More Progress

Today is a gorgeous day. It has been disgusting and cloudy for a week, and I am loving this sunshine.

Yesterday, I took Walter to the local state park rec area and we walked the mile loop and went along the beach. There is still a lot of snow, especially along the water, and I was sinking to my knees in some places! Walter did fantastically, even though he got quite tired by the end. Of course people stopped us like they always do, to ask if Walter is hurt. One guy fell in love with him, and some lady was totally rude and said, "Now that's an old puppy. I bet he's at least ten to twelve years old." It was more in the way she said it that bothered me, especially considering she was not even very close to us. She may have said this because of the way he walks. He was at the end of a steady mile with one bad leg, and he has a delicate sense of balance. If she only knew the progress he has made.

This afternoon I decided to walk the girls, which is never an easy feat. Reagan is generally terrible on a leash unless she is wearing a prong collar. A lot of people think that's a cruel method of walking, but it has been the only thing to work for Reagan. Alan and I also did some testing on ourselves with it before we used it on the dogs to get an idea of what it feels like at different strengths.

I was ready to go, leashes in hand, and Reagan began jumping up and down, barked right in my face, and even nipped my hand because she was so excited to play. Quincy is a little easier to get the leash on. I left Walter in the kennel assuming he was too tired to go for a walk, not wanting to bother his joints and wanting to give him some recovery from our walk yesterday. Well, I'm out of the driveway and on my way with Quincy and Reagan, when Walter started barking. I kept walking and he started to bark again, so I went back and got him too.

Amazingly, this expedition was not a disaster, and I walked Walter farther than he has ever gone on our standard route. He was very tired at the end and had to take a lot of breaks once we reached the fields leading to our backyard, but the fact that he had enough energy and strength to go two days in a row is huge progress! I think I am going to start taking him on shorter walks to build up his strength, and see if he can get to going one mile without struggling at the end. Either way, I'm thrilled that he was able to do SO well today.

After our walk, Quincy and Reagan got some time in with the Chuck-It, the greatest invention for high energy dog owners. With the Chuck-It, we can throw the ball farther than with just the arm, and the rubber balls that are made by the same company are lighter and fly better. They also bounce when they hit the ground, so if the dogs don't see the ball right away, it bounces back up. Quincy is so fast that she beats Reagan every time, but Reagan always runs back and forth. Because Quincy is so fast, we have to either trick Quincy or give Reagan her own retrieving time.

The pack is now sound asleep, all basking in the sunshine of the living room, happy and content.

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Walter: One Year Later

Dear Walter,

Today is the eve of your observed birthday, marking one year since picked you up from that dog pound in southern Ohio. It's hard to believe you were headed to a gas chamber, especially when I look at you now. The days leading up to your rescue were emotionally exhausting, due to not thinking clearly, longing for another 'velcro' dog, and trying to make Alan understand that I wanted another dog not to replace Wembley, but to make something good come out of her passing. Then I saw your face five days before I met you, on Dogs in Danger. I emailed golden retriever rescues about you, trying to get you out, but nobody got in touch with me, and now I'm so happy they didn't. I know now that Wembley picked you out just for us.


I will always remember that drive, leaving in the middle of the night with Molly, my heart racing and pounding with adrenaline and worry that you might already be disposed of on accident by the time I got there. Molly and I trembled as we entered the windowless pound where they were hosing your cage down. In a silent gesture we held out our hands to show each other how much we were shaking, how anxious we were to grab you and Ava and get out of there, far away from such a sad place.

While Molly met Ava, I met you. You were so eager to be loved and held, and you were a mess: dirty, matted, and sporting a big eye tumor and an eye infection. Doubt crossed my mind if I had what it takes to rehabilitate someone with so many special needs, but I kept going, because I knew the moment I saw your photo that we had to be together.


Now it's a year later, and you have overcome an abundance of challenges that crossed your path:

Scared of men
Scared of going out in public
Scared of the bed
Scared of most people in general
Going up and down flights of steps
Crippling shyness
Confining yourself to the dog bed when scared

Sometimes I wonder what happened to your leg, and what happened to you to make you so terrified, but we both know it's better left a mystery. What really matters is the bond we share and the trust you have in me. Sometimes I can't believe how much I love you. It's often overwhelming in the best way. I think about people who passed you up, including pound volunteers who commented on your sweetness. You were so special to them that they put an ad for you in the newspaper, yet nobody came around or stepped up to take you home, and now I know this is because you were waiting for me. You're lucky, but I'm even luckier because I get to love you and take care of you for the rest of your life.

