By Marilyn Swan

I recently had to put my 11-year-old Walker Coonhound, Daisy, to rest. She developed a very aggressive form of lymphoma which took her quickly. Needless to say, I was devastated and could not imagine finding another such loving companion. I had rescued her as a 5-year-old.

A good friend found this beautiful saying and showed it to me.

You can shed tears because they are gone,
or you can smile because they lived.

You can close you eyes and pray they will come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all that they left for you.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see them,
or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember only that they are gone,
or you can cherish their memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind and feel empty,
or you can do what they would want...
​
SMILE, open your heart, love... and go on.
(Anonymous)

I certainly allowed myself time to grieve but this saying helped me pick up the phone and call a rescue that had listed a dog on Petfinder, Dixie. I am now in a trial adoption with a lovely English Coonhound/ Foxhound mix. She is very frightened now, but I am committed to working with her. Dixie's owner died in March 2020 and she had been in the shelter since then.

I keep this saying on my desk and certainly need to read it often to "get a grip" when I'm missing Daisy. I thought it's positive encouragement might help others.

​Editor's Note: Marilyn wrote a blog post about Daisy's thunderphobia several years ago. You can read it here.

Her given name was Elisabeth Spain, but in her hometown of Owensboro, Kentucky, she was known simply as Riley. A typical teenager in some ways, certainly. Unique in others, absolutely.

After enduring months of crippling pain, she was finally diagnosed with hypermobility (a condition where joints pop in and out of their sockets) and fibromyalgia (the result of having contracted the H1N1 virus) early in her freshman year of high school. Everyone predicted a future of impaired motor function and limited possibilities for her. But not Riley.

By the time she was a sophomore, she proved just how wrong they were. And just how much of a typical 16-year-old she could be. She was surrounded by caring friends, had a wonderful boyfriend, and drove her own car. Atypically, she worked after school at the Town Square Animal Hospital and Pet Resort. Why? Because animals were her passion.

One night in late November of 2011, as she was following some of her friends on Facebook, she did what she usually did. She clicked onto the page of the local kill shelter, glancing at the photos of the dogs, many with comments such as "cute" and "I’d love to take this one home" underneath them. Scrolling further, she was suddenly brought up short. Staring out at her with a long, sad face and long, droopy ears was an extremely thin Treeing Walker coonhound with no comments under his photo at all. His name was Jethro. 

And something deep inside Riley responded. She promptly burst into tears because, as she herself explained, “he looked so sad, and no one felt his sadness.” When she saw that he was scheduled to be euthanized in two days, her heart sank. She quickly printed out his picture and took the paper Jethro to bed with her. 

By the following afternoon, she had made up her mind. She told her mother that she wanted to save Jethro’s life. Her mother was stunned. They already owned two poodles. Why would her young daughter who loved two beautiful poodles suddenly want to save the life of an old, ugly and dying coonhound? But Riley was adamant. She could neither be swayed nor moved. This was what she wanted to -- needed to -- do. In the end, her mother grudgingly relented.

But her permission came with three rules. One. If they did get Jethro out in time, Riley would have take him to daycare at the animal hospital with her every day. Two. At home, he would have to stay in a crate. Three -- and the hardest for Riley to accept – she had one month to rehome him or he would be returned to the shelter. To the agitated teen, all this meant was a stay of execution, a temporary reprieve for this hapless dog. And she was determined to do better than that. But for the moment, there was no time to waste. And so she quickly agreed to her mother’s terms. 

They drove to the shelter, arriving exactly ten minutes before closing time. And those ten minutes literally saved Jethro’s life. They were taken back to the kennels and neither of them was prepared for what they saw. The coonhound was scarcely more than skin and bones and too weak to stand or walk. A tearful Riley ran to him, and the ailing dog had just enough strength to lift his head and lick her face. Riley immediately took this as a sign. She was doing the right thing. And Jethro knew it too. As her mother signed all the necessary papers, they were told that prior to his leaving the shelter, Jethro would have to be neutered. They were also warned that because of his age and poor health, it was doubtful that he would even survive the surgery. 

