The Sunday news shows breathlessly discussed the arrival of Bo, the Obama's pending Portuguese Water Dog. Bo is a gift from the Lion of the Senate himself, Teddy Kennedy.
I have to say. I really wish the Obamas had selected a shelter dog. I see the buzz around Michelle Obama's White House garden, and the flurry of gardening activities it has engendered among average citizens. I think, generally, it's a great thing that so many people want to emulate the Obamas - it shows that people look to them as role models, and I do believe that they - and particularly Michelle - understand the responsibility that goes along with that.
Imagine the flurry of activity that would have arisen around finding and procuring a shelter dog, then. Much more over the fold.
Update [2009-4-13 15:10:19 by RenaRF]: OK LOOK. I was unaware that, apparently, there have been umpteen diaries criticizing the Obamas with respect to Bo. That is NOT what this diary is about. The reason why I "wish" they had gotten a shelter animals is because of the awareness it would have raised around the issues with rescue organizations these days. Ultimately, there were only two goals here: to encourage people to consider a shelter animal when deciding to get a new animal; and to get some donations to very worthy local rescue organizations. That's it. Period. No "BAD OBAMA" or anything like that. Sheesh.
Update [2009-4-13 13:28:26 by RenaRF]: Please let me underscore - I really do understand why the Obamas adopted a dog that fits their family and their family's needs. My goal, then, is to use this to give a little visibility to what is a terrible plight these days. In a struggling economy, "the least among us" seem to be most readily forgotten. My only point is to try to shine a light on this particular issue.
I want to say up-front that I understand why they chose a pure bred dog over a shelter dog. They have allergy issues, and that's not something to be taken lightly. But bear with me, please, and read on. Because I'd like the story of Bo Obama, inasmuch as it can, to highlight a desperate need and dire circumstances that exist in this country today. To set the stage, I have share a bit of a personal story, though.
In April of 1990 - 19 years ago - I was coming home from my job at that time. I was a bartender, and in my senior year of college. This necessarily meant that I got home late (or early, depending on your point of view). So it was about 3am on a very early, unseasonably cold morning that I parked my car in front of the townhouse where I rented the basement. As I walked towards the door, I heard a small but insistent meow. I poked around in the shrubbery and saw a tiny, wet (it was raining), cold black and white ball of fur. He seemed to be crying for me. I wasn't allowed pets in the townhouse - my landlady already had one cat and was rightfully concerned about introducing additional pets. But there was no way I was leaving that little guy out there when he so plaintively caught my attention.
I scooped him up and stuffed him in my jacket. He immediately stilled and quieted. I let myself into the house, filched a can of cat food off of my landlady, and headed to my basement "apartment". I took a towel and dried him as best as I could and then opened the can of food and put it down for him. He dug into that food like he couldn't remember his last meal. He was so hungry. He finished off the entire can, and toweled him dry a little more. I put him on the bed with me in a small box, which he promptly climbed out of. He came right up to me where my head lay on the pillow, looked at me, and then curled up on top of my shoulder and next to my neck and went to sleep.
Thus began the chapter of my life that included Grady.
The next day, I called my parents and told them that I had found a kitten that I wasn't going to give up. I made a vet's appointment to get his shots - the vet said he was about six weeks old, putting his birth date at about March 1, 1990. After the appointment, Grady went to my parents' house where he would stay for about two months while I made arrangements to move to a place that allowed pets. It also began my unique love affair with Grady, my special heart kitty.
In the years to come, Grady would see boyfriends come and go. He was with me for every single major life event that I experienced, good or bad, that had import and impact. When I cried myself to sleep after the end of a relationship, Grady was there to snuggle next to me and provide support and comfort. When I graduated college, Grady was there for the celebration. When I started dating the man who would become my husband, Grady was there - typically wedging himself
in between myself and Mr. RenaRF so that Mr. RenaRF understood - truly - who came first. Grady moved with me from an apartment to a townhouse to a second townhouse and finally to the home I live in now. Grady gracefully accepted my rescue work with the Humane Society of Northern Virginia, where I gave foster care to feral kittens and then set about finding them their own families. Grady serenely accepted the permanent presence of Baby Girl, the only feral kitten of seven litters for whom I didn't find a permanent home. Grady knew that he held a special, irreplaceable place in my heart and didn't feel threatened by the Baby Girl.
