Snakes, snakes everywhere!

At my house we have four ball pythons and two corn snakes. One of the pythons is fully grown, one is a juvenile and the other two are are babies. The corn snakes are both juvenile, one with beautiful red and orange coloring and one albino. Some of them are rescues and some not, but I love them all. Yet most people are terrified of them and terrified when they see them at the house, even though they're all in cages. It's something that's always bugged me and something that eventually inspired me to create Chan and Dan's Amazing Animals, an exotic animal show geared towards children to educate and familiarize them with these amazing animals.

Once, long ago before I was a mom, I wanted a pet snake really bad. I checked out all the different kinds, but ball pythons were the ones I loved the most. Something about the shape of the head, the pattern of the scales....they were just beautiful to me. I've wanted an albino more than anything, for such a long time. What I actually got, however, was a regular male ball python baby. I named him Mr. Snuffleupagus. This may not seem like a sign of affection to some, but I assure you that it was. I loved him to death and I used to take him with me all over, coiled around my wrist or occasionally my neck. Until the day came when my daughter was born and I started having nightmares about him getting out and hurting her. It was ridiculous really, he was perfectly friendly and never hurt anyone. Besides that, they know what they can eat and what they can't and they won't attack something they can't eat. In any case, I had a friend who wanted Mr. Snuffleupagus desperately and had been asking me for him for ages so I gave in and let him keep my snake. 

And I missed him. For years and years I missed him.

So when Dani was about 8 I decided she was old enough for me to get another snake. We went to the pet store and they only had a single ball python - a one year old male. I snatched him up and took him home with me. Dani was scared at first, but kids are curious and much more resilient than we give them credit for. When we were still at the pet store she wouldn't even touch him, she was too scared. By the time we were driving home she would touch him, but not hold him. When we made it home she decided she could hold him after all and within an hour or so of that she decided she wanted one of her own. I named him Mr. Slithers, which may not seem like a sign of affection to some, but I assure you it is.

I was stunned though at how negative and fearful people were upon finding out I owned a snake. And around a child! What a terrible mother they thought I was. I suppose it had been too long since I'd been a snake owner for me to remember how common it is for people to loathe snakes of all kinds. You can tell them that ball pythons are very tame, that they're one of the most sought after as pets because they're so docile and friendly but it makes no difference. People think snakes are evil. But why should they be any less deserving of rescue than a kitten or puppy? Don't they deserve to live their lives just as much? And to be loved and happy, as much as a snake can be happy?

It was this very thing that led me to come up with the idea of a kid-friendly, fun yet educational animal show. In some ways Danica was my inspiration for that. She got over her fear extremely quickly and can now recite all kinds of facts about snakes and their breeds and different morphs. It's awesome. So I thought "What if I could show them while they're still young enough to be willing to try? And teach them too, so they  have fun and learn at the same time?" It's an awesome thing to see, the kids so eager to try something new and even the ones who are scared still buck up their courage enough to try petting one. And that's really all it takes, because after that they've charmed their way into your heart. 

Mr. Slithers was the first snake I got once Dani had grown up some. I know my earlier fear was completely irrational, I could tell you even then that it was, but I can also tell you this: there's no reasoning with brand new mothers. It doesn't matter if something really is a threat to your baby, if you perceive it as such then it is. We couldn't just stop there though. So we also have Ben, one of the babies that Danica named after Big Ben Roethlisberger, her favorite Steeler. And Fezzik, the other baby, named after Andre the Giant's character in The Princess Bride. Then there's Juju, who is something of a rescue. Part of his tail was cut off by very evil people for use in some ritual or ceremony that I never want to understand. He was originally rescued by others, but they couldn't keep him so now he lives with us.

The first corn snake I got was also a rescue. His name is Squirmy, because he IS, and his original owners thought that you needed to get a snake "excited" in order for them to eat. So from infancy until a little over a year old they would literally smack this snake around a while before giving him his food. What they actually accomplished was to make the poor thing terrified not only of people but of eating. He had quit eating before they ever surrendered him to me and it took me months to get him to eat again. Now he eats fine, but he's still scared of people. We let him be in his cage, where he mostly chills out in his tree. He really loves that tree. The other corn snake is the albino that for some reason no one ever wanted at the pet store. I don't know why, he's gorgeous and so friendly. He lived his whole life there and no one ever bought him and one day I was talking to one of the workers there while buying pet food and they said I should take him home, since they knew he'd have a good home with me. And they knocked half the price off. I couldn't say no, so I took him home and we named him President Snow. It's a sign of affection, I swear.