After worrying about him the entire next day, Riley and her mother drove up to the vet’s office just in time to see a dog catcher dragging Jethro away. Riley jumped out of the car, picked up the scrawny, half-sedated dog and held him like a baby while the shelter was contacted. When Jethro was finally released into her safekeeping, an elated Riley exclaimed, “As I clung to my beautiful, alive, and slightly smelly, first foster dog, I was the happiest girl ever!” 

At home, both toy poodles seemed to understand what was happening, and after a few curious sniffs at Jethro and a few half-hearted barks at Riley, the pair headed to her bedroom. Next to her own bed was a crate filled with warm, cozy blankets and a wonderful new dog bed. Just for Jethro.

That night, Riley kept a watchful eye over the sleeping dog she had rescued. “I believe and always will,” she later said, “that Jethro knew he was finally safe from harm. The look in his eyes that first night hasn’t changed in 2 years. It’s a look of pure happiness and relief.” 

But ever conscious of her mother’s third rule, she kept her word and started Googling various coonhound and senior dog rescue groups. “Hi,” she wrote again and again. “My name is Elisabeth Spain. I’m 16 and I’ve saved a coonhound from being put down in Daviess County, KY. His name is Jethro. He’s 10 years old and what a wonderful dog he is. He loves to play ball and chase. He’s microchipped, neutered and up-to-date on his shots. I would love to keep him, but my mother has given me a month to either rehome him or find a rescue for him. CAN YOU PLEASE HELP ME? Transportation is not a problem. Thank you for any help. Love, Elisabeth and Jethro.”

For every hopeful email she sent out, every answer she received was discouragingly the same. None of the organizations could take Jethro. They were simply too full. Undeterred, she cast her net wider until finally, her efforts were rewarded. Coonhound Companions replied that although they themselves couldn't take him, they would help her rehome Jethro within the month.

And they did. They located a suitable adopter in Spring, Texas and arranged for Jethro’s transportation there. With mixed emotions, Riley relinquished the dog she had only just gotten to know, convincing herself that it was best for Jethro and that she had kept her promise to her mother. But, in reality, it didn’t make letting him go any easier. Now all that remained of her own coonhound companion was his crate, his dog bed and her printed picture of him.

Within 24 hours of arriving at his new home, however, Jethro escaped through the fence and disappeared. Thanks to Facebook, people in the town were alerted to the situation, prompting them to put up posters everywhere and search the shelters. He was found 4 days later. It seems he had wandered into an open garage only blocks from his adoptive home and was taken in by the owner. At first the man had considered keeping him, but then changed his mind. He brought Jethro to the local shelter, where he was immediately recognized as the missing dog in the posters. Unfortunately, though, when Jethro was returned to his adoptive home, some family issues arose that jeopardized his safety, and Coonhound Companions quickly stepped in.

Riley, meanwhile, had spent the entire week without Jethro in utter misery. She realized how attached she had become to him and how desperately she missed him. When she heard that he couldn’t stay in his new home, she couldn’t have been happier or more relieved. What were the chances, she wondered, what were the chances. Acknowledging the depth of their daughter’s feelings for the dog she had rescued, her parents agreed that Jethro could return to Owensboro. He would stay with Riley’s father, who lived close enough for Riley to visit him. For Riley, it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a solution. Her beloved Jethro would be coming home!

But his homecoming would prove anything but simple. It was like a page torn from an old movie script – part comedy of errors, part Ripley’s Believe It or Not.  It began with Coonhound Companions arranging for Jethro to be surrendered to the Houston County Hearts Hound Rescue. While he was there, he underwent some much-needed dental surgery, paid by the Coonhound Companions "Long Ears Alive!" fund. Through Pilots ‘N Paws, he was flown to Little Rock, AK, where he was to be driven to Jonesboro for the night. Another pilot was to fly to Jonesboro from his home in Missouri to take Jethro to Kentucky Dam, where Riley and her father had agreed to meet them.

When the driver couldn’t make the trip to Little Rock, the original pilots flew Jethro on a circuitous route through several counties, picking up various bloodhound rescues along the way, until they finally reached Jonesboro. The next day, the plane in Missouri that had been reserved to fly to Jonesboro and pick up Jethro wasn't at the airstrip. The previous renter hadn’t returned it and no one knew where it was. 

When the plane eventually did show up, mechanical problems grounded it for days. Ultimately, the stranded pilot, sympathetic to the plight of the waiting dog and the anxious teenager, got in his car, and drove to Jonesboro himself. He picked up Jethro and drove all the way to Kentucky Dam, where the exhausted dog was reunited with an equally exhausted, but elated Riley. 

