Reesie

Ladies and gentlemen, meet the new baby girl, Reese / Reesie Cup. After several failed attempts we finally found a dog who was with a rescue where we were approved, first in line for her, and we could actually meet her. 

She had been listed on petfinder as "PomPom," a girl Pom of two and a half from Lake Lanier Humane Rescue. She had spent the first two years of her life in a pen outside with her mother and two sisters before being turned over as owner release. One of her sisters, Bunny, was heartworm positive. Her mom, Cupcake, had found a family. So it was down to Dora and PomPom. Dora was not at the petsmart today, but PomPom was. 

We were told her history. That the owners had simply neglected the poms and left them in the pen with food and water occasionally thrown in. She had never seen a brush or a groomer. Her foster mom tried to brush her out and de-Matt her, but she still has tons. She is missing part of her left bottom canine, and she has an underbite. 

By her demeanor someone clearly abused as well as neglected her. When we stand up she's terrified. If we move quickly or make noise, she freaks out. She's uneasy on our hardwood floors. She had never jumped on a bed until yesterday at her foster mom's house. She loves being held, but is afraid to be picked up. She steals bits of food from the bowl and hides to eat them because she's afraid they'll be taken away. She won't go out alone because she's afraid of being left outside. But she won't come back in either because she's accustomed to being outside and is afraid to come in. 

She's not fully housebroken as she has

Never lived in a house until March. And she's afraid of everything. She's going to require a lot of patience. But I think that's why we got her. She needed a family who could love and understand her. Who wanted to help her and take care of her. That's us. 

Ian is completely smitten with her. 

And was from the moment he held her. She's probably going to end up "his" dog. But that's ok. She's still ours. 

Bailey is adjusting well to her. They sniff each other then avoid each other. She clearly longs for that pack mentality. She wants to be his friend, but she's so scaredy cat beta she won't try. And he's such a beta that he's kinda scared of her too. There having a beta-off currently. Neither of them want to play with toys. They're afraid the other dog might get mad. It's kind of sad but hilarious. 

Reesie goes for her groom Wednesday with the best groomer on the face of the planet, Tracie Williams(if you live in the north metro area of Atlanta you cannot find better). I can't wait to see what she looks like without mats and tangles and brittle hair. There's a gorgeous little girl hidden underneath all of that. I'm excited to meet her. 

Meet or Reesie was such a different experience than Bay. Bay took to me immediately. He picked me. He was mine. Reesie didn't pick us. She NEEDED us. And we accepted the call. Bailey was personable. Reesie is afraid of people. Bailey had been loved. Reesie had been neglected. It's such an interesting dichotomy. To watch both sides of a rescue. 

Bailey has a whole life I don't know about: where did he come from?

How did he lose his people?

Are they alive?

Do they still miss him?

What would he tell me if he could talk?

Why do fire alarms bug him out so bad but not other alarms?

How did he learn to hug?

Why does he howl?

Reesie's are so different.

I know where she came from. 

Her people threw her away. 

They don't miss her. 

And if she could talk I'm not sure she would, because she would be too afraid. 

My questions about her are

Why would anyone do that?

How could you not love and nurture that sweet baby?

Was she abused?

How and by whom? (And can I go do the same to them?)

What made them surrender her after TWO years?

How can I help her to trust me?

What can I do to heal her?

Only time will tell the answers to the last two. But I hope we can learn the ways to mend her broken spirit. And teach her how to be the pampered Pom she was born to be. 

My Boy, Bailey

James Bailey Doss Cunningham became my baby boy in January of 2009. After the loss of a long loved "outside" dog named Sandy, I had declared for my birthday "I want a dog."

I had lost my cat, Liam, my first baby boy, the summer before. Daisy, the dog I had raised with my sorority sister, was gone, and Sandy finally got old and sick, and I

Laid in the yard with her until she passed away. So after a year of loss, I wanted to start rebuilding. 

During the summer I had gotten a new kitten, Maggie, and my mom had gotten a grown Maine Coon, Smokey. And Smokey became Maggie's "mom." So it was clear when I moved away into my own apartment (my first time not at home or in a dorm where pets werent allowed), I couldn't pry Maggie from him. I wanted my own animal. I wanted a dog. 

I was convinced I wanted a bigger dog after Daisy had been destined to be one, but after three shelters I went into the Albany Humane Society where a classmate of mine from high school worked. After politely showing us all the dogs, she said "I have to show you my baby." He was being quarantined in another area for special needs pets. He was heartworm positive. And his name was BeBe. 

He was handsome, and I fell in love. But I still thought I wanted a big dog. So I went home to think it over. The next day, on my birthday, I said "let's go get him."

On the way back I decided that because his name has been "baby" and it sounded like "Bailey" which was his color...Bailey's Irish Cream Liquouer...that his name should be Bailey. 

On the way home we instantly bonded. He was meant to be my boy. 

He had clearly been "somebody's" beloved pet who either lost his people or was lost to his people. He had a precious temperament. He gave hugs. He was very familiar with human food. He wasn't going hungry on the streets. He was caught because he stole children's toys and hoarded them. He was a true character from the get go. 

