!!!! Hooray!!!!! Anyway, this recreational interlude gets even better when a second hound shows up to join the chorus. Back in the car and time for a nap.

Arrival - and Easy meets with his old friend, Frankie the dog

Frankie and Easy

Frankie is my son’s rescue dog and he is a North American LBD (Little Brown Dog). They proceed to light up the neighborhood with barking and bawling as they chase squirrels in the yard and on a walk. City squirrels are a little too sassy for Easy and he quickly teaches them that running 3 feet up a tree is not far enough to avoid a near-death experience at the mouth of a coonhound. This lesson would be repeated numerous times during our visit, in the yards parks, streets, and outdoor cafes of the D.C. area.

Now, it is late and time for the hotel…we arrive, 15 hours into our day and looking a bit bedraggled. We are met with an on-going full-blown party and a moment of wondering, “What happens next?” A hearty greeting and a pat for Easy and now, we face navigating the crowd and ….. an elevator. Luckily, for the uninitiated, a B&T coonhound looks enough like a Rottweiler that navigating the crowd quickly resolves itself. This would also prove true when walking the city streets. People respect your personal space when part of it is occupied by a serious dog. Back to the elevator.

Easy does not like new surfaces or wiggly floors. The vet’s moving table and scale are not popular places. Anyway, the elevator opens and two people get in, not realizing we are getting on, too. They look nervous and Easy freezes. Undeterred, I tug and Candy scoops and he is in. This was his one and only problem with the elevator. All further trips went without a hitch, although I can only imagine what went through his mind. “OK. There was this party and these people and we got into the little room and then the door closed and then it opened and they were gone and then we went to bed and got into the little room and the door closed and it opened and different people were there.” (I imagine Easy thinks in run-on sentences.)

A quick call and Easy’s very comfy bed and bowls show up at the (very nice) room and our first night begins. No issues except that he stares at the dog in the floor to ceiling mirrors and tries to look behind them.

The next morning at 7, it is time for the a.m. walk. We travel up to Logan Circle and quickly accomplish the mission… and discover that the circle and its trees are loaded with squirrels in desperate need of a fitness program. The new regime is announced with great gusto and much fanfare. Unfortunately, the ceremonies serve to wake those unfortunates who spend the night sleeping at the circle. There is much grumbling and rustling of plastic. I feel bad about this and resolve to avoid repeating it the next day, if possible. Their lives are difficult enough (pic can be downloaded here).

Breakfast outdoors at Caribou Coffee is another new experience for Mr. E. Coonhound. Still exhibiting exemplary behavior, he sits under the table and examines the passing parade with great interest. Different smells from different cultures, different vehicles and different foods all provide the same amusement as a morning paper … Until he discovers pigeons. They act like squirrels, make squirrel noises, flutter about and are annoying. A surprise bawl sets things aright and gives the other patrons something to remember.

Easy holding still for his close-up

The rest of the visit is equally wonderful, the birthday party a great success and the return trip satisfying. Easy took many more elevator rides, met many more people and showed us that he is a traveler of great sophistication. And that you can’t take the country out of the dog.

"Easy's dreams after his visit to the nation's capital swells his head."

Bo invited me!

That's one funny looking raccoon!

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Easy is a Better Person Than I

6/18/2012

9 Comments

By Gates Murchie

Easy is a Black and Tan coonhound. Once possessed of UKC and AKC papers (lost during an unpleasant period of his life), he is a handsome fellow. In his 7-8 years, Easy passed through several kind and considerate families, a neglectful/abusive owner, a shelter, and a foster home before coming to us. He hunted, slept on sofas and was loved. He also endured starvation, freezing cold, a terrifying wound, a long rehabilitation and the constant threat of death. Yet he came out the other side with several thousand pounds of calm, considerate, canine wisdom in a seventy-eight pound body; Easy is a better person than I.

