How Did You Get Into Adopting Oldies?

[Ian]

For me I never did consciously decide to adopt an Oldie, it was more a matter than an Oldie decided I was the one for her. It’s ended so long that I don’t particularly expect, nor indeed really care whether anyone reads it all. I post this story today more in a tribute to Sheba, the dog who started my love of dogs and the German Shepherd in particular and, of course to Jo, who passed over to the Bridge 6 months ago today.

 

As a child I grew up with Sheba. I was about 3 years old when she arrived, as would she have been. I have no real recollection of her arrival nor of there ever being a time when she was not there.

 

My Dad was working in security at the local shopping centre at the time. A colleague of his apparently had a large German Shepherd. At nights when they were locked in there “alone†together this dog would chase a bone the length of the centre and then destroy it. He knew of Sheba, apparently left living in a paint shed, heavily matted as a result and in need of a new home. So it came that one day she arrived with us.

 

Apparently my brother and I were frightened of her that first day & sat on the freezer out of reach but she soon proved herself a much loved part of the family. My parents subsequently split when I was 12 and Sheba stayed with us – he says for our protection though I wonder whether it was just convenience myself. Gradually age began to catch up with Sheba. Ultimately her hearing and sight were not as good as they had once been but ultimately it was her back legs that did for her. She was gradually less able to walk as far or her legs would suddenly buckle. The first time I saw it I didn’t know what to do and remember just willing her to get up again. Thankfully she did and we continued home but it was the beginning of the end for her. Unknown to me until years later my Mum had apparently summoned my Dad to look at her one day & he’d advised putting her to sleep then. The vet however offered some form of medication and she managed to go on for another 18 months or so. Ultimately she reached the point where after having been laid down all night she was struggling to get up again and began to mess in the house. Not long after Sheba’s 15th birthday she went back to the vets. I remember watching them leave the house and feeling unable to stop it but though my mother would claim she didn’t know it I knew there and then that I wouldn’t ever see Sheba again. My mum “would never have let me take her – it was too upsetting†and yet I had “alwaysâ€believed that when Sheba’s time came I would take her and I would certainly have wanted to be there with and for her at the end.

 

This was Sheba

 

It was never talked about and not until Jo died had I ever told anyone, how I’d felt. As an adult I can see that it may indeed be that Sheba’s time had come. The vet had apparently said he thought she would have brought Sheba sooner and even my Mum, who isn’t really a dog lover at all, says she came back outside and sat there sobbing that day. Back then however, I remember sitting there that morning, in Sheba’s usual spot, promising that one-day, when she was old and incontinent, I’d be there - ready to treat her in the same manner. I also remember fighting back tears after biking to see my Dad at work the following Sunday & telling him Sheba had gone. I think this was the last time I ever cried for the next twenty odd years.

 

Circumstances prevented it and 16 years were to pass before it eventually happened but I never forgot Sheba and always knew that, one-day, I would share my life with another German Shepherd.

 

In 2001 that time had finally come, I’d rang around the local kennels, though found few German Shepherds around. One fairly young and very handsome boy was in foster for a rescue centre relatively local to me, not at the kennels, as I’d expected. They apparently wanted an experienced home and wouldn’t even let me meet him. I’d also enquired about whether they needed volunteer help but the lady I’d spoken to wasn’t there when I went over there & I largely felt I was just being ignored. These two factors were much to my annoyance as it was a 20-mile drive or so each way and they had no other German Shepherds. However, a nearby kennels was briefly mentioned as somewhere they took dogs in from. It wasn’t far away so off I went.

 

A young kennel maid told me they only had one German Shepherd though implied “he†perhaps wouldn’t be what I was looking for. I was told “he†was about 8, “he†didn’t look in great shape and had a bent ear and didn’t even have a name. When she went into the kennel the dog walked away and laid in the back section and in my naivety (though I didn’t know it at the time) I’d almost decided that this wasn’t the dog for me. I thought may either be frightened of “his†own shadow or even worse go the other way and turn on someone.

 

I was then told this was the local police pound, he’d been here 3 days and if not claimed or re-homed in another 7 days time he’d be put to sleep. The rescue had already been down once and “he†wasn’t one of the lucky ones.

 

I’d had no idea that this went on and just couldn’t believe it. I felt so sorry for this poor “boy†that I decided the least I could so was take “him†out for a walk. She brought “him†out and off we went round their paddock. The dog pulled a little but nothing major and was clearly enjoying meandering round and sniffing the grass instead of being stuck in that kennel – far from being a problem dog “he†was just a pleasure to walk.