Yesterday I got a call from the mom of a little girl about to turn two who wants us to do our little show for her daughter's birthday. Two is a bit younger than our target audience, but still very exciting. She was telling me what animal lovers they are and how they couldn't find anything like what I do anywhere around. She was so excited to have us and so is the venue where the party's being held. Awesome!

I can't wait for the show, I'm so excited. You know the funniest part? I have massive stage fright. Put me in front of a crowd and tell me to speak and I'll probably just start crying. I've been that way my whole life. My very first show I was sooooo scared. But I said to myself "Just jump in, it's the only way." And I jumped and then something crazy happened. I saw the kids listening all rapt attention and ready to have this new experience and the fear was gone. I still hate being in front of crowds and I haven't found a magical cure for public speaking. Just for this one thing. When I go in front of the kids, I just want to share with them how amazing these animals are and fear has no chance against that. 

Love and Loss..... and Living

One Friday, right about two months ago, I got a text asking if I could take in a couple kittens. I was already fostering four kittens at the time, so I knew it was urgent if they were asking me to take more.

Of course I said yes.

Then it was oh, it's actually a mom and a couple kittens. No big. Then, whoops it's mom and six kittens. Ok. Finally we topped out at mom and eight kittens. That's kind of a lot, but mom and babies were on death row.

Of course I said yes.

To be clear, it was the shelter providing the misinformation, not the rescue. Apparently they didn't feel mom needed to be rescued and possibly felt the same about some of the kittens and were going to keep them on death row. And put them down. It was only when the transporter got there that we started finding out there were more and tried to save those too.

Since nine cats is quite a lot to foster, not to mention it would really be thirteen since I already had some, the litter was split up. The tiniest baby was sent to a dedicated bottle feeder and three kittens went to another foster. Mommy and the four remaining kittens came home with us. We set up a kitty tent in my room with everything they could need inside and got them all settled in. Just another day in my house, really.

Or so I thought.

At four the next morning I was woken up by the cries of Mama and got up to find the tent covered in diarrhea. It was everywhere. I'd had no clue she was sick, but I cleaned it all up and made sure she was ok and had anything she needed. Then I got a couple more hours sleep and when it was a more decent hour, I sent a text to the rescue about it. Turns out they'd already given her medication for it and I didn't need to worry unless it didn't go away. I still worried, but it seemed to go away. What didn't go away was her apparent distaste for using a litter box, so I spent a lot of time cleaning out the tent.

This mommy cat was a lovely but starved Siamese. She was very friendly and initially appeared to be a good mommy to her babies. The babies I had were two Siamese and two calico, all so tiny that they were still nursing. They all got extra food, to try to help them gain back weight - they had a bowl of dry food available at all times and I gave them wet food twice a day, plus kitten milk. At first they ate ravenously, but that tapered off fairly quickly.

On Monday I noticed that Mama seemed to have a cold and I sent a text to the rescue about it. Unbeknownst to me, my contact had left the country for a bit and had no cell service. I never got an answer. The babies all seemed fine.

On Tuesday though, the babies started having diarrhea like their mom had had. I sent another text. No answer. In the meantime I made sure they had plenty of fluids and gave them some pedialyte to help combat dehydration.

On Wednesday I came home to find the little female Siamese had died. Dani was hysterical and I was out of my head. I'd never had one die in my house before and the poor thing was so tiny. What had happened? What else could I have done to save her? This time I didn't bother with texts but straight up called. All I got was voicemail and I was in no mood to be patient. I called another volunteer and that was how I finally learned my contact was gone and not receiving my messages. I got the number for the backup person and called there, but if I was hoping for help there was little to be had.

I buried the lost little one in the backyard.

After that, I tried even harder with the ones that were left, determined not to have another death. I did everything I could think of, but to no avail. On Thursday I came home and one of the calico's was barely hanging on. I held her and tried to get her to drink some milk mixed with pedialyte. She died in my arms. I called and notified the rescue, asking again for help or advice. It was thought the diarrhea might be from coccidia, an intestinal parasite. I had medicine for this and immediately started giving it to mom, which would then pass to the babies through her milk.

I buried this lost one next to her sister.

