i have a standard poodle I waited 30 yrs for. I wanted a dog all my adult life, and finally got Agadore in 2003. He's the cat's meow.
My second pup is a rescued pitbull. I work at a sheriff's department, and we arrest a certain guy on a regular basis. The last time we dealt with him, friends noticied a starved pup on a chain with no water,food or shelter. The friends conviced the con to relinquish the dog. He was about 7 months old, and weighed in a whopping 21 lbs. The vet said he was days from dying. He had used up all his reserves, his muscle, and may have started burning organ tissue. The vet said he was too sick and too underweight to give any shots. She said take him home and feed him, and don't be suprised if he dies after he starts to eat...his body may be too far gone to process the food. Well, in a week,he gained 8 lbs, and now weighs in at about 50. He's been neutered, and has the great pittie disposition with people. I can't believe after what he's been through, he still can love people. But he does. And I know that for the rest of my life, anytime I get a dog, it will be a rescue.

Dr. Patty, I'm a long time reader, first time poster, and future vet student...
I have a new arrival story to share.
I was on my way to work one day when I saw a medium size dog being hit by a car in the other lane--a car, I might add, which did not stop. She was in the road flailing around and I could tell that her back legs did not work. I'm cheering her on from my car and slowing down to make sure she can get up, whispering, "Come on, dog, you can do it! Come on!" I had to go up do a u-turn around a median to get back to her, but I had to help her before she got creamed by another car. By the time I got back to her, she had pulled herself out of the road and was sitting on the shoulder panting with pain and relief and fear. Now I don't know this dog and I don't know how to approach her and she's obviously broken now and while I'm deciding what to do, this girl comes running out of the house across the street. I yell to her, "Is this your dog?" And she says back to me, "No, but I'm coming to help you!" She has a blanket in her arms and scoops the dog up and jumps in the car. I've never seen this girl before in my life, and her husband gave her crap about jumping into the car with a stranger--broken dog or not! But we were on our way to the vet's office.
Anyway, to make a longer story short, the dog was a stray and had a broken pelvis. We decided to keep her, so we did all the shots and flea meds and all that good stuff, and we put her in the car and took her home. We couldn't afford the surgery to correct her broken pelvis, so we opted for the "let it heal and we'll see what happens" approach, with the worst case scenario being making her a tripod at a later date. We crated her and hand fed her until she could walk on her own. This meant sleeping on the couch and gingerly carrying her little helpless body outside when she had to go (at all hours of the night), and washing the blankets we used to line her crate a couple times a day--my washer and dryer never stopped running for 6 weeks! But that was two years ago, and our little Gracie (hound mix) has fit quite well into our family with our other dog and two cats. And you can bet that we love the hell out of that little dog.
Thanks for your blog, Dr. Patty!

My most recent acquisition was an abandoned kitty. One day, my husband and I decided to stop off at the bookstore on the way home. By accident, we got off at the wrong exit and, now being proximate to the local PetCo, I figured we might as well stop in and stock up on food and litter for our ferrets. While there, my husband noticed a little black and white cat in a carrier on the floor. He asked and was told that someone had dropped it off at PetCo's door in a cardboard box (at below freezing temperatures, no less) that morning and drove off. Well, my husband's a sucker for a sob story, so we bought a whole slew of cat related items and took her home. I figured we'd be in for some massive medical or behavioral problems, because I couldn't imagine another reason for abadoning a perfectly nice seeming young animal. Well there were none. Meryl has turned out to be the best cat I've ever had. Sweet, affectionate, playful and tolerant of our other animals. Her previous owners have no idea what they're missing.

I have three cats, all rescues.

Rielly is a DSH brown tabby, who is the biggest moron you have ever met. He's just a big lug, and built like a bull dog. He came from the SPCA at 8 months old, he had been found wondering a highway in the next city.

Laenah is a DHS dilute tortie girl who was found behind a Thai restaurant, she was barely 4lbs when we got her and as mangey as anything. My boyfriend picked her up and she put her paws around his neck in a hug and that was that.

