Double-Dog-Dare

The couch brothers, Dino and Roy (Mike Barzacchini photo).

The latest Vocal challenge I completed involved writing a poem about my place of comfort. Not surprisingly, my entry revolved around dogs, in particular Roy and Dino. There is nothing quite as relaxing as sitting on the couch after a long day of work between each of these snoring boys. Their sleep generates positive, relaxing vibes. You can read the poem and my story behind it on Vocal.

What places or experiences bring you comfort, happiness, and joy?

The Ballad of Chris, the Dog

Chris the dog, aka Romeo (Mike Barzacchini photo)

I wrote about the adventures of Chris, the dog who adopted us, and published the story on Vocal as part its 24/7 Companion contest. You can read the story of his amorous excursions on Vocal.

Thinking About the Old Yellow Dog

Thinking about Izzy today, our sweet, old yellow dog. She wags and nuzzles in my memories asking from one more scratch behind the ears.

Goodnight, old yellow dog. See you in my dreams.

Dog Stories: Happy Roy Day

Today is not only #mayday, it’s Roy Day. It’s the day Roy came into our lives just a few days after having his leg amputated and then being flown in from Tennessee. We thought we’d just be fostering Roy, but he decided he’d keep us. It’s been a year full of learning and love. You can read more about the continuing adventures of Roy at the link below in the comments. Thanks to #tiptoncountyanimalshelter @hoofwoofmeow and #4pawsactivitycenter for being a part of this amazing year with Roy. And thank you most to Susan for being my foster and rescue partner.

Read the latest installment of Roy’s story.

Dog Stories: Remembering the Yellow Dog

Izzy was our sweet yellow dog. She’s been gone nearly 10 years, but sometimes it feels like she’s by my side still. Here’s what I remember and treasure about Izzy:

• Izzy was our first rescue dog. She was found at the pound in Cincinnati by Susan and Jonathan.

• They found her on the “private side” of the pound, a place for dogs that weren’t technically up for adoption. Why was she there? Because the staff loved her so much. They wanted to keep her around.

• While in the pound, she had puppies. I’ve often wondered what they looked like. All were adopted out before we adopted Izzy.

• We called Izzy our Labrador Non-Retriever. She would not fetch, even if you wrapped bacon around the ball. If you gave her a chew toy or bone, instead of playing with it, she’d bury it in the backyard and immediately forget where she buried it.

• When we adopted Izzy, she a year or two old. She joined Lydia, our Bichon Frise. Izzy recognized Lydia as her elder, almost treating her like a mom. She became Lydia’s “follower,” which led her on some interesting adventures.

• For a time after Lydia died, Izzy was an “only dog.” Then we brought Daisy, another Bichon, into our home. Now the roles were reversed with Daisy bonding to Izzy as her mother figure. I think Izzy may have felt this was doggy deja vu.

• Izzy never ran away. She did walk away a couple of times but always came back.

• Izzy liked to bask in the sun, especially as she got older. We used to speculate that the warm sun felt good on her bones.

• When Izzy was happy, she would roll on her back and yowl.

• She was a big dog who liked small spaces and could sometimes be found sleeping under the buffet table or in a laundry basket.

• Scared by the sound of thunder, Izzy would seek shelter in the bathtub.

• Izzy likely saved our lives when a stranger entered our gate and approached our backdoor late one night. A quiet, gentle dog, she possessed a fierce bark and protective nature when she felt her pack was threatened.

• She was my favorite moon-watching companion. Sometimes when I go out at night now, I wonder if she’s watching me watch the moon.

• I’ve written dozens of yellow dog poems about Izzy. I hope to collect and publish them one day.

I miss Izzy, our old yellow dog.

Dog Stories: Happy Adoption Anniversary, Dino

In March 2015, we welcomed Dino into our home. Immediately, he was a great younger brother to Daisy, helping her through her anxiety experienced from the time she was the only dog in our home after Izzy our yellow lab died. He’s been a great older brother to Lucy. And he’s been tolerant of our other fosterrs and adoptions since, Though I think Roy has at times tried his patience. On the flip side, LuLu has been easy on Dino, as she has on everyone in the house.

Before we adopted Dino, I planned on starting a one-year quest to find the “perfect dog.” That one year took one month. And that perfect dog, Dino, was found as a stray in rural Indiana. He was taken in by a foster family in Winfield, Illinois. That’s where we met the boy and fell in love with him.