(While all of this had been happening to Jethro, young Riley had had a cancerous lesion 
removed from behind one ear.) 

Everything was forgotten though, when the “forever mommy” as Riley called herself wrapped her arms around her skinny, shaking hound and vowed to never let him out of her sight again. Rather than going home with her father, she returned to her mother’s house. And the slow but steady rehabilitation and revitilization of Jethro began. He gradually started putting on weight, pleasantly filling out his gaunt, long-legged frame.  He became Riley’s constant and adoring companion, one who lived to love and be loved. 

Riley soon discovered that the loyal and lovable Jethro also loved going for car rides and playing fetch. She learned how affectionate he was with other people and how good he was with other dogs. She found he loved to snuggle, to get his tummy rubbed and to watch TV with her. And each time she looked at him, she saw his gentle soul reflected in his eyes.
These were the best of times for the young girl and her dog, but punctuating them would also be the worst of times. 

Because, as the months passed, with each step forward, Jethro took another step back. He bounced physically from one health crisis to another (including the drainage of infected fatty tumors, irritable bowel disease and pancreatitis) and his doting, forever mom bounced emotionally with him. Every time the aging dog was hospitalized, the vet recommended that he be euthanized. But Riley wouldn’t agree and Jethro wouldn’t succumb. He rallied each time, just in time to get sick again. But neither girl nor dog gave up or gave in. United by bonds stronger even than love, they fought together and beat the odds together.

Tending to Jethro and seeing him improve under her care gave Riley an idea. Why couldn’t she look after other dogs the same way? At the animal hospital, she watched sick and injured animals coming and going all the time. And she knew that only one kind of animal interested her: the ill and unwanted. Like her beloved Jethro. With her mother’s permission, she became a foster for a local rescue called Saving Paws Animal Rescue of Kentucky (S.P.A.R.K.Y.). She fostered both puppies and kittens -- some for just a weekend, some for longer, and some for whom she herself found adoptive homes.

Then in the spring of 2012, she adopted (a decision she laughingly attributed to Jethro) a black coonhound/lab mix puppy. Her name was Lexi. She was part of a litter dropped on the side of the road and brought, sick and dehydrated, to S.P.A.R.K.Y. Riley and several other volunteers, together with a vet, nursed them all back to health. While the rest of the litter was adopted, Lexi remained the Riley and her family. And of course, Jethro, who couldn't have been happier.

“She’s brought out the puppy in this old man,” said Riley. “Since she’s been here, Jethro hasn't been in the hospital once. Its amazing! Lexi is also a blood donor at the animal hospital and Jethro encourages both of us all the way. He’s like our own little mascot.” 

When Riley decided to work at her cousin's veterinary clinic, faithful Jethro accompanied her there. Today, Jethro either cuddles with Riley in her bedroom or camps out in the backyard, depending on his mood. And the bond they share has only grown stronger with time. Riley is still the compassionate teenager who gave her heart to an ailing and aging dog. And Jethro is still the gentle survivor of a thousand scars who holds Riley’s young heart in his large, loving paws.

Article written by Nomi Berger. Nomi is the bestselling author of seven novels and one work of non-fiction. She lives in Toronto, Ontario, Canada with her first pet -- and the love of her life -- her adopted morkie, Shadow. Nomi now devotes all of her time volunteering her writing skills to animal rescue organizations both in Canada and the USA.

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….

By Anna Nirva

When I opened the daily list from the Milwaukee pound, it seemed like the words throbbed on the screen: Animal ID # 239152 M 7Y 0M Am. Foxhound. This was bad news. A senior hound, a seven-year-old male, in the pound. I clicked the link and saw this picture.

Well, he didn't look much like a foxhound, more likely a treeing Walker coonhound, but he was definitely a hound and the worry in his face was palpable. Big old dirty knobby legs. Missing hair on the throat. I didn't think I could pull off saving this old boy but I knew I couldn't turn away either.