Kayda is a DMH brown tabby with white/main coon mix and she was found frozen to the road at 8 weeks in the middle of a Canadian February. She lost the tips of her ears to frostbite and almost didn't make it more times and I can count, but she's a happy, healthy 1 and a 1/2 year old now.

And there are the endless string of foster cats and kittens. My little babies, my mom adopted one of my foster kittens and he's off to be neutered tomorrow. With Elliot luck! ;)

I have one more. It came to me as my black and white furball named Oreo started purring in my ear when I went to bed last night.

Oreo was 2 when we adopted him from a local cat shelter.

He smelled like he had been living in a flithy barn for about 6 months. It was so bad that when he walked by us his smell remained even though he was out of sight, so his first day home landed him in the tub as we didn't want his stench on everything he came in contact with.

A trip to the vet less than 24 hours later let us know that he was loaded with tape worms, fleas and a bacterial infection on his head. The good points from that visit was that he was neutered and was a easy patient to treat and deal with.

He was given meds to get rid of the worms and we used a flea product to kill any fleas that he had. The bacterial infection wasn't so easy to cure though. Initally Oreo lost a spot of fur on the top of his head, about the size of a dime, which was treated with some kind of topical medication that had steriods in it.

A week later, the bald spot grew to the size of a small teacup, but the fur that he lost originally was growing back in so he was left with a perfect bullseye between his ears. Ugh! I called the vet to find out what was going on as my cat was developing this bizarre, receeding hairline that he nor us were taking kindly to.

After another vet visit is was figured that Oreo was having a reaction to the cream I was putting on his head, so he got to have his head washed with a Iodine based shampoo once a day until the infection cleared and his fur started growing back in.

It took a few more weeks before all the fur grew back on Oreo's head, but he hasn't been bald since. We have also avoided any further issues with fleas and tapeworms.

While I liked the vet that treated Oreo, I didn't really trust him after our second visit. He seemed more interested in telling us that Oreo had the "biggest feet in town" as he has double paws on both front paws than dealing with the issues on hand, or head as the case was at that time.

Fortunately for us, we moved from that town shortly after the balding cat issue which lead me to the vet I have now. She too has a sense of humor but when there is a problem, she focuses on the problem first, then makes fun of my pets. I don't mind as all visits start with them getting a kiss on the top of the head and one for good measure when they leave her clinic.

Between Angel and Oreo, I've been very selective to which shelter or rescue league I'll adopt from. In the past month I've contacted 3, two of which I have written off and will never recommend as they didn't know what they were talking about.

The first one was Greyhound rescue that didn't know if any of their dogs were cat safe or not. Their solution for that was "Try it and see what happens." The other was an all animal rescue that couldn't tell me if they tested their dogs for Lymes Disease or not.

Lymes Disease is a huge issue up my way and their staff has no idea whether they test for it or not? Odds are I was dealing with uneducated volunteers, but whether a person is being paid or not, they should be aware if their animals are cat safe or if they've been tested for a disease that is running rampant here in the North East.

I'm all for pet adoption, but some of these people that claim to be "in the know" in every aspect of animal rescue and adopting don't really has as much of a clue as they claim. Apparently they too live by the saying of "Try it and see what happens!"

When Katrina animals were being shipped to our area, my husband and I knew we had to make room for another pet. We knew this would be more expensive than any donation we could afford, but it was something that had to be done. We went to the local no-kill shelter, the week before they had to commit to a number of animals they would have room to take in from the southern shelters, and we asked to see the cats they had kept in the shelter the longest.

We met Tom. He had been a feral, and his ears were feathered from fighting and one tip missing from being in the managed colony. One of his eyes was obviously bad. One of his back legs was broken and it stuck out at an awkward angle. He was unnaturally quiet and sat in the open cat room, not demanding anything from anyone, and the other cats left him alone. He'd been there about 8 months and was about 5 to 8 years old. He was definitely not the usual adoptable cat.