I tell people that Dino is my spirit animal. He has many qualities I aspire to have. He’s steady, strong, loyal, accepting, and he loves his pack. Of course, Dino, like all of us, has his less than charming qualities that I don’t want to imitate. For example, I don’t think I could ever bark at the window at passing squirrels and deer as much as he does. It’s a reminder that we’re all still a work in progress.

This week, Dino has patiently stuck by my side as I recover from a nagging illness. The weather has warmed and I’ve not been up to anything more than shorter walks with him. But I’m feeling better every day and Dino has remained patient.

Along with those walks, Dino has an adoption anniversary cake in his future. Treats may be Dino’s favorite thing next to barking at squirrels. Happy anniversary to my spirit animal.

Dog Stories: LuLu Is

LuLu is our most recent rescue. She’s the latest addition to our little pack.
LuLu is our little heart patient. She came to us with a prognosis as short as six-months left to live.

It’s been eight months and LuLu is alive.

LuLu was Lucie. When we adopted her, we already had a Lucy. So, Lucie became LuLu. You know what, she never missed a beat. She responds to LuLu like it’s always been her name. I think she may have always been a LuLu at heart.

LuLu is a Shih Tzu. I never imagined I’d be a Shih Tzu daddy. Now I can’t imagine life without her.

LuLu is loved.

Dog Stories: The Ballad of Dino, the Runaround Dog

We adopted Dino, our standard poodle mix rescue, in March 2015. Gentle and loving, I remember the one disclaimer his foster mom shared before we took him home.

“He did wander off once. We found him walking down the sidewalk. It didn’t seem like he was running away. More like he was just going out for a walk.”

In our first few weeks with Dino, we experienced this runaround nature first hand. He bolted from the backseat of our car after a trip to town. He once ran past my father-in-law and out the front door prompting a family search of our neighborhood. When our son Jonathan was home from college, Dino also got away. That time, Jonathan coaxed him into the backseat of a neighbor’s car. Perhaps the only thing Dino likes better than a walkabout is a car ride. Then there was the time Dino took an unplanned off-leash adventure with me in pursuit.

It was early April and spring weather was finally making an appearance in Northern Illinois. I’d craved a long walk with Dino for weeks. He needed the activity and I needed the exercise. It was Sunday morning. No work or chores to get in the way. Let’s go.

I woke early and slipped the dogs out of the bedroom without disturbing Susan. My plan was to feed both, take Daisy, our bichon, out for a quick squirt, then go on my long jaunt with Dino. 

Daisy changed my plans with her mournful gaze. “Take me too, Dad,” she seemed to say. I could never resist her big eyes. So, I hooked up both dogs and we started down our road into town.

Just outside the center of our small town, Dino stopped to do his business. I transferred both leashes to my left hand so I could pull a poop sack from my back pocket. For a moment, my grip on Dino’s leash loosened. That’s all it took.

Dino bolted toward town, dragging his leash. I followed, trying not to drag Daisy, but urging her to move her short legs as fast as possible. I knew we couldn’t keep up, but I was trying to at least keep Dino in view.

He ran past the town depot, through the restaurant district, and took a right toward the Fox River. I swear at least twice, he looked back at me as if to ask, “Hey Dad, are you coming?”

By the time I reached the street he’d turned down, I was gassed. and Daisy and I could barely jog. It was 6 a.m. on Sunday morning. There was no one around except for me, Daisy, and runaround Dino. Then a gray pickup pulled to a stop at the corner coming up the street Dino had run down. 

Before I could ask the driver if he’d seen a dog, he rolled down his window and said, “Hey, are you looking for a big black poodle?”

“Yes,” I said,

“Well, he’s down the street in a parking lot and it looks like he’s waiting on someone.”

I thanked him and headed that way. Before I could take two steps, Dino came up the street toward me looking way too pleased with himself.

I’d seen this trick before. He’d gotten off leash and ran toward both Susan and me only to bolt past us and continue the merry chase. I braced myself to try to tackle him, but this time was different. He stopped just in front of me, sat down, and let me take his leash. I alternately praised and cursed him, but was so grateful that he had returned. 

The three of us headed back to the picnic tables near the town square so I could get a catch my breath and get my pulse back somewhere near normal.

Since that time, Dino has settled (somewhat). We haven’t had any runaway or runaround incidents. And I’m thankful that this last time he at least met me halfway. Have a great weekend and keep a tight grip on the leash. I know I will. 

Deer in the Dark

We had storms rolling in last night, so I hustled the dogs out for their last walk before bedtime. Lucy and Lulu, the little ones are easy, I just let them out behind the gate, but I leash Dino and Roy and take them to the side yard.

