Unleashed: Southern Oregon Pet Blog

“Bless the beasts and the children.” As the Mail Tribune courts, social services and pets reporter, this song goes through my head a lot.

Working these beats – and because of my former life as a vet assistant and stable manager – I know kids and animals are consistently put in harm’s way due to the poor decisions and actions of adults.

But sometimes it’s easy to point a finger, and not so easy to find a solution. 

Two horses broke down on the track at Grants Pass Downs on opening day and had to be humanely euthanized. Preventing tragedies like these is something we’d all like to see happen. Track surfaces must be properly maintained. Horses that are ill, injured or simply past their racing expiration date should not be put to the test.

Six horses died due to injuries they suffered racing on the half-mile track during the Downs’ last two abbreviated racing seasons. Officials keep no records on the number of horses that suffer career-ending or even fatal injuries during training.

The Oregon Racing Commission gave the track an ultimatum last fall – fix the track or stop racing. A $225,000 resurfacing effort ensued. That’s a lot of money for supporters of the small track to come up with, especially in this economy.

By all accounts there have been major positive changes made to the track’s footing. But horses are still dying.

The reasons are myriad: breeding, training, husbandry, age, unknown or unattended injuries - and sheer physics. If you twist your ankle walking at 3 mph, you can stop quickly. If you are running in excess of 30 mph, it takes time to stop. A 1,000-pound body in motion tends to stay in motion, even when a misstep happens. And every step creates more damage.

There are people who abhor racing as a barbaric practice. There are people who will defend it to their dying breath. Those who engage in cutting, trail, endurance and other activities shouldn’t get on their high horses. Horses get injured in the hunter, jumper and dressage worlds, too.

For me, there are few joys to compare to being one with a horse. There are great life lessons to be learned in all equine sports. But there is also a fair amount of cruelty, neglect and abuse.

Horses are expensive to keep when they are “useful” and well. Imagine their lives when they are neither. And I have my opinion about who gets the short end of the stick when money, egos and animals collide.

Here’s another part of the deal: No matter how much we may love our horses, the reality is we keep them in very unnatural environments, and in a manner that is counter to their biology. Most live in a box stall or small turnout pen when not under saddle. They are fed flakes of dried hay (or pressed alfalfa cubes) at intervals convenient for humans, not horses. All of this is far from the free-ranging state nature intended for a horse.

I’ve seen horses get injured and die simply standing in their stalls.

Don’t get me wrong; I am not advocating turning all domesticated horses out onto the American plains. Or even local pastures. I have seen my share of starving ponies. And, sadly, they can also suffer fatal injuries racing across open fields in the wild.

I guess what I’d like to see is every horse treated with as much respect, care and consideration as we’d like to receive – were we born with four legs and a flowing mane.

I love dogs. All kinds of dogs. Big ones. Little ones. Long coats. Short coats. Purebred or Heinz 57 mutt. They’re all beloved bundles of unconditional love.

But there is a special place in my heart for service dogs, and the folks who train them. I was searching for some information on a recent fundraiser for Dogs for the Deaf,  when I stumbled across this video of Ricochet. 

What’s this? A surfing dog? Hmm. Not related to our local service dog organization. Not what I was hunting for. Nevertheless, I was intrigued enough to hit the play button.

A 5-week old golden retriever pup came into view. The little fellow was crawling along on his tummy, following his trainer’s cues and destroying my composure. Within moments I was bawling in the newsroom.

Ok, so I am a self-avowed wienie. But I challenge just about anyone to watch the trajectory of this success to failure to success story without getting verklempt too.As a friend who posted the video said, there’s a message here for everyone.

Rock on Ricochet. And thanks again to the selfless heroes who help train these dogs.

By the way, Dogs for the Deaf’s annual dogwalk event in Medford’s Hawthorne Park last Saturday had 250 attendees and raised $40,000 for the non-profit. Way to go!  

In over 30 years, Dogs for the Deaf has rescued and placed over 3,000 dogs in homes as Hearing Dogs, Miracle Mutts (Special Dogs for Special People), Harmony’s Hounds (Dogs with Special Needs), and Career Change Dogs. In keeping with this tradition, the organization has started a pilot Autism Assistance Dog Program. This program allows for the rescue and training of more dogs, specifically more large dogs.

You have to love a gig where your day involves a drive in the country to meet a 700-lb Yorkshire swine named Lisa.

Monday’s visit to Sanctuary One’s latest rescued critter began with a 30-minute cruise through the beautiful Applegate Valley to the 55-acre Double Oak Farm. Upon arrival, photographer Bob Pennell and I were greeted by Sansa Collins, caretaker extraordinaire.

We patted ponies and waded through a herd of curious goats on our way to meet the wayward swine who’d been rescued in January from an irate Washington farmer and transported to Sanctuary One on May 10.

Lisa emerged from the barn’s murky shadows like a slow rolling pink and white cloud. She headed straight toward me. I stood my ground, but my heart skipped a beat or two. After all, more than 700 pounds of pig was tiptoeing in my direction.