I love you, Walter. Happy Birthday!

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Feeding Time At the Zoo

It's no surprise that I am often asked this question: How do you feed all of those animals? Not meaning the cost, but meaning the method. It is not easy, but now that I'm working from home, we have a pretty good system that the dogs and cats are used to. In fact, they are so used to it that if I decide to sleep in, it just doesn't happen, because they wake me up, ready to eat.

The cats do not sleep with us. I feel bad about this, because Piper loved sleeping on my legs, and Aurora prefers to sleep on Alan's back. With Quincy sleeping with us now, and Walter's new habit of jumping into bed with us early in the morning (he prefers his orthopedic dog bed), and Reagan above the pillows, the bed is quite full. Rhoda is the reason we can't have the cats in the room. She is so affectionate and purrs constantly. Touch her, she purrs. Her favorite place to sleep is snuggled up to either one of our necks. Her purr is just too loud and she is too pushy with her snuggling to get any sleep, so now we keep the door closed. I did catch Rhoda and Piper sleeping in a ball on the chair, so I know they are okay with it.

Moving on- the morning is hectic. The earlier I get up, the better, because if it's too early the dogs won't be crazy and ready to go. Around seven-thirty or eight, they start to get antsy, hungry, and ready to go outside. Anything earlier than that they will sleep.

The dogs go outside first thing, and while they're doing their business and romping around, I keep an eye on them (we don't have a fence) and feed the cats. This is where I need some fine tuning. The cats act like they are dying of starvation in the morning, and surround me until I feed them. Aurora gets fed in the bathroom because she eats soft food (she's a diva and refuses hard food most of the time), while Piper and Rhoda eat in the kitchen or on the cat tree. While they eat, I prepare the dog bowls.

The dogs have a vitamin routine and they all eat different portions of food. I measure those out, put them in the bowls (Reagan eats out of a barrier bowl so she doesn't eat too fast), put the vitamins in the right bowls (They have three of the same, but Walter and Reagan have a couple additional vitamins for joints), and mix in a little bit of soft food for Walter, because he's as fussy as Wembley was and doesn't like eating his vitamins without something tasty. By the time all of this happens, the dogs are ready to eat and usually gathered on the back porch.

I let the hungry trio in, and they get fed. They are used to this system now, and if they stray from it they get frustrated and act crazy, as Alan usually finds out on the weekends (he gives me a feeding break).

Night feeding is WAY easier, because they usually get a treat here and there, and they're worn out from playing.

Sometimes it feels like madness, but in general it is a good system. I want to find an easier way to feed the cats. I won't just plunk a bowl of food down in the basement and have them free feeding all day, but I'm thinking a lunch portion is needed when the dogs are outside, just to alleviate their dramatic antics!

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The Chi Pack in 2010

Things sure have changed with our pack in 2010, for the good and bad.
On January 18th, 2010, our angel left us. It has been difficult for us to adjust with life without her, but more for Reagan than anyone else.


On February 18th, we rescued Walter. He was scared, abused, had an eye tumor, wasn't fully housebroken, and didn't know any tricks at all. He didn't like men. He dove onto the dog bed shelf the first time we brought him to Petsmart, because he wanted to hide. He peed everywhere out of fear. He was nearly euthanized in a dog pound, scared and alone.


Today, Walter is truly an amazing dog! He is sweet and loving, and has been my therapy dog this year. When I'm in a panic about Wembley, I look at him and know he is the silver lining. He isn't afraid of men as much as he was before. He loves children. His eye tumor has been removed, and his coat is long and beautiful. He begs for food when he shouldn't. He knows how to sit now, and he is fully housebroken. He runs and plays with the girls. He is finally just being a DOG. And most importantly, he is alive. He is happy. Above all, he is loved.

In April we adopted Aurora. It took her a day to adjust to being in a new house. She loves dogs, and likes Rhoda, but is still a little lukewarm with Piper. Piper wants to be friends, and can't seem to figure out why Aurora is such a queen. Because of her deafness, she is fearless. Alan is her favorite.

In August, we rescued Rhoda from the evil gas chamber at animal control. She is thriving in kittenhood after a little bit of a rough start due to a kitty cold and a case of fleas (luckily, they were gone before she came home and we did not have an infestation!). Rhoda is very affectionate and purrs constantly!