He came home with us and learned to cope with our dog and the other cats. He will now consent to the occasional cuddle from Spider who is remarkably affectionate. He will actually Mew in a clear voice when there is raw meat or treats to be had. He learned Spider's trick- to stand on hind legs and beg, just by watching her. And his purr is still very soft, but he is much more generous with it now.

Tom with Sassy fat cat http://runningscared.org/files/jazz-usualsuspects....

Accident, Domino, Lil' Bit, Smokey, Pepe, & Allie were all feral kittens found between the ages of 4-10 weeks. I never found homes for them, but by that time they had become "mine". I'm not sure there's a cat out there to which I couldn't attach!

Until recently I was a vet assistant at an emergency clinic.

My story's name is Pippin. He was a very skinny, malnourished 4 month old kitten who'd been HBC-fractured pelvis, dislocated hip. Owner says "Sure, do whatever you've got to! I've just got to go get some money, be right back!" We gave some Torb, did some x-rays....and waited. The next day, he still wasn't back. His wife, however, called to check on Pippin-and said she hadn't seen her husband since he left to bring Pippin in. Pippin couldn't walk, and was surely in pain...but he had the biggest purr I'd ever heard, and I just loved him.
Over the next few days I'd take him out of his cage and help him stand, and he finally started walking on his own.
On day ten (the end of the standard waiting period) I tested him for FeLeuk and took him home.

Now he's a 15 pound boy going on three years old. (We're battling his extra couple of pounds.) Aside from my constant fear of his developing arthritis, he's a healthy boy.

Here's his Catster page if you care to see him :) (Yep, I'm a geek. I admit it.)
www.catster.com/cats/246087

My German Shepherd, Amber, is a rescue. She would fail in nearly any home from the time we got her to now. She would still fail in most homes. We got her from a lady who got a cute little puppy and tied it up in the yard until it was 8 months old, then she decided she didn't have the time to train it. When we got her she was a wreck. Her coat was awful (we actually thought she was a huskyX until she shed out the winter coat), she had no manners, zero training, no socialization, and was overly mouthy. It was three months before you could sit and pet her without her running away from you. She didn't understand this 'petting' concept. It was a very rough first six months. GSDs are already prone to being nevous and high-stung, the complete lack of any attempt at socialization only made it worse.

Now, two years later, she's well-trained and fairly-well socialized, though random things still freak her out (orange construction fences most recently). She would still fail in most homes because she's a dog with working level drive and stamina. I love her to death, but...She also grumbles anytime you pet her sides or belly...it scares people who don't know her and makes vet exams hard, but for some incomprehensible reason, it's her 'happy' noise.

All in all she's a sensitive, anxious, high-drive, high-strung, ball-obsessed, high energy, inexhaustable (10 mile run? No problem, she wants to keep going), stamina to spare, very vocal GSD with a touch of seperation anxiety. Fun. At least she gets along with our other dogs.

I have always been in the cheering section for the underdog. Most of my pets have been "rejects" of some sort. I currently have Sadie and Gracie, two hip-dysplastic Labs, and Lucy, my amputee
"tripod" kitty.

There have also been abandoned guinea pigs Ambrose and Amanda; Gertie, a Dutch rabbit I found cowering under some shrubs in the yard, and Pretty Boy (who incidentally turned out to be a girl) the parakeet I found shivering in the yard in a Pennsylvania April thunderstorm.

Then there was Omar the Afghan whom I bought from his abusive druggie owner for $100 just to stop the abuse I saw him inflicting on the poor dog--he weighed only 35 pounds and was infested with hooks and whips. And Tessa, the Elkhound who my ex-husband saw being led to the woods by a rope around her neck by a man carrying a rifle (she was going to be shot because she "sheds too much"). And many more, dating all the way back to childhood.

Every one of these animals has brought me so much joy, and lived with me until the end of their natural lives; and I have no doubt that there will always be yet another needy pet in my future.

