Carreen's Rescue Blog

New humane education website unveiled

carreen — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 12:51:00 -0400

For years, I've dreamed about having a home for all my stories to live in, no matter the format or subject. I've finally taken the plunge and started my own website devoted mainly to animals in general, and humane education in particular.

You can find it attached to my Fuzzy Town website. Here's a direct address to the animal stuff, but I'll also be loading stories about humans, and pretty much anything else that catches my eye, into other parts of the site. There will also be a club for kids, fresh ideas for shelter programs, and profiles on shelters and heroes in the field. Maybe even a bit of fiction.

http://fuzzytownrescue.blogspot.com

Swing by and check it out sometime, or send me an email at carreen@fuzzytown.com.

A dolphin’s tail tells the tale

carreen — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 12:51:00 -0400

Have you ever had an otherworld experience?

Larry McClure did. And it wasn't just a flash of the otherworld. It was underworldly, too.

The experienced diver was hanging off his boat's swim ladder treading water 30 miles into the Gulf of New Mexico when an indigenous resident of the seas came calling.

The Atlantic bottlenose dolphin circled the boat for 45 minutes before the retired United Airlines pilot figured out what she was angling for. A ball of monofilament -- more commonly known as fishing line -- had wound around her tail, and the rest of the ball still trailed behind it. The flukes on her dorsal fin were being shredded by the synthetic fiber, and parasites had started to take root in the decaying flesh.

"She came right up next to me and stopped," Larry told me when I was in Sarasota recently. "I really feel like she came to ask for my help. It had to be a hindrance to her ability to catch fish. Conceivably she might have starved to death."

The 1,400-pound creature depends on her tail to help her catch small fish and squid.

The dolphin chose her rescuers well. Larry was wearing full diving gear. He and his wife Cheryl have been diving for 15 years, and each have more than 500 dives under their belt. While Larry dove underwater and went to work on freeing the dolphin's tail, Cheryl -- a professional photographer -- captured the moment indelibly on film.

Larry held the tail with his left hand while he hung onto the swim ladder with his knees. With his right hand, he began to slowly unwind the fishing line from her tail. She didn't move and watched him work. As he got near to the end, the last bit was embedded. The dolphin began to get nervous as if she was in pain, and decided it was time to take off.

Larry grabbed hold and pulled as she swam away.

"I felt confident I got most of it off."

Dolphins are famous for showing curiosity towards humans who are in or near water, and have been known to rescue people. There are stories of dolphins using their bodies to bob injured divers close to the surface to save them from drowning.

This time, the people returned the favor.

Mowed down by progress

carreen — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 16:48:00 -0400

Some days I'm scared to leave my house. But not because of agoraphobia.
It's the animals.

Everywhere I go, I find animals -- dumped, lost, frightened, injured. I regularly encounter horrific suffering that doesn't escape my mind once I leave the scene.

I'm not the only one who has this affliction for finding animals in trouble. Most of the rescuers I know report the same phenomenon.

It's gotten so I can't leave the house without a carload of rescue gear.

Today it was a deer who had been cut down by traffic. As I drove by, I spotted her lying marooned on the grassy center median of the busy freeway. She was crawling and trying to get up, but her disabled back legs kept failing her and knocking her back down again.

When I see an animal in trouble, all thoughts of personal safety evaporate.

I slammed on the brakes and hugged my car into the guardrail as the road's shoulder was rapidly disappearing. Just before it tapered off completely, I was able to lodge my car out of the path of traffic barreling at me from behind. The 5 Freeway is the main thoroughfare from Canada. All day, it rumbles with massive trucks.

As the vehicles rolled by, I tried to figure how I was going to travel the 500 feet or so backwards to get to her.

But first I fumbled with my cell phone and called 911.

With breaks in traffic coming in short bursts, I was able to back up close to the deer. I waited for my moment to shoot across, and drove my car onto the median.

I was careful to park a good distance away from her, because when I tried to get near, she struggled to get up and away, and back into the path of danger.

Like all wildlife, she was more scared of people than cars.

I stayed hidden behind my vehicle and watched her while I waited for the police to arrive. When the male and female officer got there, they kindly explained to me that there was nothing that could be done for a deer with broken legs.

I already knew that. All I wanted to know was when would this be over.

They got on their radio calling for wildlife rescuers to respond and perform the euthanasia.

But it didn't seem like they would be there fast enough. Again and again, she tried to get up and fell back onto the grass.

I begged them to shoot her and put her out of her misery, and they admitted that if they didn't get a rapid response, that's what they planned to do.

But not while I was there.

They wanted me to leave so they could stop traffic and do what needed to be done, without the tender eyes of the general public to witness it.