Reagan is healthier than ever. She's lean, strong, and hasn't had any episodes with her hip dysplasia since we found out she had it. I credit this to a regiment of glucosamine, good dog food, vitamins, and exercise. She is more of a "bad dog" now that Wembley isn't here to provide a good example, but that's part of Reagan's charm.

Piper is loving having Rhoda as a playmate. They are best friends. Piper has been an incredible mother figure to Rhoda too, teaching her the ways of the cat world. It's hard to believe Piper is only a year and half old. She's thriving and active, but still a skittish around strangers.

We're looking forward to another thriving new year, full of health, love, and lots of treats. :)

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Do All Things With Love

We spent a lovely weekend relaxing at the cabin. It just happened to fall on the 18th, which marked eight months since Wembley and seven months since adopting Walter. While we have a large yard and the dogs are not suffering for any major outdoorsy time, they sure love being at the cabin. Reagan and Quincy especially enjoy chasing the mule, and Walter always finds some lucky curve of the earth to nestle in as a makeshift bed.

We had a bonfire, lit fireworks, did a lot of reading, stayed warm by the wood stove fire, and gave the pups a special treat- cranberry and pumpkin biscotti with meat and vegetables on top. They all nibbled on fresh pumpkin too; a very nutritious and tasty treat.


There is a photo on the table of this family I married into, taken on another weekend where we all worked on odds and ends. Wembley is in this photo, for it was taken back when it was just our golden girls. Wembley and Reagan are not looking at the camera, but have their heads tilted to the side, in the same direction, which seems appropriate in a melancholy way. Wembley loved the cabin and enjoyed many fine days there.



Even though our pack has changed, we felt Wembley all around us, knowing she is the reason we are so lucky to have Walter, Reagan, and Quincy. We fell in so much love with Wembley that we opened our home to these other loving creatures one at a time, and because of that, she will always be around, as will each one after.


This weekend we watched as Reagan, riddled with hip dysplasia, ran and ran some more. She also swam and retrieved the stick with such force, her muscles bulging and flexing with every step and paddle. Earlier this year, the vet said Reagan was healthier now than she ever has been in her life. This is all thanks to endless hours of research and reading that Wembley's awful disease provided us with. Thanks to Wembley, Reagan is in the best health of her life.

Quincy tagged along with her sister, and she swam for the very first time this weekend. Before, she was scared. Now she jumps right in. I can't help but feel so grateful for this little one. Quincy ensured that Reagan would never be without a playmate. She distracted Reagan as we drove hours back and forth in the middle of the night for emergency vet visits with Wembley. She brought Reagan's smile back.

Walter stunned us this weekend with his abilities. We saw him run- and I mean really running as fast as his disability will allow, and he was quite fast! No, he can't go far, but he did it, and he was very proud. Walter climbed a hill too, and rode in the back of the mule on his dog bed without jumping out or being terrified. He showed us trust and an ability to survive and love and overcome in the way that only a dog can.

So many people put a cap on how much love should be designated for a particular person or thing. Like you should love your children more than your pet, and love your children more than your spouse, and love your spouse more than your parents, or love your million dollar home more than the thousand dollar trailer you had before you made the big money. All of this logic is ridiculous. Do all things with love, and love as much as you want. There is nothing wrong with loving your child or spouse or parent as much as you love your dog, your cat, ferret, horse, or rat. If we didn't love as much as we do, Reagan may have never bounced back to life from losing her best friend. Walter would be long gone from this world, and Quincy might still be at the rescue, waiting for a forever home.

All of the love you give to a pet, you will get back a million times over, without conditions. Now that is true love!

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Walter: Six Months Later

It's hard to believe Walter has been here for six months tomorrow, August 18th. It's a bittersweet day. Wembley passed away on January 18th. Just typing that out makes my eyes brim with tears. I avoid saying those words. Because of this, Walter is incredibly special to me. Even though we still had Reagan and Quincy during the first month of Wembley's absence, my heart was unbearably empty. Wembley was always by my side, in my lap, pawing at me, laying on me, snuggling with me, and sleeping nose to nose with me. She was my best friend. And this shy golden chow boy popped up on Dogs in Danger.

I never thought I would have a boy dog, but when I saw Walter's face, the thought of him dying alone, disabled and without a family, just destroyed me. By adopting Walter, there would be some sort of silver lining to the tragedy of Wembley.