I knew Lisa was newly arrived at the sanctuary. I didn’t know if I’d be percieved as friend or foe. I remember wishing I’d taken that swine production class at Cal Poly Pomona after all as I was looking at her giant mouth. Out of my mouth came babble.

“Look at the size of those ears!” I said. “Her ear is bigger than my head! And I have a huge head!” 

Happily, Lisa overlooked my rude comments. It was quickly apparent, in Lisa’s mind, I was not the enemy. I was a potential bearer of treats. My reporter’s notebook was given a wet snuffle before Lisa’s keen nose sniffed out it was actually Sansa who’d brought the party snacks – peanuts and some apple slices.

Lisa ended up on the cover of the Mail Tribune. The “oohs,” “aaahs” and inevitable bacon-on-the-cloven-hoof jokes ensued. But Sansa assures me that folks are touched enough to fork over donations for Lisa’s continued care.

If you’d like to help, please call Sansa at 899-8627.

“It’s raining men! Hallelujah!” I know. I know. But the musical earworm is worth it. For, by all reports, a good time was had by all – and all for a good cause.

Local bachelors recently agreed to participate in the “It’s Raining Men” auction - all proceeds to benefit Sanctuary One at Double Oak Farm in the Applegate.

Sanctuary One states their trifold mission is to rescue domesticated animals, facilitate health and wellness in humans and promote environmental stewardship of the land.  

Two dozen brave beaus got into the spirit of the evening and strutted their stuff, said Patti Davis, one of the event’s organizers.

“They came alive!,” Davis said. “They were high-fiving each other. And some of the runaway walks were quite memorable.”

Micah Dubeau, given a bachelor moniker of “Cuddly But Bad,” was described in the program as a “energetic, ambitious young loan officer.” The Army veteran also enjoys travel, piano, athletics and eating, “not necessarily in that order.”

Davis said Dubeau dropped on the catwalk and gave the ladies a look at his guns.

“He started doing one-armed push-ups,” Davis said. “Those girls went wild!”

(Note to self: You are so going to this gig next year!)

Dubeau and the rest of the bachelors gave previews of the date they had in store for the winning bidder.

Matthew “Must Love Dogs” Sorenson, the “Steve Martin of wine-making,” promised a tandem hang-gliding  adventure off Woodrat Mountain, with a hopeful landing at Longsword Vineyards for wine tasting.

The bachelors ”sold” for between $350 and $400 on average, Davis said.

The funds raised will be used as seed money to get a cage-free dog kennel and adoption center started. The final cost is expected be $50,000. To help, please contact www.sanctuaryone.org or call 541-899-8627.  For more information visit info@sanctuaryone.org.

Josephine County Animal Control got a reprieve in the form of a cash infusion into their starving budget. Good news for the animals in our neighboring county who now have a better shot at a new home.

Inadequate funding had the shelter headed towards shortened hours of operation, less adoptions, and more deaths for the shelter inhabitants.

But a last minute reprieve in the form of a $75,000 budget boost - which will help pay for another staff member – means the shelter may not have to euthanize more dogs and cats.

According to news reports, the shelter had been struggling to maintain services since the county removed it from the general fund in 2006, effectively cutting its $271,000 annual budget in half.

Both Josephine and Jackson County’s Animal Care and Control shelters rely solely on license and adoption fees to maintain operations. Unfortunately, only about 50 percent of dog owners license their pets. That leaves a significant financial shortfall. 

Last week Josephine County Budget Committee members voted in favor giving Animal Control the funds in the 2010-2011 budget, which will allow them to hire another officer and purchasing another vehicle.

I call this good news. How about you?

News that Josephine County Animal Control may have to euthanize more dogs and cats is the tragic answer to a negative fiscal equation.

Inadequate funding = shortened hours of operation = less adoptions = more animals euthanized.

According to news reports, the shelter has been struggling to maintain services since the county removed it from the general fund in 2006, effectively cutting its $271,000 annual budget in half.

Like Jackson County’s Animal Care and Control shelter, our neighboring shelter relies solely on license and adoption fees to maintain operations.

Unfortunately, only about 50 percent of dog owners license their pets. That leaves a significant financial shortfall. Public Health Director Belle Shepherd is asking the county for about $75,000 from the general fund to hire an additional enforcement officer and purchase another vehicle to help cover the 1,642-square-mile county.

Unless the Josephine County commissioners - or a generous public - kick in the difference, the shelter will have to prioritize its duties and focus on enforcement. Meaning less hours open for adoption. Meaning more animals will be euthanized.

When times are tough for humans, they are generally tougher for animals. Jackson County’s shelter recently hired a compliance officer to help get back on track with its own revenue stream via dog licenses.

A lot of people – and I used to be one of them – have a certain resistance to paying for dog licenses. After all, if one is a responsible owner and one’s dog is properly contained and cared for, why pony up money to the county for a little jangly tag? At least that was my thinking.

Well, for one thing it’s the law. More importantly, that tag saves lives. Not only does it make it more likely your dog will get safely home should he or she stray or get stolen, that money pays for staffing and services necessary in support of all the unfortunate dogs and cats who are not lucky enough to have responsible owners.