Kind to all non-tree-climbing mammals, and our cats, Easy harbors no pre-conceived notions about others and judges only on behavior, not rumor, stereotype or prejudice. He cares not about feline nature, social station, physical limitation, past transgression, religious belief or political af filiation. A thinker of deep thoughts, he does not act precipitously, even in the face of social pressure, intimidation or implied force. Easy is the independent captain of his own ship; loyal to his friends, open and accepting of strangers, kind to children, intolerant of bullying, immune to bribes, and fierce in the face of hostility. I want to grow up to be like him.

Others may “walk” their dogs, but close observation reveals that the dog on said walk is not having a very good time. The people stop, talk and socialize; the dogs aren’t allowed to. The kids run, shout and play; the dogs don’t. The dog on these walks seldom does what it was born to do (unless early cave men had purses).

I get approached by other men, men who are walking dogs on shoestring leashes, and they say, “Gee, I wish I had a real dog like yours.” That’s because we get our recreation and exercise on “hunts” in the local parks to locate and exercise the local squirrel population. Maintaining their tree-climbing skills is a vocation for Easy. Though his punishment for those failing to maintain those skills may seem harsh, it is all for the best. When asked by the local squirrel-feeding lady, “Do you think that is a good time?”, I can only reply, “Not particularly, but he does!” Easy is passionate in the pursuit of this hobby, marshalling his energy and resources in rest only to expend them in a great rush of activity and song. Similar to flying a line-control aircraft with a full-size fighter aircraft on the end, he is joyful and focused from his nose to his rapidly circling “helicopter” tail. This endeavor can lead him into dangerous adventures and requires the intervention of friends with a more objective view.

My constant companion, he provides the resigned acceptance only available from true friends when I come up short. I know that as a “hunting” pack member, I am slow, lazy and relatively stupid. My lack of focus and failure to consummate our hunts in the public parks frustrates him, but he never gives me a hard time about it. I know I’m merely projecting when I think I detect a sarcastic smirk. Were he human, I feel in my bones that Easy would pick me, despite my shortcomings, in any team selection process, just because he’s a nice guy and I’m his friend.

Easy accepts the hand that life dealt him. He stands stoically to receive the bandages, padding and protection that are to be his lot in life, without complaint. He deals with the inconvenience of his cats and the limits of his home turf. He luxuriates in the attention of his humans. He trains others in the protocols and traditions of his species and stands ready to be a friend to all. In short, he is Andy Griffith in a really good dog suit… and I am either Barney Fife or Opie, depending on the day.

We may be stupid, stubborn, lazy, smelly, loud and difficult to train, but he adopted us anyway….

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Olivia’s Story Part One: Her Road to Rescue and Her Human Helpers Along the Way

8/26/2011

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This August 5th was Olivia’s Adoption Day. The day we took hold of her leash and walked her into our home. Her birthday and age is only an educated guess. She was one or two years old when she was picked up as a stray in Round Rock, suburb of Austin, Texas and brought to Town Lake Animal Center (TLAC). In 2007, TLAC had a three day hold policy, Olivia was given her three days, waiting for an owner to claim her, after that she was scheduled to undergo euthanasia. The first photo I have of our Olivia was taken of her in her cage at the shelter, she was sitting next to a pail of water looking up at the camera. She was given the required shots, an ID number and a small chance to live.

Lucky for her, the staff thought she was a sweet girl and alerted one of the rescue volunteers. These volunteers have taken on the unenviable task of visiting the dog shelter to look for dogs that they can “pull” and bring into a foster program. Many of the dogs won’t be saved and this is their last chance. Olivia’s road to life started with Coonhound Companions member Jerry Dunham. Coonhounds are one of the many breeds that he helps save.

He knows his hounds and was surprised that he had missed her on his recent visit, but when he approached her cage he could see why. She was curled up in a tight ball at the back of cage. He said “she looked liked she had given up”. To this day, when Olivia feels stressed, I find her in her bed, curled so tight that I can’t lift her paw. We call it her “coonhound lockdown” time.

Many phone calls and juggling of schedules later he found a foster home for her. He was allowed to pull her under the auspices of The Texas Alaskan Malamute Rescue. Our little underweight, scared black and tan coonhound went to Lynn, who fosters Mals but found room in her busy life and home for Olivia.