 

After a while the kennel maid started wandering back towards us. We met in the middle of the paddock. As we did so no one told “him†to do so but this “boyâ€sat down across the front of my legs leaned up against me and looked up at me so hopefully. That was it, there was no way was I going to let them murder this lovely natured “boy†next week.

 

And so “he†was immediately reserved and safe. I assumed that they knew what they are doing and what dogs they had in so I never even looked at this dog’s underneath. Only later, after taking “him†home did I realise that he was in fact a she!

 

At one time I was studying counselling. Some found it so frustrating that I appeared to show little emotion about anything. They just didn’t understand that I wasn’t deflecting these things - they just genuinely weren’t that important to me. I’ve been looking at this thread since JoT posted it, wanting to post our story and yet avoid it at the same time, not sure of whether I could bring myself to write it or prevent it becoming too long for others to read. I loved her and despite having Tara & Joyce here to ease her loss a little I still miss Jo and spare a thought or word – usually just god bless sweetheart / Jo as I open or lock up or pass her grave each day. It’s now May 17th 2007. In 4 days time it will be six months since I lost her and just typing this has set me sobbing again.

 

 

Anyway back to 2001

Living alone, I’d already decided that I wanted a pair to keep each other company and amused when I was out. I also couldn’t be sure that an owner wouldn’t turn up so my search continued anyway

 

It turned out that a lady who worked at the most local kennels to me and also bred German Shepherds had taken home a dog that was somewhat choosy about her choice of kennel maids. She had apparently backed one of the younger girls into a corner and refused to let her leave the kennel. She now needed to take back one of them hence Tara, then aged 18 months was looking for a home. When she & Tara came to visit she was a gorgeous looking dog, which in some ways reminded me of Sheba. I couldn’t say no. She was perhaps not entirely sure of me as she tended to stay closer to her but it was agreed that Tara would stay and see how she got on. This lady was at the time running a training class nearby & we also began to go there the following class. Apparently she’d been taken in by the RSPCA, full of fleas but otherwise in good shape. There was also a suggestion that perhaps it would be better to wait a while before getting another dog but no particular suggestion as to why. Within a few months, when I needed to take Tara out of the car to let a judge in for Jo’s Good Citizen test and asked her to hold Taraa it was apparent that Tara now wanted to be with me.

 

Two days later, on November 22nd 2001, our “poundies†time would already be up and so after an introduction to Tara home she came to join us. I’d been trying to guess her name by calling out various female names. Jo was the first she actually looked upto and so that was to be the one.

 

I’d already complained to the first rescue about the manner in which I felt I’d been treated and they called me in response. I’m generally easy going but can be somewhat direct if I feel it’s warranted & I think they were a little shocked I’d felt this way but one comment they did make was “you’ve saved that dogs life, most people wouldn’t have taken herâ€. Something that was to become a comforting thought 5 years later.

 

This is Jo (right) and Tara (left) pictured about 6 months after they joined me.

 

There were many happy memories over the next 5 years and both Tara and Jo were a real pleasure to share life with. At the outset they had the odd few spats and Tara proved to like to let various other dogs know she was around and boss at times but this was gradually ironed out and the two of them were ultimately (training classes & the like excepted) never apart. I’d expected them both to be around for some years to come.

 

Sadly in July 2006 I was laid on the floor in front of tv one evening, Tara by my side when Jo walked across the room. I thought I saw something & sure enough on closer inspection she had a lump developing. A polish vet the following day suggested it was a benign tumour, he’d recommend removal but nothing to worry about it wasn’t urgent. I never thought to question him – just assuming that a vets diagnosis was reliable – but felt that this lump wanted cutting out asap. Jo was booked into the first available appointment. Only when telling Pam, my sister & her commenting on her experience with little Peggy (now also at the bridge) having been biopsied did I begin to question this diagnosis. It was admitted he couldn’t be sure and indeed the vet who actually removed the tumour, like me, wanted to biopsy it. I’d so hoped it would be a waste of the £40 or so he’d mentioned but sure enough a week later I got a message asking me to ring the surgery. I knew there & then from the lack of a full message and the intonation that it was bad news. When I rang he confirmed that Jo had had cancer. I was warned it could spread or return and her prognosis was therefore “guardedâ€. Check-ups in the coming weeks revealed no cause for concern and I was so hopeful that we’d beaten it.

 

In the coming months she seemed to recover well. She’d put on some weight again, generally was looking better and she just continued her life as normal. Then, in October she began to have intermittent spells of unusual pulse rate or shallow breathing. Over the next few weeks she had an examination, blood tests, ultrasound, with all coming back fine. There was never anything to see when we went to the vets & I offered to get a camcorder shot of what I was trying to describe. Neither of us had suspected cancer to be the cause due to the entirely intermittent nature of these spells. The rest of the time she was just her normal self.