I emailed my contact Kevin to request the temperament test. His grades were worrisome: no A's; 4 D's; at least there weren’t any F's. “Comments & Recommendations: Dog is very skittish and fearful. Needs socializing. Did so-so on eval -- 4 D's -- all due to his fear. Would recommend that dog, if placed, go to rescue only -- would not be a good adoption candidate -- due to him being so terrified outside of the kennel.” Not good. I went to bed uneasy.

When I awoke, I was still thinking about him. I found a link to a video posted by volunteers. He was coughing a lot. Oh great; he had kennel cough too. This was heartache in the making. I didn't care about wasting my time but I did care about my rescue-sore heart and making it worse.

I started emailing rescue contacts in the region even though I didn’t have much hope. Who would save an old, sick, fearful, under-socialized coonhound? He didn't have a chance, I thought, and I was filled with dread.

Then I got a reply that made my heart leap up and I almost started to cry. Amy at Bob's House for Dogs, a large professional foster organization in Western Wisconsin, offered to foster him. They love hounds. This was the chance I almost didn't dare to hope for. I only needed to find a shelter to pull him and nurse him through his kennel cough, and then he could go into foster care.

I heard from the Milwaukee pound's rescue coordinator Nancy. 239152 had a name, George, and volunteers were networking to get him into rescue too. They had taken videos of him daily for several days and believed that he could be socialized. The video demonstrated that, day-by-day, George became a bit more comfortable with the videographer. What I saw in that video was pathetic: this dog was so frightened that he could not even walk without creeping. This boy acted like he’d never been indoors before.

Another day passed and I heard from Gina at Chasing Daylight Animal Shelter in Tomah Wisconsin--they offered to pull him! When I read that, I really did start to cry. Old George would live! Now we just needed to figure out how to get him to Tomah, four hours from Milwaukee. Nancy, the rescue coordinator, worked that out with BRATS, Badger Rescue Animal Transport Service, a celebrated all-volunteer statewide network. Wonderful! I slept really well that night.

The next note I received was just two words from Gina at Chasing Daylight: "He's here." I didn't realize how tense I had been until I read those words. I turned into a noodle. I was almost singing. I made plans to go on Saturday. I couldn't wait to meet him.

He didn't want to meet me, though. I sat on the floor of his kennel for a good half hour, sweet-talking and tossing treats, before he finally worked up the courage to push through that flap and greet me. But he did overcome his worry. Within another half hour, he was sitting behind me patiently in a nearby room, accepting slow petting on his shoulders and soft stroking of his old flea-bit ears: I wouldn't call it trust yet, but he had relaxed. What a handsome boy!

Best of all, he had regained his health. His cough was completely gone. He was ready for his foster home so he could learn how to be a house-dog! Amy and Travis from Bob's House for Dogs picked him up three days after I took this photo. And his real training began.

George quickly claimed one of the Bob's House kennels as his. Clearly he liked having a "den." He was healthy and gaining confidence, but he was quite fearful of Travis and would quickly walk out of any room when Travis walked in.

He was neutered within the week. I drove up to Eau Claire to visit him. He was easy and relaxed with all of the dogs at Bob's House, hanging back a little bit at times. He watched everything going on around him intently. He seemed to feel a special affinity with Julius, another Treeing Walker Coonhound living there. They hung out together. Here he is standing next Sugar, a young Redbone, Julius, and a couple of other dogs.

George had some lessons to learn:

• House-training
• No marking territory (easier after he was neutered)
• Permitting touch everywhere on his body
• Trusting Travis and other male volunteers
• Leash-walking
• Understanding floors, couches, sinks, and other parts, smells and noises of a modern home
• Accepting affection and petting with ease

George was a fast learner and he learned how to be a house-dog quickly. Amy wrote me that he followed her "everywhere!" after she started giving him face and body massages. Within a month a visiting family fell in love with his quiet sweet ways and took him home, where he is today. Here he is in his new home, chewing a rawhide:

Seeing his joyful abandon with his rawhide really warms my heart! I like to imagine him snoozing comfortably on his brand-new fleecy-top bed.

George was extremely frightened when he found himself at the pound but within two months he had been fully socialized by Bob's House and Chasing Daylight volunteers. He found his loving family and the comforts of home and he will enjoy his sunset years being appreciated for the sweet shy boy he is.

This just reaffirms my belief that an under-socialized senior dog, probably a hunter and an outdoor dog, can be socialized, can learn house rules, and can learn to love human companionship.