I later found out that the very pink slippers that can be seen on Olivia’s Pet Finder page were Lynn’s.

Olivia went from a being a hungry, injured stray, surviving on the streets by herself to being given a second chance and what may have been her very first name ever, “Scout”.

She was put up for adoption on Pet Finder and the American Black and Tan Coonhound Rescue’s site, I first saw her picture there.

Lynn was the first to notice that Olivia was showing signs of being very sick and alerted Jerry. He contacted a local vet that would do pro-bono work of rescue dogs to see if she would take a look at Olivia. “Scout's” survival was in question. She came out of the shelter with a nasty kennel cough that quickly turned into double pneumonia. It was touch and go for several days, but she pulled through and we are grateful to vets like Dr. Culp that donate their time to rescue dogs.

Before adopting Olivia I wanted to know more about her. My dogs had always been six to eight weeks old when I got them and I wanted to know what I could expect with a full grown dog. Jerry answered every question I emailed him and if he didn’t know, he put me in contact with someone that did. This was my first experience adopting a dog and I had some trepidation, but I had made the decision to “walk the talk” and adopt a dog from a shelter. The commitment and support of these rescue workers sharing their stories about coonhound behavior, and what I could expect when I brought her into our home sealed the deal for us. I said yes. We’ll take her!

Foster mom Lynn, says good bye to a now healthy Scott!

My current work with Coonhound Companions is my way of “paying it forward” - repaying the support and help I received, and continue to receive, for my Olivia from the dog rescue community. Many coonhound owners have begun to share their coonhound stories on our Coonhound Companions Facebook Page, and follow our Long Ears Blog on our CoonhoundCompanions.com website.

Anyone can help save a life by simply going to www.coonhoundcompanions.com, click on Poster & More and download the free PDF’s of posters and promotion kits. Pass the link onto a friend, your local shelter or rescue group. Every “like”, comment, and download is helping save a coonhound life and better the understanding of this oft-misunderstood breed.

The life I helped save was Olivia’s. On August 5, 2006 my husband and I met the transport driver Norm, in our local park. We signed some paper work and took her leash from him. My life changed immediately. I was once considered the consummate dog person, but I soon discovered that I knew little about how to handle this neglected, fearful canine.

Olivia: “The Cautious Canine”.

What’s going to be title of Olivia’s Story, part two? “She Exhausts Me.”

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Phoebe's First Day

7/14/2011

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Phoebe (left) and new "sister" Jet

At her foster home, they called her “Cricket.” Lloyd (my husband) wanted to make her "truly" ours, so he chose “Phoebe.” I still want to call her Cricket sometimes, only because I've been calling her that for what seems like such a long time (about two months). But Lloyd said we should make her our own girl and that includes a name and he's right. Funny thing: I say, "C'mon, Phoebe, come on girl, good Phoebes," and she comes right over. So I'm giving her "Cricket" for her middle name. I won't use it, but it makes me feel happy to know it'll be there. (Kind of like when you have a kid with a middle name and when you want them to know you're serious, you say "June Ann, clean your room right now"! I don't think I'll be asking Phoebe to clean anything, though.)

We got to the meeting place an hour early on purpose, just so we wouldn't be late. We were to meet her transporter, Peter, in the Pier 1 parking lot next to the mall, at 4:25 pm. Being so early, we went into the store to kill time. At 4:00, we figured we'd sit in the lot and wait but Lloyd spotted the driver's car (we were told ahead of time what kind of car he'd be driving -- believe it or not, a BMW sedan!), and Peter, with the two dogs on leashes ... He was early! Cricket and Gray (a cool-looking blue heeler mix that had been at the same rescue home as Phoebe Cricket, was her good friend, and was making his way to Ipswich, MA by way of Nashua, NH), and both were straining like mad on their leashes. When we came over, I said, "Hi Cricket! Hi Gray!"