 

By the time it was possible to get that shot, a fortnight later, Jo the following day suffered a distressing attack when her entire body was shaking for maybe 5 – 10 minutes. When she recovered she just laid quietly for about the next 5 hours but again suddenly then jumped up and continued life as ever. Her breathing thereafter was always slightly heavier though. The vet felt she’d possibly developed an abscess behind her eye and she’d been given antibiotics and a pain killing injection to help her through the night. He could drain her eye if this was the case but had looked at her weight loss and coat the moment he’d come out and said he now had to fear cancer. We viewed the video agreed to do a chest xray the following morning but I was warned that I was going to have to prepare myself for the worst. I heard and remembered but didn’t really take much in after that. He mentioned other consultations but I’d said I’d take her in at nine am and did so.

 

When I look at the video (despite others advice I just cant bear to wipe it. It’s the last evidence I have of poor Jo alive) or her later photos I can see in her coat and face how ill she was compared to the earlier photo here. Though at the time, seeing her each day and so wanting to believe she’d be okay I just didn’t see it until the very end

 

I often think in song and two had kept coming to my mind. Frank Sinatra’s My Way (and now the end is near…..) and Simon & Garfunkels Bridge over troubled waters (when you’re wearying, feeling small ……..)

 

We went to see Dad & Pam that night. Dosed up on her injection you’d almost not have known there was anything wrong, though only the day before I’d honestly thought she was going to die on me right there. She ate biscuits at Dads, waltzed into Pam’s stole and ate Dylan’s (her Bernese puppy) rawhide chew with relish and I so wanted to believe we could still fight on. Pam had looked at her, listened to what had been said and decided she wanted to come with me tomorrow. I’m not a particularly religious man, I’ve perhaps been more an agnostic than anything, but literally prayed for Jo that night. For them to find anything other than cancer but sadly, deep down, I already knew that was what they would find. It was merely a matter of how bad and how long she might have. A couple of times that night as her breathing quietened again I picked her up lifted her onto my bed and laid there cuddling her, thinking that we may be about to say goodbye. That for me would have been the nicest way in which she could have left this earth.

 

Jo however was clearly a fighter. Before 9am we were outside of the vets and Jo, Tara & I went for a walk in the park. Allowing for the leap year it was 5 years to the day that she had arrived. Jo wasn’t upto following Tara chasing stones, as she might normally have done but was still battling – feint, as it was I still had that slight hope she’d be okay for a while yet.

 

When we went into the vets it became apparent we hadn’t understood each other at all. They were expecting me to leave her there until they were ready. She didn’t like the vets so much after having had her operation and always wanted to head for the door as quickly as she could. I had no intention of leaving her there in what might be her final few hours and so off the four of us went - for another walk. Her breathing was deeper than it had been those few days before but still she was battling on.

 

I was reluctant to even leave her when they took her in for the xray an hour or so later – what if she died under anaesthetic – but had to reluctantly agree to that. I told him that I didn’t want to put her to sleep today, whilst we could help her that was what we did. I didn’t care what it cost – I’d have gladly sold my house to save her – but that I’d promised her and myself that I wouldn’t let her suffer and I was looking to him for his opinion on that.

 

Jo walked in though she clearly wasn’t keen at being left, looking back at me. Pam & I went for a coffee in the nearby Morrisons. It seemed a long wait but it was perhaps only half an hour or so later when the phone rang. He met us three quarters of the way back across the car park. It was, he said, more than his worst fears confirmed Jo was riddled with cancer and he didn’t know how she’d kept going – a human being would have been on oxygen and all sorts by this stage! There was just nothing more he could do for her and as I’d asked yes in his opinion she was suffering now, her quality of life must be virtually nil.

 

Obviously I wanted to see her and her x-rays for myself. She was indeed absolutely riddled with it. She’d only been sedated rather than fully put under & I was able to talk to her. I knelt at her head sobbing my heart out as I did so. Pam felt I’d done everything I could for her and was trying to be supportive but for some reason I pulled myself together a little & wanted to ring my Dad – I didn’t think I’d need to say it but just wanted to let him know it was time to say goodbye.

 

He’d read an article in Grace about an old farmer telling a couple of carrots curing a dogs lumps where veterinary help had failed & it had then gone onto work for them. He’s an old man himself, doesn’t believe in euthanasia and was convinced the vet just wanted the money. The comment including something like just bring her home, feed her lots of carrots and let nature take it’s course.