In rescue, there are cases that blur together, and those that stick out. The ones you don't forget haunt you because you couldn't do anything to help.

It doesn't matter that you did all you could.

Sometimes that's just not enough.

Fur baby on board

carreen — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 17:59:00 -0400

I was waiting to catch a Southwest flight out of Kansas City when I had a familiar sensation.

I’m referring to the uncanny magnetism between animal rescuers recognizing their own kind. It could be called animal attraction, this bond cultivated from common experiences in the trenches.

This time, it was Kelly Baxter-Osborne who crossed my radar. The 32-year-old was traveling back to Seattle from her hometown in Missouri, and we promptly struck up a conversation while people milled about at the gate.

When animal rescuers get together, it’s not long before we lapse into our own vernacular. We speak rescue. Our insider language springs from the assumed knowledge we’ve picked up from years working in the system set up for discarded animals, whether at shelters, sanctuaries or independent rescue groups.

Kelly, who has been riding horses since she was just a toddling two-year-old, gave me some fascinating tips on equine rescue. And she talked about her volunteer work as a member of the Cowgirl Spirit Rescue Drill Team. The organization buys horses from slaughterhouses, then trains them to be adoption-ready with the help of choreographed drill exercises. The drills balance out the horses’ skittish natures by building up their confidence.

Kelly gave me a peek inside her duffle bag, which contained a nine-week-old Husky-Australian Shepherd puppy she had rescued from dire circumstances. Even though Kelly had been out of town on a family vacation, she couldn’t turn her eyes away from an animal in trouble.

Fortunately Southwest doesn’t pre-assign seating, so Kelly and I stowed the pup and ourselves into an exit row and got to work.

As is usual, we knew people in common, and we began trading information. We talked about groups we knew, rumors we had heard, and all the gossip -- disputed and credible. We discussed projects we had worked on. For example, Kelly had rescued a dog from a hoarder house I was planning to penetrate to survey the conditions of the animals. Rumors described the place as a putrid mess, but Kelly said it checked out fine.

As it turned out, it was lucky that Kelly and I were traveling together for another reason. The pup went down so hard on sedatives that we were worried she might never wake up. That’s when I was able to share something with Kelly that I’ve learned as a rescuer. I don’t sedate animals because I get nervous about their drug reactions in the air when I’m far from a veterinary clinic.

I've taken pet CPR, and Kelly's spent her share of time around animals too. We were both concerned. We brought the duffle bag up from under the seat and kept a close watch over the puppy. Periodically, we checked her breathing, looked to see if her gums were healthy and pink, and pulled her eyelids back to see if she was responding. She stretched and gave a couple of yawns, so we got back to rescue speak.

Upon arrival, the puppy's head popped up right on cue. She was just fine.

When Kelly and I parted ways at baggage claim, she hadn’t yet decided if the dog she had called Loki would be staying with her permanently, or moving on to another home.

Either way, I don’t doubt that Loki will end up somewhere safe.

Whether traveling by plane or pony express -- or should I say puppy express -- Kelly will make sure of that.

Joy to the world

carreen — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 09:14:00 -0400

When I'm interviewing animal rescuers, I've stopped asking if something horrible happened to them in the past.

Instead, I ask what happened.

Was it abuse? Neglect? Violence at the hands of human beings?

That's because I've noticed that people who risk their livelihoods, their health, even their own lives to save animals have usually been victims of trauma themselves, often from experiences that stretch back to their tender childhoods.

Whether it's because they identify passionately with the underdogs, or they have lost hope in human beings, the rescuers I've encountered turn to animals instead of people to find safe, rewarding, unconditional love.

My kind friend Joy is a dedicated animal lover. We first met when we landed on the scene of disaster in New Orleans in September 2005 following Hurricane Katrina's history-making devastation. We had both self-deployed to rescue the emaciated, injured animals left behind to die in a flooded wasteland devoid of people to care for them.

Like many of us, Joy has found a dangerous way to cope with her inner demons. Her soothing behavior of choice is self-injury. She began the behavior as a teenager.

Self-injurers might cut, burn, hit or scratch themselves. It's a disorder that mystifies many laypeople, who can't fathom inflicting pain on their bodies to bring comfort to their minds. But I understand Joy's actions. The physical pain she inflicts causes her to forget her mind's pain for a moment, and the distraction brings relief. It might also be an attempt to ease feelings of emptiness or numbness. The pain allows sufferers to feel alive because they are feeling something.

Joy -- who works as a veterinary technician -- recently spent a 30-day stint at a recovery clinic in Texas. That's where she discovered that a small item gave her big comfort.

Upon arrival at the clinic, she was handed a Recovery Buddy to help her through the difficult moments. Joy recalls clutching her yarn-covered soft toy as she weathered the lonely times away from friends and family.