Friday morning I woke up and found the other calico had died. I don't have enough words to communicate the depth of my despair. I was failing left and right and I didn't know why and I didn't know how to fix it. Again I contacted the rescue, but this time I got different news. My original contact was back and going to set up a vet visit that day for Mama and the last remaining baby. Finally!

I buried this tiny lost kitten next to his sisters.

Friday afternoon I took a long lunch and got mommy and baby to the vets to finally get checked out. Their condition was so bad that they had to remain there for treatment, so I left alone. I felt like the world's worst foster mother and I cried the whole way back to work. The last kitten died the next day. Mommy's still hanging in there, slowly recovering.

While all this was going on, the dog side of the rescue was doing a massive intake and I volunteered to foster an adorable baby hound mix named Tanah. I also agreed to take home three husky mix puppies for a couple days until their foster was back from vacation. One of those husky puppies would win mine and Danica's heart so completely we had to keep him, and I asked to adopt him. I was approved, once he was fixed and ready. When their foster came to get them, she took only the two females; the boy stayed with us since we were keeping him.

About a week after the kittens had passed, I noticed Tanah was being very lethargic. She had previously been a very energetic and playful puppy, but suddenly she would just lay like a lump and didn't want toys or even treats. I immediately told my foster coordinator on the doggy side that something was up. She gave me a couple ideas to try, but nothing seemed to work. I couldn't get her to eat, she was barely drinking water and she had no energy. We got her medication, IV fluids and Nutri-cal but she only got worse. An appointment was made with a vet. This all happened very quickly, from ideas on Monday to fluids on Tuesday to the vet on Wednesday.

Except there was a scheduling mix-up and since my appointment was late, the vet left the office before I got there thinking he had no more appointments. And here's where the story infuriates me. I totally understand making a mistake and not getting an appointment on the calendar. We're all human, we all make mistakes. It happens. But when I showed up and the vet tech, who was still there, realized I really did have an appointment and called the doctor he refused to come back.

He refused to come back. Remember that.

Even though it had only been a couple days since she started acting ill, by this time Tanah looked like she was on death's door. My lovely and loving husky was there too, trying to comfort her as he'd done from the moment she became sick. The vet tech could clearly tell she was in terrible shape and relayed as much to the doctor. There was a whole lot of back and forth and many phone calls, with the rescue trying to get the puppies treated and the vet tech in the unenviable position of being stuck in the middle. Finally she did a fecal check, gave both puppies a shot of antibiotics, and sent me on my way. The rescue, however, had not given up and had me bring the puppies to another foster; a couple with a lot of medical knowledge and already set up to give IV fluids. They have a wonderful history of saving the sick ones.

And so we let our babies go, fully expecting they'd be back with us soon, happy and healthy once more. But you already know how this story goes, don't you?

The next day was the 4th of July. Maybe this is why the doctor was so eager to be gone from his practice and wouldn't return. He wanted to party and have a 4 day weekend.

Tanah died that morning.

They said before the end she seemed to have improved. The last check on her before she died she had seemed happy and like she was getting a little energy back. When they checked again a little bit later, she was dead. My little husky was curled up on her body, as if he was protecting her. But she didn't need protection anymore.

Over the next few days I got reports about my baby boy, who had caught whatever she had but wasn't nearly as far gone as poor Tanah had been. They knew I was adopting him once he'd pulled through whatever this was. I never had a doubt he'd pull through, just like I never had a doubt they'd save him. They really are very good at this and they were doing everything they could for him.

Sunday night Dani and I were cleaning out her room because we'd decided she was too old for a toy box and also about half the toys in it. When the phone rang I went to get it without the slightest fear or premonition of what was coming. Until I saw the caller ID. This time it wasn't the volunteers with an update on my boy, it was my foster coordinator - and there was really only one reason that she'd be calling me. My heart stopped but I answered anyway and after hi I said "You're calling to tell me he didn't make it, aren't you?" I could hear the heartbreak in her voice when she said yes. It took all the strength I had not to burst into tears, but Danica was watching me and I held them back. I listened vaguely to how they really tried everything and everyone was so sorry and they thought it was distemper so I couldn't foster for a while, but really all I could hear was my little baby boy crying to be picked up and all I could see was how he used to look at me with such love and trust. I started to lose the battle with my tears and I think she could tell. The call ended pretty quickly. Danica was sitting there watching me, waiting for me to tell her the reason I was choking back tears. All I could say was I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry over and over again but I didn't really need to say anything else. She knew. I had to watch her heart break. We held each other and cried like babies. For us, for him, for all the ones we couldn't save.