 

I so wanted to listen to him – anything to save her – but unlike him I’d seen her when she wasn’t dosed up with injections and I just couldn’t let her go through that pain again. I don’t know how much time passed, though Pam says at least half an hour, probably more. Jo had begun to come round more and though he tried not to show it I think the vet was beginning to get impatient. There was eventually a comment “I know your upset but we have to think of Jo now†I said nothing (my answer might have been very rude) as I was thinking of nothing but.

 

I already knew what I had to do but was just finding it hard to actually make that step. When shortly after he asked “are you going to let me do it Mr Reed?†I replied yes, “I’m expecting you to do it†but I’d happily have stayed there as we were. A couple of minutes later he stepped forward gave the injection and a couple more minutes later, after listening to her chest, confirmed “she’s gone nowâ€.

 

I was adamant that she’d be given a decent burial, not just burned like I burn rubbish and insisted despite the efforts of Pam & the vet to warn me of the task I’d set myself that we would go home together that one last time and she be buried as she was – Jo not ashen remains of her.

 

I hadn’t brought anything other than Jo & just wanted to gather her up and take her lead & collar, perhaps a last reminder of her, but a sheet was found and though they offered the help of a male nurse I insisted on carrying Jo out alone.

 

I’m not normally the type to fight unless someone picks one with me but as I carried Jo to my car two young lads (maybe early twenties) walked past us and said “ooh that’s a big dog†in a sarcastic sort of manner. I made it clear in no uncertain terms that they should shut and keep walking, two of them or not! They did indeed walk some yards before saying another word or I’d happily have laid her to rest in the car and then shut them up.

 

Tara was in the car and doesn’t tend to like people approaching it so it may, as Pam thought when I asked afterwards, have been Tara that they referred to but it would have been obvious to anyone what I was doing & I felt they were mocking poor Jo. Silence would surely have been more appropriate in either case.

 

 

Back home I picked a spot to lay Jo to rest, where Tara would not be walking or messing on her grave, removed the empty pond and dug deeper to give her a decent grave. My brother in law, John’s (he being away & me being useless at DIY) , brother in law agreed to make her a casket that evening, as he’d done for theirs in the past – a kind act I felt considering I’d only met him two or three times. Unexpected rubble, pipes etc meant the hole kept growing and it took me not only that afternoon, but 8 hours the following day and more time the following morning to complete a grave I was happy with. Much sobbing occurred as I went. Throughout this time each time I passed Jo I had to talk to her, I’d never have ignored her when she was alive and though she couldn’t hear me anymore this was after all still Jo that was laid there!

 

Jo was buried to the sounds of Bridge over troubled water (Simon & Garfunkel), Three times a lady (Lionel Ritchie) and You’re my best friend (Queen) on Thursday 23rd November 2006.

 

 

I wasn’t aware of the forums at that time but whilst looking for cancer information and help for Jo I’d come across a few sites of interest. German Shepherd Rescue and The Oldies Club had been two of these. In my immediate distress my concern was to see Jo remembered in some way & though not entirely understanding what these pages were used for I’d sent photo’s to both wanting her inserting in the memorial pages, though neither proved the right place. Another rescue, The Ark, which advertises through the Local media website has a page with various bereavement verses. I’d subsequently submitted one in an effort to help others who’d gone through this and she kindly offered to post Jo’s picture if I would like her to do so.

 

I did eventually find The Blue Cross pet memorial site and then later from a link hidden away on GSR, Dog Died sites which any of you who would like to place a lasting memorial to a loved and lost pet may like to see.

 

On German Shepherd Rescue, back in July there had been an appeal to send donations to a Walsall vets to help Joyce, an older dog whose appalling neglect was evident from the photos alone. She was however described as lovely natured. The look in her eyes had reminded me of Jo that first time I’d seen her so I’d wanted to help. Months on her mange had been treated and she was ready for a home, though no one had given her her chance. Leaving this poor dog to life in kennels would not bring Jo back again and it seemed such a fitting tribute to Jo that I could help another like her who was struggling to find their chance. I’d therefore enquired of Rosedene via email though only later found that the quoted web address & email were no longer maintained. Contacting GSR I was assured she was still looking, no one seemed interested in her but if I could help they could get her out of there. A home check was therefore requested and vets reference offered. In the meantime I found that Emma, a volunteer at Rosedene, had posted Joyce with The Oldies Club and made contact with her too.

 

There were a couple of other dogs locally, one a young dog at a local rescue, featured in a local free paper feature, and who we visited a few times but wasn’t friendly towards Tara & seemed weary of men. He was getting little interest despite being a lovely looking boy as he tended to bark at people a lot. My impression was it was a more nervous aggression than out & out nastiness & I wasn’t prepared to rush him. However whilst I did visit him several times in an effort to see if we could befriend him someone else eventually offered him a home before I went further.

 

There was also an 8 year old private re-homing I was aware of through work but again he was aggressive towards Tara & despite having mellowed a lot whilst she’s been with me she just won’t tolerate that. I would work with it over time but wouldn’t bring a dog into her home until it was sorted. We’ve been through a lot together & I don’t know what I’d have done without her when we lost Jo.

 

Whether we would go to three I wasn’t sure but there was never any question in my mind that if she needed a home & could get along with Tara Joyce would be joining us. On December 21st, just a month after saying goodbye to Jo we therefore set off to Walsall to see how the two of them would be together.

 

Joyce’s legs, despite her having shown an improvement under their care, were to be honest worse than I had expected. The following day back home she couldn’t walk two tenths of a mile at Tara’s pace without stumbling and on occasion falling. I had been warned by one of the staff that she may have hip displasia or arthritis though she’d been undergoing treatment for mange etc and there was no apparent veterinary suggestion of that and Emma & I both felt she needed to build up muscle.

 

However whilst not perfect together – Tara was fine but Joyce curled her lips and displayed her teeth like a fox each time Tara got nearer her face – I didn’t feel there were any major problems here and so Joyce came home to begin life afresh.

 

Subsequently after watching events it dawned on me that Joyce was actually defending herself from the attack she imagined was coming rather than being aggressive, though that in itself would then provoke Tara to defend herself.

 

Tara & Joyce had, “just for the first few nightsâ€, slept on my bedroom floor in case they fought and I needed to separate them quickly. But I enjoyed my time with them and 5 years later they were still there. I didn’t want Joyce to feel left out and so took her upstairs that first night. She didn’t settle and I let her leave. When I went to see where she’d wanted to be she was laid where she had been earlier in the night. Earlier Tara had left her dinner, Joyce had been eyeing it and I’d taken it away as I felt Tara may not like it if her dinner was taken by this stranger. I put it back down and went back to bed. She’d had a good sniff and look around Jo’s old chair when she came, I assumed scenting and trying to work out where the other one was. In the morning when Tara & I got up Joyce had claimed that chair and was fast asleep in it.

 

Joyce spent most of her time in her chair at first and it was two or three weeks before she barked though she’d done so at me when I first approached her kennel.

 

She started on chicken dinners, cod liver oil and some gentle exercise until one day she joined Tara’s traditional leaping around when she knows she is off to chase something having gone back into the lounge grabbed a ball and started tossing it around the kitchen. Just 10 days after she arrived Joyce was running. Rosedenes volunteers were shocked to see it when I sent the video clip and though she still needs to progress Joyce was beginning her fight back to how she should always have been

 

This is I think my favourite picture of Joyce – taken from that video clip it’s the end of her first run in months and doesn’t she look happy about it?

http://s176.photobucket.com/albums/w167/ia...nt=000_0173.flv

Edited May 21, 2007 by Ian

[JACKYSIAN]

I didn't intentially foster an oldie....I told WAW I wanted something cat friendly and dog friendly..they sent me the wonky old boy that is now Cooper and I of course took one look at the grey muzzle and those silly little legs and was head over heels in love!!!

 

I'm upto my limit with 4 dogs now, but I will definately not hesitate giving another oldie a home when I'm able.

Edited May 23, 2007 by JACKYSIAN

[Sef's Mum]

My first oldie came from Dog's Trust. Our eyes met through a wire fence. He was black, a bit bald in places and had half a yellow hedgehog on his nose. The staff obviously thought I'd change my mind when I found out he was 9 but he stoled my heart. He was a full on collie cross I named Seth and I had him till he was 17. He is still my soulmate.

 

And then I tried my hand at fostering for the Oldies Club. Very unsuccessfully. And now I have the delightful Grace (Alice).

 

She is a little bit of heaven on 4 feet and makes me smile just looking at her.

 

Ali

[wiccaweys]

By the way, how is it so many Collies reach such a great age? The only dogs I know of over 20 have all been Collies.

 

I wish I knew - if I could find out, we'd bottle it and give it out to everyone!

I'm convinced they are solar-powered! I think it is more likely they are too stubborn to get old, and are always looking for a job - so their brains stay active. And most collie owners let their collies stay active, and don't treat them as 'old dogs', so they don't become an old dog so quickly (I hope that makes sense)

 

This is one of our latest arrivals...

Kym - aged 22.

 

 

Kym loves other dogs and he travels very well. He pulls like a train on the lead and wants to walk at least a mile a day. He is very fond of playing ‘trains’ on his hind legs with his new best friend Whizza. He can c*** his leg as high as any of the youngsters! Kym enjoys ‘afternoon tea’, and makes a point of asking for his Fairy Cakes – a favourite snack! He is brilliant with people, and has a great sense of humour.