Now, the odd part of this story is Walter's name. At the pound, his name was "Pops". In January, when Wembley was still alive, my sister took a cat home from work that nobody wanted. She was trying to find a home for the cat, and was taking name suggestions. It was a boy cat, so I told her to name him Walter. The cat ended up being called Guido, but I still had the name Walter bouncing around in my head for some reason.

Flash forward to the 14-hour round trip drive my sister and I made to the dog pound, and we were thinking of names. I tried calling Walter a bunch of typical dog names, like Max, Rusty, and so on, but he didn't respond to any of them. That's when I realized the reason the name Walter was floating in my head for over a month, and it stuck.He was terrified of people, but wanted affection. He had a nasty accident in the car because he was so scared, only a block away from the dog pound, and later repeated this in the bathtub. Walter was scared to eat, but hungry, and shyly ate the heaping bowl of tasty wet dog food I set down in front of him. He was so scared of everything that Alan and I had to actually carry him everywhere for the first night. I took him to the vet the next day, and even then I had to carry him out of the house and into the car, which he hated. On the drive there, I cried and cried, not sure if Walter was even going to make it. The vet concluded he was in excellent health, and just being a stubborn Chow Chow.

Slowly, Walter began being rehabilitated. I don't know if he was ever potty trained, because he had several accidents in the house in the first months, but with a strict schedule and crate training, he is now fully housebroken and crate trained. He is still a little timid with certain things, and carries that dominant Chow Chow trait of not liking a change in his schedule. Walter doesn't like new men, but warms up to them when he knows they're nice. He loves children, and he no longer tries to hide in the dog beds or toy bins when we take him to the pet store.


I hope he is having the best time of his life. We may have saved Walter, but I'll never be able to repay him for what he has done for me. Walter is my therapy dog in this nightmare of losing Wembley. He is loyal and kind, sits by me, snuggles with me, and just loves me the way that only a dog can do: unconditionally. He may have been a reject at the dog pound, but in this house he is a royalty. Our silver lining, and so much more.

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A New Summer

For the first time in eight years, we are going to the UP without Wembley. Actually, something very monumental is happening when we will be away: July 4th marks eight years to the day that we brought our beautiful girl home. Alan will still be camping on Isle Royale, leaving me alone to process and question something that started eating away our little baby. Even if I had every clinical answer, I would still be asking why this happened when it did.

This trip will mark our first time in the UP with our new pack. It will be Walter's first time up there, and Quincy's first time as a nearly adult dog, and Reagan's first time without Wembley. I'm hoping Q will learn how to swim and not be afraid of the water, and that Walter will use his life jacket and enjoy some freedom from the pressure of his bad leg. There will be all sorts of fun things for them to explore, other pups to meet, and romping around with their pup cousins, Zeke and Honey. All I want is for them to have fun, because every once in awhile Reagan slips into "looking for Wembley" mode, which is the single, most heartbreaking part of our loss. We know what happened, but does Reagan? She knows her best friend is gone, but everything else is most likely a mystery.

We're all still learning how to be without her, and I am hoping this trip perks things up for all of us. Alan and I often talk about how we feel stuck in a bizarre tunnel where time marches on, but our sadness clings to every thought and moment. A haunting that will only grow the more we love, but looking into the faces of our critters, we know it's worth it.

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Chow Chow Head Tilt

Just a silly video of Walter and a little bit of Quincy. Walter's head tilt is responsible for the many cute pictures of him. Anytime he hears a noise, he tilts his head. I don't know if this is a Chow Chow thing or just a random thing, but I've seen many videos of other Chows doing the same, so perhaps it is the breed. In any case, it is adorable!

Note- he's watching a video of someone playing with a squeak toy. That is NOT me!

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Taking a Chance on an Undesirable

I've been anticipating the premiere of "Last Chance Highway" on Animal Planet ever since I saw previews for it. Before the show aired, I watched this clip: "Rescue From Death's Door."

While it is a wonderful and beautiful thing that these people devote their spare time and money to saving dogs in danger, I couldn't help but be struck pretty hard by a concept in the video, that being the idea of picking out the most adoptable dogs. Yellow dogs are the most popular, and of course so are puppies. The dogs with most adoption potential were plucked out of the pound and rescued.

Alan finally said the words we were both thinking: "Walter would have been left there."

Being a lover (which puts it mildly) of golden retrievers, I am sure many people would point their own fingers at me for loving yellow dogs. I do love yellow dogs, but I love black dogs, white dogs, red dogs, brown dogs, and multi-colored dogs too. It all boils down to the DOG itself. I NEVER thought I would have a boy dog, and I thought our next dog would be a giant Newfoundland. Walter is a boy and definitely not a Newfoundland, but I fell in love with him.

