🌙🐩Somebody noticed

I thought it was going to be a slow day.

I thought that until about 9 o’clock tonight.

I have several really incredible adoption stories I’ve been holding onto for a day like today. A slow day.

I had two interviews this morning. I met with the team at Addison’s Abbey that is implementing our new strategy for managing the small dog center. I had some personal errands to run in the afternoon. Then I was going to come home and write.

Some of those stories are almost done.

But then life happens.

Almost simultaneously, I got calls from our team at Addison’s Abbey and from our caregiver in the Kennel.

Two SOS dogs were struggling.

Bailey, a little mini doodle who will be 14 in November, had decided that eating was no longer on his agenda. Neither was moving around much.

For a dog who, even at his age, likes to bounce through life, this was a problem.

Turning down food for one shift isn’t something that makes me panic. But that was day shift. By the time we got into night shift, things were getting worse. Bloody diarrhea. Then Bailey started vomiting his water.

That’s when I got the call.

And the videos.

About the same time, SOS Charlie the Lab was worrying caregiver Madison quite thoroughly.

Charlie just turned 12 in May, and for a Labrador Retriever, that is getting well up there. He wasn’t drinking as much. He wasn’t eating as much.

That’s worrisome.

I headed up the hill after the first call. Caleb met me in the parking lot with Bailey and we got him in the back of my SUV. Bailey is spending the night with us here at the house. I did telemedicine with our veterinarian, we have a plan for tonight, and tomorrow Bailey will be going in.

Charlie?

I’m not so sure about Charlie. 😂

I went running into the Kennel to check on him. Madison said, “Here, he’s over here,” and took me to his run.

Charlie popped up, started wagging his tail and looked around as if to say, What is wrong with you women?

Madison looked at me astonished.

“I swear he was sick!”

I started laughing. Because I have no doubt he was. I had seen the videos. But at that moment, he was ok.

Still, I suspect we’ll be getting Charlie in for a good once-over pretty soon, too.

Now you may be wondering why I’m telling you all of this.

I’m not really telling you about the dogs. I am telling you about the people.

Other than these two young caregivers, both employees, these two dogs don’t have anyone else to notice. They don’t have families waiting at home for them. They have the caregivers who take care of them here at the Poodle Farm.

Both have behavior problems. Or, at least, they have what we humans have labeled as problems.

Charlie simply doesn’t like other dogs. He thinks people are wonderful. But in a world where there are thousands upon thousands of dogs of his breed looking for homes, sometimes having the slightest opinion of your own can be enough to make you difficult to place.

Bailey is the opposite. He has been known to be picky about people. He likes who he likes. He doesn’t think he should have to put up with strangers touching him, and he especially doesn’t appreciate having his collar grabbed. When his family went through a divorce when Bailey was older, there weren’t many options for a picky little Poodle mix.

There was just us.

But Bailey and Charlie aren’t actually what made me want to write this tonight.

It was the young people who called me.

Both caregivers on duty picked up their phones and called the boss.

They noticed.

They worried.

They sent videos. They asked questions. And when they weren’t sure what to do, they had enough initiative to say, I need help.

Yes, they are employees.

But they care.

They care deeply enough to make absolutely certain that these dogs’ needs are taken care of. The dogs don’t have to belong to them to still be their dogs.

And I am very proud of both of them.

I’m interviewing right now, and that elusive caring factor is exactly what I’m looking for.

I can teach someone how to clean a kennel. I can teach someone how to prepare food, give medications, read a chart, follow a protocol or document what they’ve done.

What is much harder to teach is noticing. Seeing that the old dog who normally bounces isn’t bouncing.

Realizing that the Lab who usually finishes his water hasn’t.

Stopping what you’re doing because something just doesn’t feel right.

And then having the initiative to pick up the phone and say, I need help.

I will probably interview 20 or 25 people to find two.

Because that quality is rare.

The quality of noticing and then not only noticing, but caring.

But our dogs deserve it.

And you, our supporters, deserve to know that when you entrust these dogs to us, somebody is watching.

Somebody notices.

So I’ll keep looking until I find those people.

Because around here, even when a dog has nobody of his own anymore, he is still somebody’s dog.

Tonight, Bailey and Charlie were theirs.

And that matters.