Let me tell you, losing them is horrible. Terrible. It rips your heart out every time. It doesn't matter if it's an animal you love so much you're adopting him or one that's been in your care less than a week. It rips your heart out. Every time. And watching your daughter grieve just piles the pain on. Sometimes I wonder if I've done the right thing. Like with those little kittens. Was the only thing I accomplished prolonging their suffering? Did I "rescue" them just so they'd suffer and die? What good did I accomplish? I don't know. I repeat all the platitudes I'm told to Danica, hoping it helps her, makes her feel better. But I don't really believe them.

I'll tell you what I do know. I know there are always more out there, needing to be saved. Deserving to be saved. I know some of those will live, if they're just given the chance.

I know that if my little husky could talk to me, he would tell me to keep trying. To save them all. He never made it to two months old, but the love that baby gave to every being he encountered was amazing and beautiful and it will stay with me forever.

 I know that I can't give up no matter how much it hurts, because I can't stand to say no to a life that might be saved. I know that Danica has that same determination and in fact has told me that we can never stop fostering because they'll die if we do.

I know that it's not really failure, even though it feels like it. Here is the most important thing I know: it's not failure if you lose them.

It's failure when you don't even try.

He? She? It? Teeny's Tale

Our first ever set of foster kittens were originally named Sasha and Sparkles. We started off our rescue lives by mistaking the gender of our rescue animals. Oopsie! You see, Sasha and Sparkles were actually boys. Dani and I both were absolutely certain we heard the shelter staff say they were female, call them "she" and "her". We must have heard them wrong, obviously. It was a while before we figured that out though.

These two kittens came from our local animal control and that was who we were fostering them for. They were tiny little things, but very sweet. Dani was totally in love, especially with Sasha. (He's the grey and white one.)

At first everything seemed fine, they were healthy and ate well, played with each other and cuddled with us. We thought, hey this fostering thing is easy! Little did we know. We'd had them about a week when Sasha threw up on my bed one day. This was immediately followed by diarrhea, luckily in the litter box this time. I had no idea what to do, no idea what was wrong. I'd been told to call if they showed any sign of ill health, no matter how small a sign, so that's what I did. Then we brought both kittens back to the shelter to get checked out.

When they called us back to the exam room to speak with the vet, I was a wreck. I imagined every terrible animal disease I'd ever heard of, I wondered what I'd do if it was incurable, I desperately tried to figure out how I'd failed at this only my first time out. What had gone wrong? And as it turns out, possibly nothing went wrong. They had tested him and he was negative for everything. There was no disease, no infection. He just wasn't thriving. I was told how common this was, that sometimes they just didn't grow and failed for no reason. Then I was told to take the other kitten home and keep trying with that one. Knowing full well I'd get the third degree from Danica if I left her favorite kitten behind, I asked what would happen to Sasha if I didn't take her. Were they going to treat her? Give her special care?

Well, no. Animal control doesn't do that. They adopt out the ones big enough to be fixed and healthy enough to be adoptable. Everyone else goes to sleep. Danica was way too involved in my phone to catch this conversation, so we were temporarily spared the hysterics. But I was faced with a terrible dilemma. How did I save this little kitten that was dying but wasn't sick? What if I failed and he died in front of Dani, what would that do to her?

In the end, I did the only thing I could do; the only choice I was capable of making. I begged them to let me keep trying, to keep him alive and not give up. It took a while, but eventually the vet agreed to let me try. I got 24 hours to show improvement and at least some weight gain, then I had to bring him back for another exam. Well all right then. Challenge accepted.

There followed one of the longest nights of my life. I had medicine to force in him, nutri-cal to force feed him and a whole array of cat foods and baby foods to tempt him with. If you have never had to force feed a sick animal, let me tell you I don't recommend it. They really don't like it and they have sharp claws. One of the medications they gave me, to help him digest his food, tasted absolutely terrible and he hated it. He was so lethargic he could barely lift his head.... until that medicine got near his face and then he was all tooth and claw and spitting fury. I absolutely failed at getting that stuff in him; luckily for all of us, Danica didn't. I don't know what it was, but he would take it from her. I barely slept that night, I was awake for hours doing everything I could to get fluids and food down this baby's throat. I swore to him that he was gonna make it, he wasn't allowed to die, he had to live. I think it was about this time I started calling him Teeny, because he was just such a little thing and the name stuck.

