I’m calling her Gwen; or sometimes Gwennie. This little gal was a pound dog.
Older Daughter has been getting as many pound dogs out as she can find space for at the shelter where she works. She will no longer have that job, however. Apparently, she is saving too many. She was told at a board meeting that it is understandable that she would wish to save as many as possible, but that space and money won’t allow it. So Older Daughter will not be going back to the pound. Two other employees will now make those decisions. My daughter will not go into the pound, pick out a couple of small “placeable” dogs, and leave the rest behind. She just can’t do it. She’s not made that way.
Following the board meeting, Older Daughter was VERY upset (there was more than one issue). She and I talked at length. Among other things, we talked about how she cannot save every animal. Neither can I. But I reminded her of my *BIG Dream. I told her with as much of a smile as I could muster that if I should ever find myself with BIG book sales, and therefore BIG money - my kennel would become a full-time rescue building, offering the very space that doesn’t exist anywhere else in this area at this time. She tried to smile with me.
Anyway, on one of Older Daughter’s last trips to the pound, she brought Gwennie and her brother out. It was not good that the two had been living in the pound together (and before) because neither was altered. Of course, the fear was that Gwen might be pregnant. As soon as Older Daughter got her hands on Gwen she knew it was too late for a spay. A vet check confirmed. Gwen is possibly only about two weeks away from giving birth. So Gwen came to a run at my kennel over the weekend. And this is where she’ll stay until, and for a while after, her puppies are born.
Here she is - my newest foster. Soon-to-be-momma Guinevere.
Please stop by tomorrow. I need you to click on some things. :)