If you have any of the above books and would like them signed, mail them to:
P.O. Box 131845, Houston, TX., 77219.
Please include three dollars for return postage.
Send email to firstname.lastname@example.org
Scout's Honor Rescue is an all-breed, no-kill, Not-For-Profit 501(c)(3) animal rescue organization committed to bringing courage, character and compassion to Houston's homeless pet population and making a positive difference in the lives of these stray and abandoned animals and the Houston community as a whole. 100% of every dollar donated goes directly to saving the life of a homeless animal.
It wasn't even noon today and I'd already had what you might call a meltdown. I felt extremely tired yesterday and my chest hurt, which freaked me out a little, and I only felt okay when I was mellowing out before going to bed, while watching television and forcing myself not to think about anything in particular. (Trust me, that takes effort. At any given moment my mind is often thinking about two to umpteen things at a time. Lately, it's Am I breathing? combined with Why me? garnished liberally with This sucks.) Before turning in, I took Gypsy out one last time and it was then that I realized how much energy one little dog was causing me to expend. I'm not fast enough to chase after her, because I can't run, so it's difficult to keep an eye on her and correct her when she's getting into something she shouldn't. It takes a lot of energy and breath support to be loud and authoritative, and my breath support is compromised right now. Even controlling her on a leash was tiring. Gypsy and Rex together...too much too soon.
When we were back inside my apartment Gypsy pranced and danced at my feet until we were upstairs and she spotted a sleeping Rex in the distance. Knowing what was about to happen, I protested as loudly as I could, but she ignored me and pounced on Rex, trying to get him to play with her. Rex, however, wanted no part of her foolishness and made this known by grabbing her neck and pinning her head to the floor, growling menacingly. I'd never seen him act like that with another dog before, and it was very scary. It was an obvious alpha dog/superiority gesture, and I had a feeling he hadn't hurt her. I calmly told him to stop it and slipped between them sideways, carefully nudging him away with the backside of my body. It worked. He went away and I inspected every inch of Gypsy, looking for broken skin. Nothing. She was fine. She wriggled in my grasp, as if to say, That was fun! Where did he go? As if. I crated her and went to bed.
This morning I felt better, but I still had to admit to myself that I didn't have the energy and stamina necessary to offer an untrained pup like Gypsy. I contacted Rex's attorney, told her I'd jumped the gun, and apologized for making a hasty decision to foster another dog too soon after my operation. She replied to let me know Happy Tails was expecting Gypsy back and not to worry about it. Before I took her back, I held Gypsy for a good half hour and cried. Having the will and compassion to help a dog in need and physically being unable to is a heart wrenching horrible feeling. I also felt angry, too. While I was crying my nose got stuffed up and then I could barely breathe. I tried to sob and almost choked. I couldn't even cry right. Pathetic.
After I brought Gypsy back to Happy Tails I got a cafe mocha from Starbucks to make me feel better. Didn't work.
Some of you have been asking about Tyson, noting that I've been rather cryptic about whether or not he's still at The Compound. That's because he's not. We found a wonderful home for him while I was still in the hospital. Mr. Becky was nice enough to take Tyson to Saturdays With Scout's Honor meet and greet at the beginning of the month and, while he was there, a wonderful family met him and adored him instantly. Laura sent me their application to review and said they were willing to wait to adopt Tyson until I was out of the hospital, but I insisted they go ahead with the adoption without me. The family was perfect on paper, and, if Laura met them and approved of them, why wait for me? Get that dog in a good home, pronto.
Today, Laura and I visited Tyson in his new home, because we needed to get his crate, leash, collar, and blankets--all of which were donated items--back for my next foster dog to use. It was so great to see Tyson in his new home! The family is fantastic. They're nice people, and it's obvious that everyone loves Tyson. He greeted me and seemed happy to see me, but then he seemed to say, Nice to see you, but I've got four little children to follow. You know how it is. And then he left to see what the kids were up to in the other room. He'll have lots to do now, minding the children, which will be good for him. Laura asked me if it made me sad to see him with someone else, and I said not at all, because it's so good to see him in such a great home.
On the way back to The Compound, we stopped at Happy Tails and picked up Gypsy, my newest foster dog. She's a little over a year old and was found recently wandering the streets of Houston. She's very sweet, but kind of timid about her new surroundings. Here's a photo of her checking out her new crate in my apartment: