Gunner’s Story: The Final Chapter

It’s been calm few weeks here in my little circus. (I’m knocking on wood as I type). Who would have thought that I’d miss my human boys?

Gunner and Bear continue to rule the house with little input from me or Jim. As I said, I’m the keeper of the kibble and it’s now Jim’s responsibility to open the back door and do the belly rubs. Recently, Deycon and his little sister (and I use the term lightly) came for a visit. We all trekked off to work a few days during that time. The kids love the dogs and the dogs get a good work out chasing them. After a few hours, Gunner usually walks right into the nursing office, reminds me that the water bowl needs filling and sits next to the cabinet where we keep the treats. I wish the entire staff worked for beef jerky.

Jim and I spent last weekend driving to and from Camp LeJeune to bring DJ back to his mother, my Navy Corpsman daughter. As usual Little Man spent a few minutes with Gunner and Bear giving them last minute instructions, reminding them he’ll be back for Santa and telling them to use the potty in the yard.

After the long drive, Jim and I spent a lazy Sunday and I got up early Monday. The morning was a bit cooler and I decided to enjoy my first cup of coffee on the deck while the dogs ran in the yard. When I finished brewing the pot I put on my robe and flip flops and walked out the back door. There was a beautiful mist hovering above grass in the back of the yard and the boys were making sure they caught every bit of the morning dew off the overgrown grass. The breeze was sweet and the moment was idyllic.  I was thinking about the last few days, the traveling and how wonderful it was to be home. Life is good. When will I learn?

At that exact moment the flock of chickens that are residing illegally next door started to cluck and wander around. In a synchronized performance that would be the envy of any Olympic team, the two buddies stopped dead in their tracks, brought their ears to attention and turned toward the warbling. It happened all at once. In less than the blink of an eye they were across the yard and heading for the fence. Gunner was a hurdle jumper in a previous life and made it over the fence in two leaps. Bear slid under the teenie tiny space that I had failed to block with the boulders we had moved to mow the grass. They flew through the bushes and headed for the hens.

I dropped my cup of coffee, threw off the robe and made it down the stairs in two thumps and a bump. I made the right turns around the deck and the left to my neighbors’ gate shrieking all the way. I caught a glimpse of Gunner heading back toward the fence when I lost my footing and everything went black. I didn’t know what happened, but I felt Bear’s feet bounce off my back as I hit the ground. I was struck blind and felt a wave of something cool and moist cover me. Later, I would wish I had gone “toward the light. “

My yells brought my neighbors to their back door and I could hear them running toward me. I was on all fours, face in the mud, shoeless, minus my glasses and could feel a breeze on my nether regions. As Tom and Anita helped me to my feet, I was shaken up, cussing and spitting mud. I mean it literally, I was spitting mud. They had no idea the boys had even come into their yard, so they were wondering what I was up to this time. Anita helped me wipe mud off my face, found my glasses for me and asked what happened. I know she was feigning concern and smothering giggles. Then Tom apologized because the chickens got out and asked if I was alright. I’m pretty sure they just wanted me out of their yard so they could call their lawyer for a restraining order. As I approached their garden gate Tom slyly called, “Hey, Eileen. Nice tattoo. How long did it take until you could sit again?” Go ahead, smirk, I thought, you and your frikkin’ chickens. I vaguely remember something about good fences and neighbors.

I limped back into my own yard and hobbled up the stairs to see a grinning Gunner sitting on the deck by the back door. I know I was leaving wet footprints from the deck through the first floor but I was far too angry to even care. Opening the front door, I found a totally innocent Rottie staring at me and acting more than a little annoyed he’d had to wait. I fed and watered them, and wondered if I’d make it to work on time.

Later that evening, Jim noticed the abrasions on my forearms and asked if it had anything to do with the muddy footprints he cleaned off the kitchen floor. I started to explain and only got out, “YOUR dogs….” when he raised his hand turned away and said, “No, don’t tell me! I don’t want to purger myself if this ever gets to court. Just tell me if the police were involved.” Another wise guy…. just what I need.

So now that my hands are healing and my pride is almost restored, I’ll get to the real reason that this chapter of Gunner’s adventures in foster care is a bit late. Unbelievably, it isn’t something the fur kids did.

Every foster mom knows that sooner or later we’re going to get “that email” and our hearts are going to burst with joy and rupture in emptiness all at once. Well, I got that letter not too long ago. Gunner’s foster term is finished at the end of this month and I’ve been avoiding my email because I knew this was coming. I had gotten a message on Facebook from Christene, aka Mrs. Gunner’s mom. I was sure I knew what it meant and just stared at the notification for a few minutes gathering my strength to open what I believed was coming. Thinking this was the end of an era, I read and wept openly but with an ache of a different kind.

