How you can help French Bulldog Rescue

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Cosmo is available for adoption via the French Bulldog Village.

The amount of dogs that are now coming into French Bulldog rescue can sometimes seem overwhelming. It’s easy to think that, just because you can’t foster a dog in your home, or donate money, there’s nothing that you can do to help.

In fact, that’s not true at all. Even someone who is housebound can still be a French Bulldog rescue “booster”.

For example, you can browse to the French Bulldog Village Website, and use the Facebook button at the bottom of a foster dog or available French Bulldog’s profile. Clicking the ‘like’ button will add that dog’s link to your Facebook wall, making him visible to all of your friends. Maybe one of them will be the perfect home for that dog, or will be the person who decides to sponsor that dog’s surgery – and all because you took the time to click a button and make a comment!

Here’s a long list of ways that you can help French Bulldog Rescue – or any other breed rescue of your choice. Remember, the little kindnesses matter, just as much as the large ones.

 

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Updated Dog Heatstroke Survival Guide

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Peanut Butter keeps cool in his wading pool

The other afternoon, we had Hanna out with us beside the pool. I guess we didn’t quite realize how hot it was, because within fifteen or so minutes, she was panting heavily. Luckily, we were able to bring Hanna partway into the pool and cool her off quite easily, but this could just as easily have been a serious situation.

Heat Stroke is a killer of all breeds, not just brachycephalics, and this summer’s extraordinarily hot, muggy conditions are conducive to faster, more serious cases than even the most diligent of us might be used to.

With that in mind, here’s an updated guide to heatstroke in dogs – how to recognize it, and how to treat it. Print it out, and have it in a handy place, because if heatstroke strikes, you do not want to have to go on the internet to look for an info sheet.

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Guinness is Good For… Your Dogs?

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My Grandmother used to give her dogs a rather unique breakfast. Every day started with a dish of steel cut oatmeal, two raw eggs (including the shells) and a pint of Guinness Stout. When asked why, she’d always tell us that “everyone knows Guinness is good for you”.

Turns out that there might be scientific proof for that after all.

 

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Killing them with kindness

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Imagine you have an overcrowded animal shelter. Some media attention and publicity could probably help with that, right?

In a nice twist of fate,  let’s say that your local television station agrees to come down to your shelter to help you publicize the fact that you’re overcrowded.

If you’re that shelter, do you:

a) use the media time to try and show off some of your adoptable pets

-or-

b) Kill an animal on live television, and then tell the public it’s ‘their fault’ you had to kill him.

If you picked B, you must work for Animal Services Center of the Mesilla Valley, in Las Cruces, New Mexico, who just did exactly that live on ABC Affiliate KVIA.

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Corgi Jailbreak

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When Hanna came home, one of the first things I did was to borrow a mastiff sized crate to keep her in overnight. Thankfully, Hanna was housebroken in a record fast period of time, which is good, because she greatly prefers to sleep on the leather sofa, with her head hanging off the side.

This left the crate free for us to move Billie into, along with her litter box and her collection of stuffed toys and stolen work socks (she likes to grab them out of the laundry room, and bury them underneath her bed).

Every night, I would kiss Billie on the nose, and tuck her into bed with a few cookies for snacks, or maybe a small dish of food (babies need a nosh in the middle of the night, is my reasoning). I’d  lock the crate door, of course – a living room holds an entire world of trouble for puppies to get into.

The trouble came to Billie anyways, because almost every morning I was getting up and finding her either wandering around the living room, or sleeping curled up next to her mother, Bunny, in the big dog bed in front of the bookcase.  After a week of this, I was starting to think I was either senile, losing my mind or that I had a dog who was some sort of canine prodigy escape artist.

Turns out, it was that last one.

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