So after extensive heartworm treatments, he was officially healthy. And I breeze past that, but it was a HARD time. Nonetheless we made it through. 

He loved dressing up and being pretty. I called him my highly homosexual dog. He loved all men. Used to make out with my roommates boy dog (they laid in the floor and licked the insides of each others mouths). And he LOVED clothes:

He would actually go to his box of clothes and pick them out to wear. He also had a toy chest that he would not only pick toys out of, but he would put them back in. He was such a smart and sweet boy. 

He was there with me through two heartbreaks, all of my college career at KSU, and 8 moves. He outlasted roommates and boyfriends and friendships. He was my constant. 

Then I met Ian. Bailey instantly liked Ian. Which. Is always a good sign. And after Ian and I were married he officially became "adopted" and took the name Cunningham. 

He was a focal point in our engagement photos. 

He was the ring bearer in our wedding. 

And he was our little boy. 

In November of last year, right after returning from my Honeymoon, I went home to keep my parents' dogs so they could take a much needed vacation. During the trip my "sister," a 14 year old Sheltie named Brandi, began seizing due to the cancerous tumor in her anal gland and complications from Cushings, and I had to make the hard decision to help her go on to the rainbow bridge. 

Brandi as I remember her

The morning I said goodbye

It broke my heart into a million pieces. She lived a good life. She had been declining for over two years. But she was my sister. I would've laid down on that table and died for her if I could've. But life had to go on. 

That left me with my boy and my "baby sister" Bella (a peekapoo)

Then in March of 2015 Bailey had been having more bathroom troubles than usual (he's always had his fair share). I took him to our vet, and they checked his anal sacs. One was very full. The other had a hard pellet that wouldn't express. This had happened once before, and like before she shot steroid and antibiotics into it and had us come back in a week. When we had our recheck nothing had changed. 

"I don't think it's cancer, but I can't say that with certanty. It feels like a tumor. It needs to come out."

So I was referred to veterinary surgical referral of Marietta that very week, and they said "it's just an initial check. But no food after midnight just in case."

"Yeah. Is a pea sized mass. We need to run scans and blood work to see if he shows signs of cancer. If he doesn't we can extract it and have it biopsied." My heart hurt so badly. "We can do it today." So Ian said do it. And I handed him off trying not to cry until he was out of the room. 

My boy could have cancer. And I wanted to throw up. My sister had just died of this. How could it happen again? To my family! The scans all came back clean. He had the surgery, and could come home the next day. 

My poor miserable boy didn't understand why it felt like something was biting his butt. And he couldn't get to it. 

The cone was too big and disorienting. He was terrified of everything. So we switched to a blow up collar. 

You can see his naked chicken butt in that photo too ^

But in a few days I got the call I had been praying for. No cancer. It was a mass of scar tissue and infection that had amassed over the years. He said he had never seen a mass that big that wasn't a tumor. He had felt sure that wouldn't be the call he made. 

But after 3 weeks he was good to go again. Back to his old self. Mostly. But I wasn't. In my head I almost lost my little boy. And not long after I lost my sister. His mortality became so real to me. And I realized he was 8. They have a lifespan of 12-16 years. I was at least half way through his life. And I was terrified. 

I always said if I had one wish it would be that Bailey aged at the same rate as me. That he would be happy and healthy, and we could grow old together. And when I died, he could die with me. But Genies aren't real, and I'll never get to make that wish. So the reality is...I will lose him. He will grow old before I do. And he will leave his earth. And my heart ached. 

I thought about what life would've been like had my parents not gotten Bella when they did. Brandi was 10. Healthy. Happy. A little ornery, but generally herself. They had two WHOLE dogs. A baby and an older dog. Bella wa San adult before Brandi began to decline badly. And if they had never gotten her, I'm not sure the pain of losing Boo could've been moved past to ever love another dog again. 

My mom waited nearly 20 years after the loss of her beloved poodle, Pepi to get another dog that was family. And that was Brandi. So I began frantically searching for a puppy. 

I looked at every breeder within a state a distance. I looked at every rescue group across the USA. I signed up for alters from rescue me's Pom site, petfinder.com, Craig's list...I wanted a puppy. I needed to make sure I wasn't alone. 

And then need turned into less so. It became when the right one came along. And it didn't have to be a puppy. It just had to be a girl so Bailey would probably get along better and not have pissing matches. Ian had wanted a dog since we got together. He talked about it frequently. So. It was a mutual decision to add one. 

And every time we left Ian would say "you're still the only dog today!"

And that brings me to today...

Purpose Statement

The purpose of this blog is to create a space for me to share my extremely rewarding and/or frustrating moments as the mom of two very different rescue poms. Anyone who has ever rescued a dog can tell you it is one of the most amazing and trying things you can do. You don't always know the history of the dog. You don't know their fear triggers. There is SO MUCH unknown. But some of that is the good unknown. You're surprised the first time they look at you like they love you. The first time they seem to claim you as their own. The first kiss. The first snuggle. There is so much to owning a rescue dog, especially a rescue Pom, with their tiny bodies and huge personalities. 

These are my stories.