My head was spinning and I felt a little numb staring at my screen reading and re-reading what must have taken every ounce of love and strength to write. Chris and Christene have given so much serving our country and like so many other young families they make huge sacrifices all along the way. My heart broke as I read how their anticipated situation had changed and that they were now pondering a colossal sacrifice making a decision no Mom or Dad should have to: Their plans had been so suddenly altered that now Gunner would not be able to continue their journey with them.

I could feel Christene’s anguish as I read her request that Gunner become a permanent part of my family. She knows he is loved and cared for (and maybe a little spoiled) and they want the best for him. An unwelcome but familiar feeling came back to me as I identified with her words. If you have read any of my fosters’ blogs, you’ll know that it was for this reason I was so drawn to Guardian Angels For Soldiers Pet a few years back: My own daughter had to give up her fur babies when she deployed and that chasm has yet to be filled. We never did find out what happened to them. Now another set of military pet parents was facing this decision and all I can say is it is just wrong.

I sat on the bed next to Jim and nudged him a bit. I told him about Christene’s letter and asked his thoughts. As he rolled over and without opening his eyes, he chuckled, “Why are you asking me? You already know: he stays.”

I went back to the computer and responded Christene. Yes, there was no question that Gunner has a new home. I hoped she and Mr. Gunner’s Dad know that if there is a change along the way they can always come and pick up their boy. I contacted state and national folks and Guardian Angels For Soldiers’ Pet has paperwork to be completed. There’s always paperwork but when the original term of foster care finishes, Gunner will be here for good. Jokingly I thought, well it’s not like I was really going to let him go anyway.

I mentally removed the “No Vacancy” sign from my front door and slid back under the covers. Putting his arms around me, Jim said, “You know, you’re lousy at this.” I started to object when he whispered, “Gia barely got away. McKenzie and Mulligan never left. You only LEND Deycon back to Mike and Sarah every now and then and now Gunner is staying. Foster care is supposed to be temporary. You’re going to have to start giving these dogs back eventually.”

Though we sort of have another Mission Accomplished for Guardian Angels for Soldiers Pet, we also have a new full time roust-about for this village’s resident circus. Anyone know of a military pet that needs a foster home?

- Written by Eileen, Foster Mom in New York.

Gunner’s Story: Part 4

Life in the 3 rings.

It’s been a while so let’s catch up.

My social life took a bit of a change in the beginning of May. My boyfriend and I decided to consolidate homes and he moved in. I was a little concerned that Gunner and Bear2 would take some time to adjust to having another Alpha male around the house. So, for the first few nights, we shared my room with the pups until bed time. Then the boys went to their room and their own beds. I had some expected time off from work so the days were lazy and spring like and J wasn’t alone with the boys. They spent most of their time running in the yard, in the mud and rolling around with each other.

When the time got near for me to return to work I was wondering what would happen. Bear2 has, as we know, always been protective of me and literally herds me away from everyone else. Gunner came to stay when I was the only human living here and kind of took ownership of me as well. Since the new human male moved in, I was expecting some posturing, wariness and perhaps hoping for a little jealousy. On the first day I returned to work, I kept the boys in their room and let J sleep in. That night my grandson DJ came to stay for a few days. Early the next morning, I was tip-toeing around trying not to disturb anyone. After putting coffee on, I re-entered my bedroom to find DJ in my spot, Bear sprawled out across the foot of the bed, with Gunner under the covers between my Little Man and my big man.  I was gone for less than 5 minutes! I guess I thought I played a bigger role than I actually do. Even if I think I am the head of my household, I have to admit, I’m not. I have been relegated to the role of keeper of the kibble and opener of the door.

I am still lucky enough to be allowed to bring my menagerie to work. Bear spends most of his time under my desk, while Gunner visits the kids accompanied by some of the Recreation Department’s staff. He doesn’t walk, he actually struts. He has the cutest grin when he’s happy and can’t figure out what to do first when the boys are up and about. He plays Dodge Ball, but hasn’t quite gotten the concept of staying AWAY from the ball and prefers to tackle it. He approaches the pool area, but only stands in the doorway. It doesn’t stop him from voicing his opinion about it from that perch. He loves playing basketball or at least the running part and wasn’t too thrilled at having to sit out the final tournament game. He hasn’t visited the girls units too much. I think he saw the manicure they gave Dakota and decided that isn’t a fashion statement he needs to make.