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In October of 2007, at 17 1/2 years of age, Grady walked down the stairs to our living room, meowed at me, and fell down. I scooped him into the kitty carrier and immediately set out for an excellent specialty and emergency care facility about 20 minutes from my home. They immediately admitted him - and after an agonizing hour-long wait, the ER vet on duty called us back to talk to him.
"He has CRF", he said. "Chronic Renal Failure. It happens in older cats - their kidneys just stop performing correctly."
I burst into tears. The vet, though - God bless him - explained to me that while it was incurable, it could be treated and that Grady was in the very early stages. They admitted Grady for two full days of IV fluids. When I got home that night, I set about learning what I could about CRF and how to treat it. I found a very helpful web site that explained the disease and so much more. I also found a Yahoo group with about 3000 members focused around feline CRF where a cat's person or people could learn, ask questions, discuss, and help their CRF kitty. It was a Godsend, let me tell you.
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Grady went on a special prescription kidney diet. He had to have his blood drawn at 90-day intervals to check his kidney values. When the time was right, Grady went on sub-cutaneous fluids, administered at home by inserting a fine needle just under the skin and providing a "pocket" of Lactated Ringer's solution. This helped keep his kidney values as low as possible, which in turn helped keep him feeling pretty darned good. He didn't love the fluids - but he tolerated them well enough that I knew I wasn't compromising his quality of life, which was always at the forefront of my mind.
For 17 months, I treated Grady and he just kept on being Grady. I've never cared for a chronically ill person - so I can't compare situations - but I spent almost a year and a half of my life caring for a chronically ill kitty, my best friend. It was worth every ounce of the change I had to introduce into my life, because out of those 17 months, Grady had maybe 10 "bad" days where he clearly didn't feel well.
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Two of those days came in February of this year. I knew something was off. Grady's weight was troublesome - older kitties lose weight, to be sure - and CRF kitties in particular have problems with weight maintenance. But it seemed to me that he had lost too much too quickly. He had a regular vet visit to draw blood, and then had a crisis over the weekend of Valentine's Day. I took him to the critical care ER on Sunday the 15th. They admitted him, and wanted to keep him for two days and perform an abdominal ultrasound to see if there was anything concerning that we didn't know about.
On Tuesday, February 17, I came to pick Grady up. The vet told me that the ultrasound had found a tumor in one of Grady's kidneys. It couldn't be treated. Surgery - which he wouldn't have survived - wasn't an option because he didn't have enough kidney function left in one kidney to remove the other. And chemo wasn't an option because of Grady's age as well as the type of tumor. Grady was 12 days shy of his 19th birthday.
The vet did tell me the Grady wasn't in any pain. She suggested that I take him home and hold fast to my quality-of-life list and see how he did. She said, though, that if he had months, it wasn't a lot of months.
Grady did great at home for almost five weeks. On March 20, though, he was visibly weak. The next day, he was weaker and wasn't eating as much. By Sunday the 22nd, we knew that we were spending our last time with Grady. He still wasn't in pain, and we took him outside to lay in the sun on a God-given warm Sunday in March. He loved that. By Monday morning, the 23rd, we knew Grady was leaving. We called the at home vet to visit at 2:00 on Monday.
Grady passed peacefully in my lap while I petted him and told him what a great friend and love he had been to me for 19 years, 3 weeks and 2 days.
With that, my heart broke. And I started the phase of my life which will forever be known as "After Grady".
