Hello Goodbye

Bessie wasn’t with us long—nine days, to be exact. She was my first hospice case with CAPE (Center for Animal Protection and Education), a wonderful rescue group that saves dogs and various creatures others have written off. She looked like a rat terrier with a little Sudanese famine victim mixed in. I thought Candi, the last foster was underweight, but she had nothing on this one. Skin and bones, that was Bessie.

Candi Finds a New Home

Our elderly Chihuahua foster that hovered near death from starvation made a remarkable comeback in the three months she was with us. Candi once gained a little over a pound, which moved her status from emaciated to a-little-too-slender. Her eyes became clearer, her walk steadier and her poops healthier (yeah, we’re as bad as new moms, convinced everyone will find the analysis of our toddler’s bowel movements as fascinating as we do.)
Gimme some tongue!


The sweet girl needed a more appropriate foster environment. Candi took an enormous amount of time and energy to monitor, feed, medicate, clean up after and worry over. It was an ego-puncture, admitting that I could not keep it up indefinitely. After I hung my Superwoman cape up in the closet, I called the rescue group’s foster coordinator and told her the situation. Within a few days, Candi moved in with her new foster mom, a nice woman who did not have to split her attention among 5 or 6 other dogs all day.

For one whole day, I got to enjoy an office that did not reek of Candi pee. Although the floors were covered in large pads, Candi never quite got the aim down. Then I got an email about a dog needing hospice care. But, that is another story for another time.

Dog "O' the Day - Chance

Chance made me a better person. People often say that about their own dog, but Chance is a neighbor. You know those blind spots you have about your personality? I had a couple. I would stick my nose where it didn’t belong and then fly into a rage when that business was not conducted as it should be. These two dysfunctional missiles tended to intersect and explode whenever dogs were concerned.

  Chance on the left, O.G. on the right.