Dino was first. As soon as I got him out past the gate, he started to growl and circle and wanted to go back. Dino has two alert behaviors. When he barks and moves forward, it means he spies or smells something that warrants further attention. A squirrel or chipmunk, perhaps. When he growls and retreats, I pay attention. We kept close to the gate entrance so he could finish his business, then I hustled him and the two littles inside. I still had to take care of Roy, our three-legged, almost eighty-pound hound mix.

I leashed Roy and grabbed a flashlight. At least I’d be able to see what we were walking into. Roy doesn’t typically alert in the dark. He just bounds forward. It may be that he’s not easy to surprise after all his time spent in the Tennessee woods before we rescued him.

Lightning flashed in the distance as I walked Roy toward the side yard. I scanned the flashlight left. Nothing but trees. I flashed the beam in front of us. More trees. Then I moved it right to Roy’s “go-to” spot. A big buck stood tall and regal less than ten yards from us. I didn’t take the time to count his points, but he was easily the biggest specimen I’d seen on the hill this season and his gaze was fixed on us.

I’ve been chased by a buck while trying to navigate dogs on leash before and didn’t look to relive that experience, especially in the dark on the cusp of a storm. The thing about bucks this time of year, they act like they own the place. And even though I can produce the deed, they’re adamant. Roy and I retreated. He could make like the little ones behind the gate tonight.

Not long after, safe and warm inside with all dogs, the storm hit full force, wind, thunder, lightning, and driving rain. I thought about the buck and wondered where he sheltered. I thanked him silently for allowing Roy and me a graceful retreat from our nighttime encounter.

Roy, my fellow deer finder (Mike Barzacchini photo).

About Roy, It's Complicated

I want to share Roy’s story, but it’s complicated. Roy is our latest foster dog. He’s been with us for about six weeks. He came to us bleeding, just a few days after having his front right leg amputated after a gunshot wound. He was scared, in pain, and still needing more medical care. We held him and slept with him for days as his bleeding finally stopped and he started to heal. Still, he was on medicine and follow-up care for another 10 days. During that time, a bond developed between Roy and us. I’ve had dogs almost all my life. We have two wonderful, loving dogs now, both rescues. But no dog has loved me and been devoted to me like Roy. And he adores Susan. He’s also a deeply sensitive dog. He wants to please and he gives us those sad, deep brown eyes when corrected.

Remember I said, “It’s complicated.” Well, Roy at times has also been the most aggressive dog I’ve ever been around. Again, not to us. With us, he’s a puppy dog. But he’s shown aggressive behavior to our standard poodle mix, Dino, and to visitors to our home. When he decides to strike, it’s like a cobra. No warning. Quiet and lightning-fast. 

With us, he cuddles. He kisses. He plays fetch. He does well on the leash. And we’ve made progress with crate training, “stay,” and reducing separation anxiety. He’s smart, food motivated, and has the capacity to learn more. But his aggression may not be something that can be trained away. It may have to be managed. That’s why currently we’re also working on muzzle training. 

It may be that Roy sees Susan and me as the people who pulled the thorn from his paw. Regardless, his devotion to us is touching and our love for him is deep. We’re not giving up on Roy. But he also can’t stay with us indefinitely. 

Roy needs a special owner. Likely someone who lives alone, or possibly just the right couple, with no children, and no other dogs or cats. Someone who will show him patience and affection, but will also be firm in continuing to train him and manage his potential for sudden aggression. Susan and I believe that person is out there. We just need to find them and connect them to Roy.

When we do say goodbye to Roy, I will cry hard and long. My hope is that these tears will be a mix of sadness and joy. Sadness, at watching this amazing indomitable dog leaves our lives, and joy because we’ve found that special person who will care for Roy and enjoy his companionship for many years. Even when we say “goodbye” to Roy, it will be complicated.

Dino and Lucy, Fast Friends

It’s hard to reckon with all the changes of the past six months. Heck, even the last 60 days. It seems like Lucy has been in our lives forever. We started to foster her in early November 2019, just days before my mom died and a few weeks before we lost our bichon Daisy. It was quickly clear Lucy would be a “foster fail” and she’s been an amazing friend to Susan and me since. This spring also marks five years since we adopted Dino who was a foster from a rescue in Winfield, Illinois. What’s brought me great joy is how the two of them have grown close. They share a peaceful, sweet affection. Thanks, Susan, for these photos.