He doesn't think he is old!

 

He has his Auntie Whizzie bidding on tea at Granma Squirrels in the auction!

[Fee]

Wow, 22 That's amazing, and still really enjoying life by the sound of it

 

I heard today of a greyhound who has just died aged 20 (age confirmed by ear tatoos). I've never heard of a greyhound even close to that age before.

[buddyboy]

I had been on a course - my neighbour was looking after my 2 "mature" dogs and I had really missed them. On the way home I called in to Dogs Trust to see if there would be a problem getting another dog "when the time came". I wasn't really looking to adopt a 3rd dog, as I lived on my own, and worked full time in an office. I had a quick look round the kennels, and do remember seeing a certain boxer cross, and saying to him "sorry, but you're a bit big, Jake would bark at you". I was chatting to the lady in reception and we said about overlooked dogs (Jake was only about 2 when he came to me, but had been in the kennels there since he was 1). She mentioned Bud - told me his story about 3 attempts at rehoming but being returned each time - needless to say I asked to see him, and the boxer cross was brought up. We went for a little walk but he was more interested in the hedgerows, then back to reception where he behaved himself until someone brought some black bin bags in..... he had been living on the streets for some time before he was brought in the first time, so naturally bin bags = possible food and he kept trying to get them.... I told him to ignore them, he ignored me so I did what I would to the other 2 - picked him up to keep him still so I could continue my conversation. After a few minutes it dawned on me that I had only met this dog a short time before, and here I was holding him so his mouth was next to my neck! Needless to say the others came up to meet him 2 days later and he came home with us. He was around 10 at the time, so the only thoughts re age were that he was around the same as Emily (12) and Jake (11). The people who had homed and returned him before missed an absolute gem of a dog.... he was loving, became confident and had friends all over the country in the 3 years 10 months he had with me.

 

Bud was around (Emily and Jake had died, and he had become senior dog to Lucy Greyhound) and I was working from home when I started fostering for the Cinnamon Trust and Oldies Club. The other foster dogs were ok, but no heartstrings when they left. Alice was destined to live with a friend - she had seen her on the website, so when it was mentioned Alice was coming over and needed a foster home I volunteered to take her with that as an ulterior motive. My friend's dog sulked when she walked Alice, sulked when Alice visited his house, and generally made it clear he wanted to be an only dog..... by which time Alice had convinced me that she was meant to stay. She was about 8 then - and if she sees my friend's dog on the rec they all play together well, and he is happy for all of mine to visit his house - just not stay!

 

Bud died at the end of November 2006. I decided I would stay at 2 dogs for a while, however got a very strong urge to go to Dogs Trust one day - to drop off newspapers, not to look! The staff said how Bud had really lived life to the full with me, and I said if they had any more hard to home ones in future to let me know.... they just pointed to behind the reception desk, where there were 2 dogs. One was the size I prefer (Bud's size), one was an emaciated terrier, at least 10 years old, heart murmur, deaf, on medication as been very poorly. Even though he was still ill, they had a strong urge to put him in reception that day. Well, the girls (Lucy and Alice) accepted him, so the Wednesday before Christmas Toastie came home - he has since put on 2 kilos (to weigh 7 kilos, so you can imagine how scrawny he was), he is a complete menace and has to be put on a lead if anyone is playing football or cricket in the rec, otherwise he hurtles over to join in, he comes on long walks with us, and last Saturday came 4th in the Veterans Class at a fun show - which thrilled me and Dogs Trust after the state he was in last December.

 

The problem with old dogs in my house is that they don't realise they are meant to be old - they just join in everything and live life to the full!!!! Luckily I can just about keep up with them!

[doggielover]

 

This is Henry, EGLR had taken him in aged 10 1/2 from another rescue where he had been for 6 yrs and was at risk of being pts as unrehomeable. He had back problems and could be snappy if his back was touched.

 

He came to us on a month's trial as nobody quite knew how he would cope in a home environment. After 3 weeks we felt we had seen all the defensive behaviour he could offer and he was going nowhere! We had had him 18 months when he was diagnosed with Lung Cancer and given 9 to 12 months to live. We were so angry at how unfair this was, he was finally having a life and it was to be cut short. 6 months later he was diagnosed with Cancer in his blood vessels, a completely unrelated cancer to the one in his lungs. He died two weeks later.