The next day we went back and had the follow up exam. By now Dani knew what was at stake too, so she was just as worried as I was while we waited. Finally they called us in and gave us the news: he'd gained an ounce! This time they gave us a whole week to show improvement and weight gain, so we weren't quite out of the shadow yet. He was getting there though.

I slept a little more that first week than I did the first night, but not by a whole lot. I just couldn't stand to lose this little guy, I knew he could make it if we tried. My mom wanted to change his name to Willow (we still thought it was a girl) because he had the will to live. Slowly he started to come back to life, eating on his own and becoming a little more active. The next exam went much, much better and there was no longer the threat of death hanging over his head. That was when we finally found out that the little kittens we'd thought were girls were actually boys. Whoops!

Both little kittens stayed with us a little longer, until they were big enough to be fixed and adopted. We renamed Sparkles as Oreo Cookie, because it was funny, but we never could think of another name for Teeny. The name Teeny just stuck with him. By the time he left us he'd developed such an appetite that no food was safe, not even ours. He'd try to get your dinner plate, he'd try to climb me to get the food I was cooking, he even once made it up to the counter and tried to get in my crock pot! Little teeny kitten food thief!

Eventually the day came when both kittens went back to the shelter for good. They were healthy and happy and ready for adoption. Both of them did, in fact, get adopted. So I guess the moral of the story is this: never give up, because you never know who you can save if you just try. Always remember:

Teeny lives.

Pictures, you say?

Ok, here you go! Pictures of my foster husky with his soon to be owner, Danica. Is he not the cutest thing?

He's also the sweetest and very smart, I can already tell. He loves to cuddle and be held and whenever we're in the room he watches us constantly.

He's very gentle with us and with the kittens, which is good. That was a big concern of mine, that he might be aggressive with them, but it turned out to be unfounded. He just sniffs them and sometimes licks them.

He's absolutely perfect and he's ours!

Why I foster

It's been almost a year since my daughter said to me "Mom, I want a puppy." Those five words have led us on an amazing journey that I never could have imagined. Certainly I never saw myself as a foster mom. Now I cherish that part of my identity.

You see, before she said those words to me I didn't even know there was such a thing as fostering animals. But when I did some research on animal adoption while trying to decide if I'd get her a puppy, I discovered fostering and my whole world changed. I thought to myself "I can do that. I should do that, I want to help." And let me tell you, it's addicting. The joy and love these animals bring to your life is astounding and I can think of no feeling more powerful than that of knowing you just saved a life.

I talked to my daughter about it first, then when she agreed I signed us up. Initially we fostered for the local animal control, but eventually we grew frustrated because we constantly had to fight with them to keep our foster animals from being put down. We ended up fostering for a local animal rescue group that came very highly recommended, A Second Chance Puppies and Kitten Rescue. They're absolutely wonderful.

Since we became a foster family we've saved kittens, puppies, adult cats, adult dogs and exotics. The exotics we actually keep, not foster. I discovered a vet along this journey who takes in unwanted exotics and then finds loving homes for them. We help him rescue the exotics as well.

Fostering can be a very tough thing at times. Sometimes you get sick animals and nothing you do can save them. It can be extremely time consuming and emotionally exhausting. It is also immensely rewarding. The people we've met, the animals we've loved, the success stories we carry within us, all of this has combined to enrich our lives and our selves beyond my wildest imagination. The empathy and love I've seen grow in my daughter is beautiful and priceless.

I wouldn't trade it for the world. This is my life now, my mission and my reason for never giving up. No matter how much it might hurt when I can't save one I still move on to the next with hope. Each life is worth trying for.

If you're wondering, she never did get that puppy. I was sure that one day we'd find the one that was family, if we were just patient. And I was right. We recently took three foster huskies into our home and one of them, the male, is the puppy we've been waiting for. Dani's wanted a husky for as long as I can remember, they're her favorite. Even when she was afraid of other dogs, she wasn't afraid of them. She's still a little afraid of big dogs, but not huskies. This one has the perfect personality for our little family; he's already a part of it.

She doesn't know it yet but very soon she's going to get the puppy she's always wanted. And I've already promised to keep fostering once the adoption is complete. :-D