Before I made the trip to visit Joy near her home, she asked me what my favorite colors were. I said black and blue. That's appropriate because I'm notorious for being a clumsy oaf.

And so, over a leisurely lunch, she presented me with Stormy, a black-and-blue Recovery Buddy she had knitted herself.

I was touched. The Buddies are knitted by survivors like Joy, who donate them to clinics around the country. The toys provide comfort to people battling a variety of mental health disorders.

The doll's appearance was apt on more than one level. Stormy sums up my circumstances right now. And don't forget -- Joy and I crossed paths in the aftermath of the most devastating storm in American history.

As I write this, Joy is madly knitting up a batch of 50 Recovery Buddies that are destined for an eating disorder clinic in Florida. She plans to enclose encouraging notes with words to comfort the recipients. Like them, she's been there.

Joy's found a way to make herself feel better. Instead of hurting herself, she's helping others.

And she's figuring out that this storm, too, will pass.

Click Carreen's Rescue Blog to return to the main page.

Carreen Maloney can be reached at carreen@fuzzytown.com.

Catch and release

carreen — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 15:33:00 -0400

Recently I was telling you about all the mouse casualties I’ve been encountering around the house.

And then, when I least expect it, there comes an unexpected save.

I wandered into the bathroom a couple of mornings ago and immediately noticed something was amiss.

Little Carreen -- who spends her nights safely tucked into this room -- was sitting on the countertop watching me as I investigated. The fleecy brown blanket that feathers her wicker bed was in disarray, and bunched into itself.

I started to straighten out the blanket, surmising that she had decided the bed was a convenient litter box.

But when I pulled out the blanket to fluff it up, I was surprised to find a tiny field mouse bundled and trembling inside.

This pipsqueak was too small to have engineered a self-bundle. There was only one possible explanation.

Little C had her fun with the mouse, then put him safely away like a plaything in a toy box. She showed species-defying compassion.

I took him outside and sat him on the grass. He didn’t run away. I petted him a little and offered some soothing words, but he just sat there shaking, too terrified to leave my side. Finally after an hour I left him alone. When I came back 15 minutes later, he was gone.

Kids summon the words needed to save animals

carreen — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 11:44:00 -0400

Right on schedule, Buddy pads into a guest appearance that’s going to save his life. But the Beagle-Basset mix is completely oblivious to the significance of the meeting. Instead, he concentrates on sniffing his way around the room, as hound dogs tend to do.

The lack of focus on his future won’t hurt Buddy’s chances. He’s free to be himself. His sniffing habit will be presented to potential adopters as an endearing quality.

Meet Buddy’s promoters: Mrs. Davis’ fifth grade class.

Buddy is more fortunate than most shelter animals. He’s got 26 Kendall Elementary School kids on his side, and they are dedicated to finding him a responsible new home. These mini marketers are special for many reasons, not the least of which is their age. At 10, these children have a more sophisticated knowledge of animal welfare issues than most adults I encounter.

While Buddy does his hound dog thing, the kids look him over and pepper Whatcom Humane Society community outreach director Laura Clark with questions about the low-lying canine. Laura tells the children that Buddy was given away twice in two weeks before he landed at her shelter. She describes him as friendly and mellow, and a bit overweight.

“Would he be a good dog for a jogger?” Laura asks the kids.

“Maybe a jogger, but not a runner,” pipes up one boy.

After the kids get the scoop on Buddy, they mobilize into action. Some spend time getting to know the dog better. The rest break into small groups and head for the circular bank of classroom computers. They settle in immediately, and start hammering out Buddy’s tale of woe on the keyboards in a variety of formats -- news stories, advertisements, fictional accounts, songs and poems, even a drawing or two.

The format of their pieces and the partners they choose to work with is up to them. More rules aren’t required, because rules aren’t the motivation for these kids to work hard and turn in first-rate projects.

It’s the animals’ lives that are at stake.

“This has made writing important,” says Alex Bezugly, 10.

Each week, Laura brings a kid-friendly shelter animal to Judy Davis’ class for about 45 minutes -- dogs, cats, even a chicken. It’s the saddest cases that resonate most sharply.

“They would see the abandoned animals, and they seemed to really relate,” Laura says. “They would really identify with that animal, and have empathy for the hard-luck stories.”

Kids who used to hand in two or three sentences just a few months ago are writing pages now. That’s because they know their work will immediately be posted on Whatcom Humane Society’s website along with the animal’s photos. And that drives them. They are compelled to put the animal’s best paw forward in the quest to find them a responsible new home.

“These animals are amazing,” says Ridge Buecking, 10. “It’s cool to write about them and have people read our work.”