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Now to the point of my diary. Grady had a lot of specialty foods, drugs, prescriptions etc. that were unused after his passing. I couldn't think of a better way to honor his most excellent life than donating those supplies to local rescue organizations. I am particularly familiar with one wonderful local rescue organization, the Lost Dog & Cat Rescue Foundation. They rescue cats, dogs, kittens and puppies from all over the area. Many of their rescues come from high kill shelters. They literally save these animals' lives, put them into foster care, see to their medical and emotional needs, and try to find them a loving home.
I went to one of their adoption events completely by accident four weeks ago and got talking with one of their coordinators. As I'm sure you can guess, it's not only people who are losing out in this economic climate. It's animals, too. This is how I was introduced to Rusty & Reddy:
These two beautiful brothers are 7 years old. They've lived their entire lives together. Their people have fallen on hard financial times and are losing their home. They're moving in with family members, and couldn't bring Rusty & Reddy. I talked with the coordinators who picked Rusty & Reddy up after their people made that painful call - they both said that it was one of the saddest things they've ever had to do. Rusty and Reddy were dearly loved and it broke their people's hearts to have to give them up. Rusty & Reddy are beautiful boys with a lot of personality. The problem is, they're older. AND they really do have to be adopted together. This makes it a particular challenge.
Imagine if you were taken from the only home you'd ever known and the only people you'd ever loved and were thrown into a situation that you didn't understand that was supremely scary. My heart aches for these two beautiful boys.
Yesterday, I was at an adoption event donating Grady's prescription items (they were SUPREMELY grateful to receive these items - you can imagine that they are hard-hit with dwindling donations along with the rest of the economy). That's how I learned about Luna, a beautiful Maine Coon kitty.
Luna's story literally made me ill. Luna is 12 years old. She had lived with her people since the age of 4 weeks. They (her people) decided to have a baby, and with that decision decided as well that they just didn't have time for Luna in their lives. So at 12 years old - when Luna should be enjoying all the love and affection earned by a full lifetime of love and affection given - they gave her up to rescue. The rescue folks are assiduously careful not to pass value judgments on people who give up their kitties under what I would consider "questionable" circumstances. I, however, said only one thing:
"Good luck to that baby."
I also met David. David is an 11 year old boy - certainly considered a senior. They had him walking around on a leash, and he came up to everyone who would pay him any attention. I bent down to pet him and he simply regarded me serenely. I can't know what David was thinking - but the look he gave me said "Surely I deserve better than this." And he does. David had to be given up when his person got sick and couldn't afford to care for David
and care for themselves.
If you want to see for yourself how bad it is, you can go to Petfinder. Enter the kind of animal that interests you and your zip code - and be sure you select either "senior" or "adult" from the pull-down search menu. You're probably going to be appalled at how many fully grown and elderly animals are finding themselves in rescue organizations.
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This is why I really would have loved to have seen the Obamas make a point of adopting a shelter dog. Shelters always need help and loving homes - but these days, even more so. These guys do the selfless, hard work of loving these animals who have been cast aside due to either circumstance, ignorance or indifference and doggedly seek to find them what they shouldn't have to beg for - love and security.
The boost of bringing visibility to the exploding shelter population would have been really, really great. Most people don't know about all of these older cats and dogs who so desperately need a loving home.
So I'm trying to make up for that lack of visibility by writing Grady's story and the story of just three of the thousands of cats and dogs in foster care in the DC area. Awareness is half the battle.
I urge you to use the Petfinder site just to get a flavor for how many cats and dogs are homeless and awaiting a loving family in your area. Even if you aren't in a position to adopt yourself (as I am not - I still have a full cat house), you will see which organizations are doing the good work of rescue in your community. Believe me - they would value even a $5.00 donation - they're so strapped for resources. You can make it in the name of or memory of an animal you love. Or, if you want to grant me a small kindness, you could make it in loving memory of Grady, the cat who taught me more about kindness and compassion than anyone else in my life.
Thanks for reading.
This is dedicated to my sweet Grady, now an angel (3/1/1990 - 3/23/2009).