When I got my Standard Poodle, Roxie, her prior owner was free-feeding her (and the five other dogs in the house) some sort of crappy Wal-Mart kibble. And still-frozen breaded chicken nuggets, among other things. *shudder*.

To forestall the PetCo people from assuming that her matted, flea-ridden, under-nourished, completely untrained (at a year old!) condition was my fault, I was very clear in the week or two before I got the dog that I was rescuing a neglected Poodle and that I was planning to right all the wrongs. Of course, at the time I didn't know how many wrongs needed to be righted (I didn't know she was so skinny!) but I made very sure to be pre-emptive with the PetCo people.

When they finally got to see Roxie in person, their reactions were uniformly sympathetic.

I dunno sometimes.

Interestingly enough, during her final bout of gastroenteritis Roxie had uncontrollable diahhrea and dirtied her crate something fierce. It wasn't until after she pooped all over her crate that she finally figured out that it was an ok place to be!

And I know she's getting better after the gastroenteritis and the kennel cough that followed because she just demanded a half hour of playtime (roughly an hour and a half after her last meal, and two hours after we braved the below zero temps so she could go outside, where she spent 10 minutes racing around off leash), something she hasn't done since the week I got her. Yay! We spent some time revewing basic obedience (always fun, but she hasn't been well enough to learn or be interested in learning in a while) and started learning 'down' and then we played fetch and then she gnawed on her favorite toy -- a stuffed tiger, and now she's napping. And she did all that without coughing!

When this frigid weather breaks I think she'll be well enough to go back to the dog park and play.


Whitewater

I don't remember all the first home coming of all my animals, but I do remember my Terrier's, German Shepard's, and Pepper's.

Taz ( Jack Russell) was purchased from a local breeder. At the young age of 8 weeks, he sat and pouted under the kitchen table for 3 weeks after I brought him home. The only time he wasn't under the table was when I brought him out to go potty, to eat and when it was bed time which landed him in his crate.

Angel ( German Shepard) has really ugly past. She is what the local Greyhound Rescue refers to as a "broken dog". She was physically abused by 3 different owners so needless to say, she had some serious mental barriers to break through even though we had nothing but the best intentions for her. A woman a Pet Co had the nerve to tell me "Why don't you try feeding your dog! She's grossly underweight!"

I agree that a an adult German Shepard that weighs only 50 pounds is underweight for her body structure, but that wasn't my fault. Her third owner was feeding her and their 3 other dogs ( a Pit Bull, Lab Cross and a Rotti) pizza crusts, hot dogs and chicken bones because she couldn't afford dog food.

I snarled at the obnoxius Pet Co lady that I just rescued her, then told her to shut her pie hole as I can't magically fix my new "broken dog" in 24 hours.

When we first brought Angel home, I didn't have our large dog crate set up so she would try to force herself under the couch to hide. 3 days of that lead to us trying her with a crate just to see what she would do. Luck would have it that she took the crate like a fish to water and her crate has been her safe haven for the past 6 years.

We only close her in when we leave the house, but she has run of the house and the freedom to come and go as she pleases when we are home. Most of the time she prefers to lounge in her crate, but will come out for attention or to stand between me and Taz should I have to speak to him about something he has done.

I made the mistake once of trying to take her crate away. I'll never do that again as she resorted to trying to cram herself into Taz's crate while he was in it. Yes he's a terrier can be a pain in the butt, but I don't need to explain why he ended up being squashed like a pancake by a dog that outweighs him by over 60 pounds either.

The other home coming burned to memory is when I brought one of my blue front amazons home.

We had to rent a Home Depot truck in order to get his cage to the house. We packed Pepper in a cat carrier, loaded up his cage and made a mad dash to the house to get the truck back in time. Pepper thought the whole adventure was humorous as he laughed home. I thought it was funny, hubby on the other hand didn't see the humor in our newly acquired hysterical pet. LOL He still groans at me today when he talk about when Pepper became a resident of the house.

Congrats on Vincent by the way. Looking forward to hearing more about him after he gets through the honeymoon stage.