Recent test scores from this class reflect the fervor with which the kids are attacking their mission. Writing and reading marks have dramatically improved from where they sat in October when the humane education program began. Even math marks are better when essay answers are required for the questions.

It’s the brainchild of two animal lovers -- Laura Clark from Whatcom Humane Society, and Judy Davis, a veteran schoolteacher with 25 years in education. Besides being friends who share a love of animals, they are also neighbors who live on acreage not far from the elementary school.

I asked Laura how the program, which is just finishing its first year, took flight.

“Judy and I cooked it up while we were hiking in the woods,” Laura says. “We solve the world’s problems when we’re hiking.”

It took two years for them to turn their glimmer of an idea into a real live program.

“It’s hard to find a principal who’s willing to take a chance on it,” Judy says.

She’s found a supporter in principal Charles Burleigh, who views it as a rich experience for the kids, particularly given the school’s demographics. Kendall Elementary is in the foothills of the Mount Baker National Forest, which is a relatively remote location, “so it’s important to have experiences that come to school as opposed to kids walking out the door and having experiences in a city,” Burleigh says.

The region also has the cheapest housing in Whatcom County, which tends to draw poor families. Three-quarters of the kids who attend Kendall receive free or subsidized lunches, and all get free breakfast.

“They’ll never forget this,” Burleigh says. “This helps them have a more well-rounded education.”

Besides boning up on their writing abilities, the children also develop social and communication skills, teamwork, empathy and compassion.

The power of compassion is evident. There has been an overwhelmingly positive response from everyone the program touches. It’s already the most talked-about item at parent-teacher conferences, Judy says, and it’s nearly always the first thing the parents mention when they sit down with her -- that it’s their child’s favorite time of the week.

And it’s pretty sweet for the animals, too.

Just ask Buddy.

Love means size doesn't matter

carreen — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 09:19:00 -0400

Lexi the Chihuahua snuck into her home the way many animals do -- she started out as a foster dog. Then Zoey and her human mom fell in love with this bitty dog, and couldn't bear to say goodbye. She's become firmly entrenched as part of the family.

Hoo-hoo knew?

carreen — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 07:04:00 -0400

Sometimes I power down all the modern sounds inside the house and just listen to nature playing outside. Without stereos, TVs, telephones, microwaves, and vacuum cleaners, I can hear a whole other world happening out there.

My favorite birds to listen to are the owls, who don’t just stop at a simple “hoo-hoo”. It always sounds to me like they’re chattering out a conversation.

Tonight the little birds were trilling so enthusiastically that it sounded like an aviary out there, and I swear I heard a husband and wife owl nagging at each other.

Back and forth they went for 20 minutes. One would call out, then there would be a short pause, and I would hear the other one respond from the opposite end of the forest. I guess commitment can be a challenge, even in the bird world.

To me, it sounded like their conversation went something like this:

“Get back here and clean out the nest. It’s a mess in here!”

“Why don’t you do it, I’ve been out hunting for food all day.”

“And what do you think I’ve been doing? Do you think the owlets are raising themselves? You come and pick up after yourself!”

I don’t think the husband gave a hoot.

These two almost became the deer-ly departed

carreen — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 16:55:00 -0400

I was headed into a pristine snow-capped Pacific Northwest mountain range today when I came upon an accident waiting to happen.

I slammed on the brakes when I noticed two young deer shoving their noses through barbed wire looking very much like they wanted to jump the fence.

But it wasn't the barbed wire fence that foreshadowed danger.

It was the highway they were trying to cross.

Mount Baker Highway, a winding two-lane road leading out of Bellingham, is known for its two contradictory characteristics: beautiful scenery, and gruesome accidents.

The last time I traveled this route, it was barricaded because of a terrible accident. I took the wrong detour and came up a back road, only to find myself smack in the middle of a horrifying car crash scene. It was like something out of the evening news. Glass, twisted metal and blood were what I saw as I soaked up the sights of what was left from the three-car high-speed demolition derby.

This time, I thought it was going to be the deer who ended up as casualties of this twisted mountain highway

I stopped my car in the middle of the road and hit the flashers. I stepped out and motioned cars, trucks and semi-trailers to stop dead. To my surprise, they waited patiently.

When I get into an animal rescue situation, I try to anticipate how the animals will react. I stood a distance away, waiting to see what the deer would do next.

I didn't want to frighten them into the road. Nor did I want to drive them back if they preferred to cross. If they needed to get over, I wanted to be there to stop the cars that could potentially hit them.

The two deer eventually decided against crossing and ran away, taking flight through the field like two nimble Springboks. When I finally drove off, I still felt uneasy. I didn't know whether these deer had it in their minds that they needed to cross the road, or if it was just a whim.

I'll never know. But I do know this: they didn't die on my watch today.

And that will have to be enough.