Much like his predecessors, Deycon, Gia, Mulligan and McKenzie, this Guardian Angels for Soldier’s Pet has stolen most members of my family. We weren’t sure how Gunner would react to a smaller child, but from the looks of it, I don’t think we need to worry too much. DJ and Gunner are fast and permanent friends. So much for dangerous Pit Bulls! He may not be fierce and scary, but he makes a nice pillow.

He’s an athlete of all sorts. Being the little powerhouse he is, there isn’t enough play time. Though he moved into and took over my home in March, I’m still learning a lot about him. One of the sports he enjoys the most and truly excels at is blanket wrestling. Bear and I were in the kitchen recently when I heard a frightening disturbance in the bedroom: Gunner was snarling, growling and obviously fighting with someone. We had a home invasion last year and the uneasiness is still in the air. I had the cell phone in my hand with 9-1 already dialed. I don’t know what I was going to do if I was confronted with an intruder, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I peeked around the corner and saw Gunner flying through the air, diving onto a pile of bedspread, thrashing about, pouncing away, jumping off the bed, running a few steps, flying back onto the bed, tearing at the blankets all the while snarling and snapping. Do you want to know what he was snarling at? NOTHING!!! Using sheer will, I got my pulse rate down under 200 and called him; he stopped dead in his tracks and gave me his classic “What?” look. Without missing a beat he dove back into the linens and finished the fight. Shaking my head, I went back to cooking dinner.

Staying on the theme of athletics, the village baseball season is in full swing. We live across the street from the fields and can hear the excitement from the house and yard. Though Gunner has stopped jumping and/or climbing over the fences he still wants to be part of this noisy action. I was thinking it might be fun to take him to a later game when the afternoon is cooler. I don’t know what made me think that it would go smoothly. In hindsight, I should have known it would probably involve an ambulance.

This white and brown munchkin is amazingly strong and can drag me along while he’s on a lead so I drove the block and a half to the diamond. We all know he also likes the running, shouting and cheering that go along with the games. While the village does permit animals in the park, they don’t allow them to be attached to any of the park structures or equipment like benches or the bleachers. Not a problem I thought in my naiveté, I’ll just bring my own chair and tie his leash to that. (You can see it coming, can’t you?)

He was basking in the pre-game attention and entertaining the 12 year old boys’ team. We were answering questions about Pit Bulls, fostering and Guardian Angels for Soldiers Pet. He was getting head pats, ear scratches, and kisses and snuggles. He completely won the crowd over when he rolled onto his back for a hundred belly rubs. Oooh’s ahhhs and awwwws were the sounds on the sidelines for a good 5 minutes.

The team took to the dugout and Gunner sat quietly next to me. I later realized that this was just his way of lulling me into a quiet confidence and making me believe all was well. What I didn’t realize was that he was hatching a diabolical plan to make me participate in a gymnastic program that I have been skillfully avoiding since 12th grade.

First batter up took a walk to the base right in front of us. Gunner gave a cheer and was acknowledged. I’m guessing he was coaching first since he was constantly offering advice to the runner. The second player struck out. So far so good. Next young man also walked to first and was also given canine sideline encouragement and instructions by the pittie. Gunner was able to launch his evil strategy and put it into action when the clean-up batter hit a line drive to centerfield. The crowd stood shouting and cheering, the base runners flew to the next bag, the team on the field sprang into their defense and Gunner zipped into action. If I had followed the lead of the other fans, I would have jumped up. I could have jumped up. I should have jumped up. I guess Gunner didn’t like the fact that I didn’t jump up because he ripped the folding chair out from under me tossing me backwards over the canvas seat and flopping onto my way too broad bottom. He dragged the portable camp chair parallel to the foul line by the leash, clipped two parents, almost toppled the water cooler, and had a third spectator jump over the chair before he slammed into the fence.

I don’t know if our team scored. I don’t know if they were tagged out. I don’t know if folks were laughing at him or at me or at both. I don’t know who won the game. I don’t even know if there were any other casualties. What I do know is not to become complacent around an avid baseball fan with four legs that’s stronger than I am while he’s attached to my seat. This foster parenting stuff should include combat pay.