 

Next came Archie and Lucky

 

Archie (the grey lad) was also 10 1/2 when his owner allegedly moved into rented accommodation. Archie left his home with nothing, no bed, food, toys and his owner even took his collar back! When contacted by the foster home to let them know Archie was settling in, they seem to have forgotten they were moving . Archie came to us in the September, as fate would have it in the following July he was diagnosed with Lymphoma a type of cancer. He started Steroids and the day after he started Chemo we found he had passed away in the night.

 

Lucky wasn't coming to us. She was 14 yrs old and her owner decided to move to Spain and "The dog's not going to stop me" He had originally taken her to the vet to be pts but they talked him into contacting rescue. He gave the rescue a week to take her in. It was arranged that she would go into foster in Plymouth but transport could not be arranged for the whole journey from her home in Wales. We were going to move a poundie from Wales that weekend so said she could come to us whilst a transport run could be arranged. She arrived very depressed with a distended stomach, drinking like a fish and slightly dodgy back legs. I took her to the vets as I thought she may have Cushings. Her tests came back clear. Lucky was so depressed at being abandoned by her owner

that she found it difficult to raise her spirits at all. It would take two of us to get her out of the dog bed and make her go for a walk, she would pick up for a while and then sink back into depression. Over the next 4 months her legs got worse, we put her on metacam, even borrowed a set of wheels to get her up and about, she hated them but it would lift her spirits to go to the park. She rapidly became incontinent, not something that worried us, we'd had incontinent dogs before, but she eventually couldn't or wouldn't get up. We let her go a week after we lost Archie.

 

Prior to Archie and Lucky we had had Trudy for 15 years, we lost her in the previous April. She had CDRM and also began fitting quite severely.

 

We haven't had any other permanent Oldies as losing 3 in 4 months hit us hard. We still have them in the house as HOPE rescue keep finding us old fogeys in the pound that need fostering.

 

Di

[JoT]

Thank you everyone for sharing your oldie heritage. I've really enjoyed reading your stories.

 

I can't believe Kym is 22 - absolutely amazing.

[billydog]

What lovely stories - thank you

 

I've been wondering if I might be able/suitable to foster, and I'd love to have an oldie around after losing 2 earlier this year. I'm really inspired and now considering this seriously.

[JoT]

What lovely stories - thank you

 

I've been wondering if I might be able/suitable to foster, and I'd love to have an oldie around after losing 2 earlier this year. I'm really inspired and now considering this seriously.

 

I'm sorry to hear that you lost 2 oldies this year but really pleased that you've been inspired to enquire about fostering oldies.

 

If you'd like to find out more about fostering for the Oldies Club, you need to contact Cindy (username staffymad).

 

Edited to say, there's more info here.

Edited May 30, 2007 by JoT

[billydog]

Thank you Jo

 

I'm going to have a really good proper think about whether I could offer a good foster home - I obviously need to be pretty sure I can manage an extra hound! If I decide I can I'll be contacting Cindy!!

[JoT]

Thank you Jo

 

I'm going to have a really good proper think about whether I could offer a good foster home - I obviously need to be pretty sure I can manage an extra hound! If I decide I can I'll be contacting Cindy!!

 

That sounds like a very sensible plan.

[Sams Mum]

We adopted our Oldie Boy via Freecycle! If you've never heard of it it's a worldwide recycling group - checkout your local group via the internet. Anyway, we had 2 cats and fostered for Cat protection. My husband had Westies when younger and I briefly had a dog at home. We wanted a dog to add to our family but wanted to wait until we could actually give it the time it deserved. Cats are easy and walk themselves but dogs need real commitment. SO when the kids were big enough we started talking about it. My husband loves Border Collies - I wasnt too fussed really. A nice Heinz 57 would do me - BUT it had to be good with older children and cats. Anyway, there I was browsing freecycle when someone started asking about did anyone have a dog for re-homing? A reply was posted from a family who are involved with the Oldies Club, saying why not adopt an older dog as they are harder to place. Right up our street - we always have the 'rejects'. If it has an eye missing or half a tail, it will be very welcome here. SO we visited the website and applied. We were told of a pair of dogs and a Staffie who were cat friendly and looking for homes. We didnt really want 2 dogs as for a start our car wouldnt be big enough to take them on holiday, so we asked to go and visit the Staffie. It was with some trepidation.....after all, they have a reputation and have been known to eat the inhabitants of small countries haven't they???? WE bimbled along to Milton Keynes and met Sam and his Foster Mum. I was suprised - he seemed quite OK and didnt growl/bark/remove anyone's limbs etc. His Foster Mum put us at ease and we took him for a walk, played with him and generally got to know each other. We weren't able to take him there and then - which was good as we all go to discuss if we were ALL happy to adopt him. The kids were concerned, would he be OK with the Cats (who we all loved so much?), my husband was concerned, he too had fallen prey to the reputation fostered by the media generally about Staffies. I, unfortunately or fortunately, was in love. All arguments were put to bed and I reasured everyone that it would be just fine. 3 weeks later we brought our boy home. After about 12 hours he was being threatened with the local taxidermist. He woke up on the hour, every hour to cry, howl, whine....I had a few days off but was knackered. Surely he ought to just curl up and sleep??? Luckily Cindy rang and reassured me, then I rang his foster mum who also reassurred me. Within 24 hours he had settled and his taxidermy appointment was cancelled. And now? Well, my reluctant husband now adores Staffies - wouldnt swap him for the world, 'What a fantastic breed!' he says (to anyone who will listen), and he and Sam are devoted to each other. Find one and you'll find the other. Wether Steve is fixing his motorbike or in the bath, Sam is about a foot away. I do remind Sam that I was the one who actually wanted him in the first place, so his devotion ought to be directed at me BUT he just gives me Staffie eyes, licks my nose and goes off to find his dad.