Found a cracked egg in the gravel driveway at my riverside cottage this week. It was a big white sucker, dropped there by the duck who laid it – or a critter who’d tried to scavage it.

Sometimes the young ducks haven’t caught on to nest-building or the responsibilities of motherhood. Many times I have witness a squat, drop and run. Poor orphaned eggie.

Othertimes I have seen the evidence of a raided nest. Crows, skunks, raccoons, otters and others abound.

For two days, the cracked egg simply sat where it landed. Never to hatch was a certainty. But never to be eaten? It was starting to look that way.

Then Wednesday morning as I headed off to work, I saw the egg had been neatly cracked in two. Each pearly half of the shell was neatly sitting licked clean of every bit of yolk and white. Two tiny bowls rocking in the a.m. breeze.

At least the egg had not died in vain. 

Thursday I was gifted with a box of farm fresh eggs from a dear friend. One of the chicken eggs had cracked enroute to the Growers Market and she couldn’t sell them. 

I took the graciously offered carton back to the newsroom to share with my cohorts. But before I entered the building, I tossed the dented egg out into the parking lot.

I’d spied a watchful crow sitting on a nearby telephone pole. As the egg hit the asphalt with a splat, and the shell cracked into two halves.

Crow whipped his head around and let out a loud “Caw!” Clearly excited, he fluffed his feathers and rubbed his beak on the pole. He didn’t descend while I watched. But the egg – and the shell halves - were gone when I left work that night.

In this week’s Southern Oregon Journal column, I wrote about the dangers – to humans and animals - of giving live chicks, ducklings and bunnies to the kiddos for Easter.

I may have seemed kinda “preachy” in the column. But quite frankly, my dear, I don’t give a rat’s patootie. My hope is that an advisory column (and blog) on this topic becomes unnecessary before next the Easter egg rolls into town.  

Let me be clear, I’m not anti-pet. And I think it’s fine and dandy to acquire a long-wished-for, and planned for, critter on a holiday. But make sure you’ve done your homework.

Please do not treat these innocents like expendable wind-up toys. These are living, breathing beings. Unfortunately the life expectancy of the vast majority of these poor Easter babies is about as long as an egg-salad sandwich.

Fortunately, most folks agreed with my view on this trend that needs to end. I received a letter from a regular reader thanking me for speaking out.

The woman wrote that she had been “cringing and running out of stores” where they were selling — or worse, giving away — chicks. 

She’s complained to no avail. If they were giving away puppies and kittens with bags of food during the breeding season, the public or at least the local shelters would rise up and complain and demand an end to this practice, she said. 

It’s interesting how this virtual baby animal sacrifice usually occurs during holidays preaching about peace and love, she said.

 Interesting observation, Sally.

The Oregon Attorney General’s office is warning scammers are working a free-puppy program. Sometimes the ad offers a free puppy. Sometimes it says a purebred dog needs a new home.

The scam works like this: Although the dogs are “free,” the seller will ask to be wired money to ship the dogs safely. Some victims have even gone to the airport to pick up their new pets only to discover the scam.

Another version of the puppy scam involves a con artist posing as a “puppy mill rescue group.” These offers claim to have rescued a batch of purebred puppies from a puppy mill, when in reality it is the puppy mill operator itself posting the ad.

A recent version of the “puppy scam” offered two registered English Bulldogs “free to a good home.” I recieved a e-mail here at the Muddy Tributary, asking about our rates to run such an ad.

An editor at another paper forwarded the same e-mail to the AG. And they’re sending out the warning.

The puppy scam relies on the best intentions of animal lovers.

For more information about other puppy scams, and expert advice on humane pet adoption, please check out the ASPCA Web site.

Anyone who believes he or she has been approached by a scammer should call the Oregon Department of Justice Consumer Hotline at 1-877-877-9392 or go to the Department’s Web site: www.oregonattorneygeneral.gov.

Sorry to be so long away from the keyboard. 

I promise I wasn’t having any fun. Certainly not reclining on some sunny, sandy beach - holding an over-sized glass that contains too much fruit for the amount of alcohol.

Nope. Not me. I’ve been home sick with the Dreaded Gungybungus going around the Rogue Valley for the past several weeks.

My version of the particularly nasty respiratory buggy arrived atop some chemical irritant I inhaled in smoke or fumes. The medical types are still debating what made sucking in enough oxygen so dodgey for the past few weeks. But they did agree on treatment requiring tons of antibiotics, steroids, rescue inhalers and breathing treatments etc.

I’ll spare you the gory sounds of my lungs’ party track. But my African Grey won’t. The fiendish parrot delights in mimicry most foul.

“Hack..hack.. hack..wheeeeezeeee…” Gaia spews. 

Followed by a pathetic gasping whimper. “Oh geez.”

The capper of this performance is a snarky chuckle. 

All of it is in my own voice. All of it. Brat bird.

There is something about having a pet who can – and will - mock you when you’re at your most vulnerable that adds to the humiliation of being puny.

Thankfully, not all of Gaia’s recent mimicry attempts are aimed at me. There is a new bird call she’s discovered. It’s like a slide whistle that goes up – then down. Almost like a wolf whistle. But different.

I think she’s rockin’ the robins.