Most people who know of Walter know his story and how he was a death row dog, but my sister is the only one who really understands what terrible condition he was in upon arrival, and how terrifying the dog pound was for those pups.

Walter's photo on Dogs in Danger did not reflect his poor condition whatsoever. His undercoat was so matted that the groomer said it had to be shaved off in one huge chunk. He had a huge eye tumor, his eye was all goopy and crusty, his ears were dirty, and his coat filthy. He had a nasty accident on the seat in the car on the way home due to being scared, and another accident in the bathtub that same night. Walter was so terrified of everything that he refused to walk, and we had to carry him to get him to go anywhere. The vet even had to load him into my car.

Knowing just the basics of a dog pound pup, Walter was an old man, crippled with a bad paw. He was a mess. An undesirable. And as Alan said, he would have been left there because so many seniors are, not to mention the crippled ones. Despite all of this, I just fell in love with him. The day after I rescued him we drove to the vet, and tears filled my eyes with the thought that he might need to be put down, not knowing if this old boy had cancer or some other terrible disease. I had only known him for one day, but I loved him as if he had been mine forever. In the end, I knew that if it was time, dying with a family who loved him was much better than dying on the cement floor of a dog pound, unloved and scared.

Luckily, that was not the case. This "undesirable" is a well-adjusted dog now. Walter has really come out of his shell in the last month or so. He gets excited about eating, which before he just seemed shocked that someone gave him a bowl. He snuggles with Alan after being scared of him (just for being a man) for quite awhile. Walter runs and hops around the yard, plays with stuffed animals, enjoys all of the attention he gets at Petsmart, and doesn't try to hide in the dog beds there anymore. He even climbs up onto our bed and waits for me to get ready in the morning.

While we took a chance on him, Walter has given us something we can never repay him for, and that is helping us heal from the loss of Wembley. He won't take her place (nobody will), and that is not what we expected, but he makes our life feel full again. Seeing every new step he takes toward becoming a well-adjusted dog makes us happy and grateful for him. Walter is our lifesaver.

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Kennel Stars

I am pleased to report the kennel was a positive experience. This place is fantastic, and I'm sure we will use them again when we head to DC at the end of July. It looks like a little villa on the outside, and the back (which I saw in an overhead photo of the place) is completely fenced in and has a swimming pool. Reagan will definitely be getting the swimming pool option in July. Someone ended up canceling, so we were able to snag a VIP room.

Walter, Reagan, and Quincy were the stars of the kennel. One of the workers said that when she came in, everyone was raving about how great "the family" was. She also said they were very well-behaved and the workers really appreciated all of the notes about each dog, and how we divided up the food to make it easy. They encouraged us to come back of course. After seeing how happy and relaxed the dogs were when we picked them up, I feel much better about it. They were really tired and slept the entire way home, so they obviously got some exercise during their play sessions!

I am so grateful it was not a negative experience like last time.

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Wembley Wednesday

Would Wednesday be devoted to anyone else? Of course not. Every day is Wembley day, if she had any say in it. That's definitely how it was when she was here. This leads me to my topic: fantasy dogs. I was reading a dog forum and this question was posed: "Is/are your current dog(s) your 'fantasy' dogs?" Since most people have a specific breed that they love, I found this an interesting question. Of course, right away I thought of Wembley. She was the perfect dog from puppyhood until her passing. Graceful, kind, beautiful, and obedient. Wembley was an angel, and she knew it too.

Wembley and I had a bond that is difficult to explain. In the past couple years during some major work stresses, all of my anger melted away when I got home and she ran down the stairs to greet me. Not being much of a kisser, sometimes she would be so happy I would actually be rewarded with some smooches. Because they were so rare, they were incredibly special. After a bad day, I loved nothing more than curling up on the couch with trashy television and Wembley by my side- more like in my lap. She loved to cuddle as much as I did.

Anyone who knew Wembley knew how special she was. She was a princess (oh, how I hate using past tense) who loved to be pampered, but not in that "diva" way that is often carried by little dogs, but a Glinda the Good Witch way.