Sam adores the cats, is good with the chickens (only chases them every so often) and just loves anyone who visits. We wouldnt be without him. The support we received from the Oldies Club was just brilliant. As I am typing this Sam is curled up on the sofa. No matter how long we have our boy for, we are very blessed to have found him.

[staffymad]

We adopted our Oldie Boy via Freecycle! If you've never heard of it it's a worldwide recycling group - checkout your local group via the internet. Anyway, we had 2 cats and fostered for Cat protection. My husband had Westies when younger and I briefly had a dog at home. We wanted a dog to add to our family but wanted to wait until we could actually give it the time it deserved. Cats are easy and walk themselves but dogs need real commitment. SO when the kids were big enough we started talking about it. My husband loves Border Collies - I wasnt too fussed really. A nice Heinz 57 would do me - BUT it had to be good with older children and cats. Anyway, there I was browsing freecycle when someone started asking about did anyone have a dog for re-homing? A reply was posted from a family who are involved with the Oldies Club, saying why not adopt an older dog as they are harder to place. Right up our street - we always have the 'rejects'. If it has an eye missing or half a tail, it will be very welcome here. SO we visited the website and applied. We were told of a pair of dogs and a Staffie who were cat friendly and looking for homes. We didnt really want 2 dogs as for a start our car wouldnt be big enough to take them on holiday, so we asked to go and visit the Staffie. It was with some trepidation.....after all, they have a reputation and have been known to eat the inhabitants of small countries haven't they???? WE bimbled along to Milton Keynes and met Sam and his Foster Mum. I was suprised - he seemed quite OK and didnt growl/bark/remove anyone's limbs etc. His Foster Mum put us at ease and we took him for a walk, played with him and generally got to know each other. We weren't able to take him there and then - which was good as we all go to discuss if we were ALL happy to adopt him. The kids were concerned, would he be OK with the Cats (who we all loved so much?), my husband was concerned, he too had fallen prey to the reputation fostered by the media generally about Staffies. I, unfortunately or fortunately, was in love. All arguments were put to bed and I reasured everyone that it would be just fine. 3 weeks later we brought our boy home. After about 12 hours he was being threatened with the local taxidermist. He woke up on the hour, every hour to cry, howl, whine....I had a few days off but was knackered. Surely he ought to just curl up and sleep??? Luckily Cindy rang and reassured me, then I rang his foster mum who also reassurred me. Within 24 hours he had settled and his taxidermy appointment was cancelled. And now? Well, my reluctant husband now adores Staffies - wouldnt swap him for the world, 'What a fantastic breed!' he says (to anyone who will listen), and he and Sam are devoted to each other. Find one and you'll find the other. Wether Steve is fixing his motorbike or in the bath, Sam is about a foot away. I do remind Sam that I was the one who actually wanted him in the first place, so his devotion ought to be directed at me BUT he just gives me Staffie eyes, licks my nose and goes off to find his dad.

Sam adores the cats, is good with the chickens (only chases them every so often) and just loves anyone who visits. We wouldnt be without him. The support we received from the Oldies Club was just brilliant. As I am typing this Sam is curled up on the sofa. No matter how long we have our boy for, we are very blessed to have found him.

 

Thanks Michelle and Family for giving our Sam a second chance in life Now where are those pictures you promissed?

 

Cindy

[Fee]

Hiya Sams Mum, great that you have joined us! I'm the mad Feecycle person that is pushing everyone in Swindon to adopt older dogs

 

Sam sounds so lovely - you really will have to bring him along to one of our events/dogwalks one day so we can meet him!