We tried to "meet" Cricket but she was so wild-ish and really unhappy on the leash, straining and pulling and doing the crazy circle-in-the-air-I'm-going-to-choke-myself thing. And she was shy and backed away, even from a hand under her chin. Peter gave us the manila envelope with all her papers in it and by that time, the next driver who was taking Gray to the next stopping point had arrived. Peter took Gray to the other driver and Phoebe Cricket went wild, trying to get to Gray! I wanted to cry I felt so badly for her. So Lloyd and I quickly got her to our car and she hopped into the back seat. I went in next to her instead of staying in the front seat because I wanted her to feel secure and Lloyd thought it was a good idea because we weren't sure how she'd be in the back seat alone ... Would she try to jump in the front? She lay down and within a short time, put her head on my knee. So sweet.

We got home 45 minutes later and I went into the house to get Jet, our small black and tan, on her leash. I also got the Gentle Leader for Phoebe because we saw how not-very-good she was with the collar and leash and didn't want her to hurt her neck or throat. I was a little worried that the Gentle Leader would be too much for her to take all at once -- you know, two days in 15 different cars and an overnight stay in a strange place, new people-owners, new dog friend, new place, and now a thing around her face? -- but I was worried about the way she was on the leash and regular collar, so I put it on her. It only took about 2½ minutes for her to stop fighting the band across her nose and like magic, she walked like a lady on the leash!! Then we brought Jet out and they sniffed each other just a little ... Jet is laid back and seemed kind of disinterested and Phoebe just wanted to lick Jet's rear end. So Lloyd and I set off with the two dogs on leashes and Gentle Leader collars and we had a great walk!

Phoebe did best when she was walking right next to Jet. They didn't interact much but there was no aggression whatsoever, none at all. We came back to our house and without going inside, went to the backyard with the dogs. Then they ran around a bit but Jet was still very separate, like she usually is. Then the neighbors let their 6-month-old Golden Retriever in the yard and it was crazy because she's verrrrry active. Jet, Phoebe, and Ruby were running like crazy and were having a great time, all of them together. That went on for about half an hour. Ruby went back home and then it was time for Jet and Phoebes to eat dinner.

Although we have the crate all set up, we thought, "Let's see what happens if we just feed them in two different places." Up to this point, Phoebe wouldn't accept any treats, not dog biscuits, not peanut butter biscuits, not beef snacks. Nothing. Poor girl. I got the kibble into the bowls but Phoebe wouldn't eat and I remembered that Jet had been the same way for about a week when we'd just found her. I think it's an issue of trust and/or nervous stomach -- newness, too much traveling, too many people. So I put some wet food in the bowls and both dogs ate everything. It was so good to see! Then it was relaxation time and Phoebe sure knows how to relax! She jumped right on the couch and sprawled all over. Jet gave her quite a once over, as if to say, "Who the heck do you think you are?" but she took the club chair and lay down, too. After Lloyd and I had dinner, we sat with the dogs and watched TV and petted them both and everyone was happy.

Bedtime. We wondered what would happen but we were game for the experiment. Jet always sleeps in our room, either on her dog bed or on the bed with us and we had bought Phoebe her own gigantic dog bed and thought she'd sleep there. Wrong. Right up on the bed! That was fine, except she'd rested quite enough between the yard time and bedtime and she was in play mode. Sorry, pup ... gotta do what the family is doing. Jet knows the drill and settled herself in the crook of Lloyd's knees. When Phoebe jumped on the bed and bumped into Jet, I heard Jet with a low growl in her throat for the very first time! I yelled at her, "NO, Jet. NO growling," and I petted her instantly and hugged her. Phoebe settled elsewhere on the bed and all was well. It didn't take long and she settled down and slept most of the night at my feet, changing position once or twice and even jumping down to nest on her dog bed once or twice.

In the morning, same thing happened with a Jet growl because Phoebe got too close to her when Jet was snuggled next to me. But it was momentary, no problems. It seems Jet doesn't like to be touched by Phoebe when Jet is sleeping right next to either of us, otherwise, she's fine. We haven't seen this when they're playing outside or even elsewhere in the house, only on the bed.

