Cruelty beyond boundaries

Cj Needs a Miracle

Sometimes, it seems like just yesterday to me – a time when no one knew what a French Bulldog was. If you were walking one, the most common question was “Is that a Boston/Pug/Bulldog?” (quickly followed by “did you crop his ears?”).

If you wanted a Frenchie, you had to search for one, and you had to be prepared to wait. I searched and waited almost a year for my first Frenchie, and my first show Frenchie was a year and change search that had me flying cross continent into the buckle of the bible belt.

In rescue, a single dog in need was a big deal – big enough that we all knew the back story, where the dog had come from, what it had been through. If you’ve been around for a while, you remember the story that shocked all of us to the core – the little puppy mill Frenchie who’d been living in a chicken coop, one ear cut off, possibly to get rid of her identifying AKC tattoo. A rescue was usually just that – a needy dog, taken out of a horrible situation. There weren’t many abandoned or unwanted French Bulldogs, even fewer strays (I can’t recall any, actually, or if they were strays it was only until their frantic owners tracked them down).

Times have changed for our breed, however. You can’t look at a rescue page without reading about a French Bulldog dumped at a shelter, or given up by an owner who doesn’t want it any more. Even the “rare” Frenchies are turning up in rescue now – FBRN has had a Blue French Bulldog or two in their care, given up by owners who apparently didn’t place value on either their dog, or the $6,000 they paid for him.

We even have strays – dogs found wandering, and unclaimed. French Bulldogs that no one bothered to look for. Inconceivable, not very long ago – common place, today.

CJ is one of those dogs – found wandering on the streets of a southern town, CJ ended up in a pen at a kill shelter, just one more dog that no one wanted, and that no one bothered to look for. CJ’s time was running out, but the French Bulldog Village won him his freedom, and he made the trip north to Canada, along with Peanut.

CJ has been fostering with FBV/ECFBC Rescue Volunteer Karen, in Beamsville, Ontario. I met CJ, and I envied Karen getting to share her house with the big galoot.

CJ is all happiness and affection – a leg leaner, pressing against you for comfort, smiling his big goof ball Frenchie grin at everyone he meets. His back legs are wobbly, and he has the occasional accident, but he’s a good boy at heart who tries his best to make you happy, and who we were optimistic was going to make someone a fabulous companion.

Then, over the past weekend, CJ became ill, vomiting and unable to keep his food down. When he stopped eating, foster mom Karen knew something was very wrong, and rushed him to the vet’s office.

What she found stunned her, and has stunned me – CJ has been shot, not once, not even twice, but at least three times. Embedded in his body are three BB Gun pellets, two in his chest and one in his leg. He has peritonitis, possibly from the perforation that one of the bullets left in his body caused.  They’re going to have to open up his abdomen, insert drains and put him on IV antibiotics.

Some time in CJ’s past, perhaps while he was wondering lost and alone on a dark southern street, someone saw him and, rather than wanting to help him or alleviate his fear, aimed a gun and shot him. Three times.

There are moments when the very thankfulness and gratitude that I wrote about just two days ago seem to slip out of my grasp. There are times when I feel, when anyone who rescues can only feel, overwhelmed by the amount of cruelty that exists in the world.

This is one of those times.

If you ever meet CJ, a little dog who only wants to make everyone his friend, look into his soft brown eyes – and now imagine, instead of being moved by him, deciding to aim a gun at him instead.

CJ needs what we’ve already asked you for so recently – CJ needs a miracle. His vet bills are $1,100.00 so far, and he’s on his way to the University of Guelph (where Ema will be receiving her surgery).  Their estimate for his care is $1500 – $2,000.

If you can help CJ, please visit his page on the French Bulldog Village website, and click the paypal button at the bottom of the page. Again, as with Ema, every dollar counts.

In our own tiny attempt to fund raise for CJ, I’m going to do something I’d always said I never would – I’m going to put ads on my blog. If you donate $250 or more to CJ’s care, I’ll place your banner on the bottom of every post on my blog, for six months. A pretty good deal, since we get well over 30,000 visitors a month.

What a bargain! Make your donation via CJ’s paypal button, and note that you want to run an ad on this blog, and I’ll get it set up. Heck, I’ll even design the banner for you. Ads are limited to three, due to space considerations.

Do you have your own fund raising idea for CJ? Tell us about it – let’s try to get this big happy boy, who’s had such bad luck with the people he’s met in his life, that there are people out there who care.

If you can’t donate to CJ’s care, please please – spread the word about him. Share his story on twitter, facebook or on any mailing lists you’re on. CJ needs a miracle – let’s be his angels.

If I haven’t managed to convince you yet, watch CJ’s video – and now remember those bullets.

A longer Ema update coming…

I had a really, really long day, but I promise a full Ema update tomorrow*, along with all of the grisly anatomical details.

For now, how about a happy photo?

Get me outta here!

It’s Pumpkin Princess Ema, saying “Enuf wit the camera – get me outta here, lady!”.

* unless I get a sudden “we can do the surgery this afternoon at 3 pm” type phone call from the University of Guelph, in which case all bets are off

Oh, and ps – don’t forget, our new surgical goal is $3800, give or take – preferably give.

Ema at the Veterinary Cardiologist

I have a long, hard story about what we learned at today’s appointment with Ema. The short story? It’s fixable – expensive, but fixable.

At the moment, however, I’m just not up to writing about it – not yet. For now, I’m just going to give you a pictorial on Ema’s appointment with Veterinary Cardiologist, Dr. Sandra Minors, at the Mississauga Oakville Veterinary Referral Clinic.

Ema in the car enroute to the clinic. The resolution isn’t great, but you can sort of see the color of Ema’s tongue here – a uniform blue, almost all the time.

See the rest, after the cut – and please don’t forget to help, if you can.

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All of My Old Dogs – A Fund Raising Calendar

Tessa gets lost outside the double doors sometimes. One of them, as she well knows, is merely decorative – it doesn’t even open. Right now, there’s a bucket of fireplace ashes in front of it, and a big, yellow snow shovel. Still, Tessa wedges herself in behind them both, barking at me through the glass, furious that I do not come and let her in right this minute.

I am, in fact, standing in the other door, the one that does open, shivering in bare feet and a t shirt. I step outside, into the snow, and gently poke her with my foot, saying “hey, psst. Old lady. The door is over here”. She startles when I touch her, shakes her head, comes over to the proper door and stomps past me, clearly pissed beyond belief at the shoddy service she gets around here lately. She places herself in front of the couch, and barks a short, angry, imperious bark at me, code for “Put me up on the freakin’ couch, and make it snappy!”.

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