Now back to fantasy dogs-of course Wembley was truly a dream, but so are our other dogs. I read through this thread and found many comments that said "No, my dog sheds too much", or "No, but I love them anyway", or "No, I hate everything about the way my dog looks, but I love his personality." To me, this was incredibly disappointing. I just can't look at their faces (and Alan agrees), and think, "This isn't my fantasy dog." They're just all different and all dream dogs in their own ways. After all, they picked US.

I'm just so happy Wembley picked us first.

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Boarding Woes

I seriously don't know how parents send their children to day care day after day. Nothing against day care, but I can't stand leaving the dogs behind with someone I don't know, even if their establishment has every award, certification, membership, or other fancy credential, it is definitely not the same as their mother watching them.

Will a kennel know that Quincy bears her teeth and wags her whole body when she's happy to see someone or scared? Of course not. Will they know Reagan has a tendency to get bellyaches, or that Walter is painfully shy and still in the process of rehabilitation? No and no. And this is why when we drop them off, I'm going there: I will be the crazy person with the typed up paper that includes a brief personality profile of each dog.

Now, this has several uses. First, it lets them know a little bit about each dog, but I will also have this file for later on, if we should hire the dog sitter again, or if we bring them to a different kennel. The Chi Pack, back when it was just Wembley and Reagan, stayed at a kennel one time. It was a Fourth of July holiday, everyone was busy, and nobody was able to watch them, so we brought them to a kennel. Poor Wembley didn't eat at all while there, and spent the whole time terrified and huddled in the back corner of the kennel. Reagan had no problems. Deep down, I've never quite forgiven myself for leaving Wembley there. Hopefully through the years we made it up to her, and it definitely made us plan events around dog accommodations.

This weekend, we are going to a wedding that is two hours away. Alan is in the wedding, so he has to be all involved with everything, which means we will be staying two nights at a hotel. My sister was supposed to come down to be our dog sitter, but her plans changed and she can't make it, which left us searching for a kennel. Quincy and Reagan have bordatella vaccinations, which are required at all good kennels, but Walter did not have one, so our dreams of the dogs living in luxury at the Paw Print Inn were dashed, since the vaccination needs to be administered at least seven days before.

With a little research, we discovered Halliday's Pet Resort. Walter is good to go with his bordatella vaccination, the dogs can all sleep in one room, and if the VIP suite gets a cancellation, we are the first ones on the waiting list (it has a VCR and rental movies for the dogs!!! How CUTE!). Plus, we can bring their dog beds (the spoiled pups have orthopedic beds), food, and any toys they might want. And let's not forget this little bonus for all three pups:

Combo Package

"Your dog will have a day packed with fun, while he or she enjoys all three of the above (happy hour, busy bone, extra play session)."

Another bonus? They are staying less than 3 miles away from our hotel. If there should be fire trucks or emergency vehicles in the surrounding area, I will be fully prepared to break down every door and wall and free them (a little dramatic, but come on, I don't want this to be Martha Stewart's chow chow part II).

All we have to do now is enjoy the three nights until doomsday.

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Inevitable

A first post is always so daunting. Where to begin? Is an introduction? Just start randomly? Because it is first, it is truly is an introduction. Chi Pack began growing eight years ago with the most beautiful golden retriever, ever (seriously!). Now it has reached five members, all with unique personalities and challenges.

We have met some resistance and judgment from others along the way, saying we are silly and stupid to have so many "pets." Anyone who has truly loved an animal knows they are not merely pets, they are family members to be loved and taken care of . They are not disposable, they are not a nuisance, they are not solely an expense. They are the only creatures who are capable of unconditional love. They provide love, entertainment, and comfort after a bad day or a bump in the road. We simply can't imagine our lives without them.

Although you can see our pack on the right side of the page, here is a little more about them to start:

Wembley- Our girl who started it all. Sadly, we lost her to cancer in January 2010.

Reagan- Our five-year-old golden retriever who was recently mistaken for being five months old. That is how hyper she is!

Quincy - An eight-month old border collie mix. She is not the brilliant mind one might expect from a border collie mix, but she is extremely quirky and incredibly sweet.

Walter - We have no idea how old Walter is, but we are guessing somewhere between eight and eleven. Our vet guessed ten. He has been with our family since February.

Piper - I found Piper at work when she was just a little kitten. Noticing her ear was cut off and all bloody, I lured her out of a pipe with a can of tuna (and the help of some co-workers).

Aurora - She is the latest addition to our family and was recently diagnosed with two luxating patellas, which is not very common in cats. She is also deaf. Aurora is three years old and has been a fantastic addition to our home. We just love her!

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