We all got up, leashes went on the dogs, and the four of us took a walk. Good girls. Good Lloyd and Stacy. Came back and repeated the yard exercise and they ran with each other like mad, play fighting -- no growls, just play-mouthing each other -- and wandering. Both girls go into the little "woods" of the yard to "do their business." They're really great! Then they had breakfast and I was happy to see Phoebe ate almost all of her kibble without wet food. Good! She doesn't seem to want snacks yet, but she needs time.

Right now, after all their playing, Jet is sleeping on the cool ceramic tile floor and Phoebe is outside on the deck in the sun, near-ish to Lloyd. It's beautiful weather here, not hot, sunny and breezy. And we have two beautiful dogs who are, oddly, the same exact size. Weird for two hounds who belong to breeds that are usually larger than 40-45 pounds. Although Phoebe weighs a little less than Jet's 44 pounds, I'm sure it's because she's so skinny. She's actually a heavier-boned dog than Jet and I'm sure she'll fill out to be the larger (heavier) of the two. But since she's older than a year, I don't think she'll grow much bigger.

I think she's pretty close to a year or just a bit older because she's very puppyish still, mouthy, lively, going after toys. Jet, who we figure is also just over a year and a half, has lost some of that. She chewed my couches (!) and was a lot like Phoebe is now just until a couple of months ago. Could be she also finally realized this is really home and we know Phoebe will take some time to come to the same conclusion. In all, we think she's a beautiful dog and she'll be just fine with her new home and new sister. I love the way they play ... and then they separate. It's all going to work out just fine.

And by the way, Phoebe never noticed kitty yesterday, today being the first time she even realized Saidar was in the house. Nothing happened. Nothing. She just walked right by. Kitty, on the other hand, ran behind the door to stay on the steps to the basement in case she needed a quick getaway.

I think it's going to be great and she was quite a bargain! We've got a new little girl. Her soft brown eyes are superb and in all, we think she's a sweetie.

By Stacy Stableford

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How I Ended Up Adopting My Coonhound

7/5/2011

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I was in the right place at the right time…. It must have been fate!

I had made arrangements to go to Pet Smart to adopt a lab puppy who was being surrendered by the owners. The owners must have had second thoughts about it as they never showed up. While I was there, I saw a lab mix dog I thought my husband might like but i was not sure, the rescue group asked me what I thought about possibly fostering the dog to see if he would be a good match for us. I decided I would give it a try but he ended up being adopted before I had finished getting all the stuff I needed to bring him home. I guess it was just not meant to be.

As i got ready to leave I heard the foster moms saying that one dog had to go back to the kennel because it didn’t have a foster home. They felt bad because the dog just got off a plane to New Jersey. It seemed so sad! I asked what kind of dog it was and they said - "oh wait you have to see it!" Well, into the store walked not a puppy, but a full grown black and tan coonhound! Not knowing what I was getting into, I took him home. Was my husband ever so suprised to see what was not a puppy get out of the car. I had heard of them before but knew nothing about coonhounds. That day I started my coonhound research. They had him listed as a plott hound, which he is definitely not. He is a black and tan coonhound, he is older, they say about 5, but I think he is more of about 7 or 8 years old.

We were only supposed to foster him for a week, but within that week my family and I fell in love with him and the coonhound breed! We have all been doing all the research we can. They called this one Zain, he didn’t listen, and he seemed to only want to sleep. While watching TV my husband said Duke and he picked up his head and came running over! We asked him, "is your name Duke?" he started wagging his whole body, from that point on he answered to Duke and was very happy we knew his name! He gained 7 lbs and started to actually play. He was on death row in West Virginia in a high kill shelter, he was a stray found just walking around. He came into my home and he never went to the bathroom inside. He has been the perfect southern gent.. I can not see my life ever again without a coonhound. I even love the way he smells!

Here in New Jersey, everyone thinks he is a rottie with long ears! They have no idea what they are missing in New Jersey. I would love to be a part of helping the people here learn more about coonhounds. Duke is the perfect spokes person for coonhounds! He is so docile.. he is good with kittens and children.

I have to protect him, you could do anything to this guy! I will make sure nothing but love is ever done for him!

Susan Staff & Duke