After recovering from the baseball incident… (That’s the second one if you remember) I decided that swimming was a more acceptable sport. I know you’re all snickering and shaking your heads, but don’t get ahead of me here. I bought DJ a 6 foot diameter, 10 inch deep kiddy pool. I also bought a 3 foot by 6 inch pool guessing that my 4 leggers would enjoy a dip every now and then. Mrs. Gunner’s mom alluded to the fact that he likes kiddy pools so I was confident that it would be ok. I put them both up on my deck, assuming I would be avoiding a mud issue and filled them up. They were a big hit with DJ, Gunner and Bear especially with the short heat wave we had. Proud of myself and smirking, I believed I had the issue contained. Oh! Silly me! Think big top! Think tightrope walking!

DJ was splashing around the edge of the pool, chasing Gunner and being watched by Bear. DJ lay down in the water, Gunner lay down in the water. DJ splashed, Gunner splashed. Suddenly DJ had to go potty, so he jumped out of the pool dripping wet and dashed into the house. Gunner did too. DJ was trailing water onto the tile floor and Gunner was following suit. My fault again, I was unsuspecting and headed toward the deck at the same moment DJ and Gunner were spilling past me. As I was calling to them to see what was going on, I began sliding through the puddles. I managed to grab a coat hanging on a hook in the hallway before my right foot was level with my waist and my left elbow hit the wall. I had yet to regain my balance as DJ and Gunner rounded the corner. I want kudos here because I AM learning and did remember to continue to dangle from the wall so as and not be bowled by Bear the caboose.

The tray of snacks was barely saved as I hung from the coat hooks like some bizarre rag doll and attempted to regain my footing. As luck would have it, at the same moment J walked to the head of the hallway and observed the disaster in progress. He took one look at me, the puddle, the foot prints and the floor, shook his head and walked away, eyebrows raised and mumbling to himself.

Considering, I have yet to tell him that Deycon and Dakota are coming for a 2 week visit this month, I’d say the new human fit right in.

- Written by Eileen, Foster Mom in New York.

Gunner’s Story: Part 3

It’s been an active two weeks around here. My first foster, Deycon and his little sister Dakota, came to visit. Having four fur babies to love was my idea of heaven but there were moments from further south as well.

Gunner and Bear must have been feeding off my excitement since they were jumping all over in the morning. I fed them, let them out and got ready to go. They both staged an attempted escape as soon as I opened the front door and I managed to get away alone.

I drove to meet Deycon’s parents in Albany. Of course, I arrived a little early and waited anxiously. When Mike and Sarah finally arrived, I could see Deycon and Dakota jumping around. It was great to see them again. We drove home and hit the dog park on the way to try to tire them out.

When the quiet Deycon and his exact opposite sister got into the house it all began. I didn’t really think I would be grateful that there is so little furniture around here. They jumped, played and moved furniture for about 2 hours. Then they collapsed on my bed, effectively evicting me from that perch. Once dinner was served, it was play time again and I finally surrendered and let them have their way.

The next morning I took Deycon to work with me as planned. He was a big hit and reached one of the boys we had thought unreachable. It was awe inspiring and truly amazing. It shouldn’t have surprised me though… I mean, he does have ME as a foster mother!!! When we got home Gunner staged an inquisition that the Tribunal of the Holy Office would have been proud of. He pounced on Deycon, sniffed, huffed and ran under him and around him. He ran to Deycon, from him, into him and over him. Gunner barked at him for a few minutes and then settled down.

The next two hours yielded three eviscerated stuffed animals, a few spilled bowls of water, my bed moved at least once and a dust cloud of flying fur. Poor Dakota didn’t like the stairs from the deck to the yard very much and ran herself silly going back and forth the length of it yapping at the boys.  I walked her on a lead across to the park and she was greeted by Gunner each time we got back.

Bear2 likes to watch the television and videos on the computer. When I play one, he usually barks and jumps at the screen from next to me. A little confused, Gunner hides under the chair and nips at Bear’s feet. This week he was unseated from this spot by Dakota. Every time I sat down to work she ran under the chair. The boys would gather around me and she took them all to task from under the chair. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was in the way and that I too had lost something. I lost  my authority and all control. She ran the boys most of the week. Gunner, though smallest in stature, is by far the strongest and if I did manage to stay seated, he would push me and the chair trying to get to the puppy.

On Tuesday I took all of them to work. Gunner and Bear kept the boys ward busy, Dakota disappeared onto the girls’ units and Deycon spent the day with his new friend. Gunner chased the boys around the pool, through the day room and out into the court yard. He attacked the basketball, almost knocked over the volley ball pole and finally passed out under my desk.

The ride home was very quiet at first. At first…… On the main thoroughfare from the facility to the Interstate, there was a check point set up by local police and the State Troopers. I really should remember that not everyone has a fur baby attachment. We crawled for a block or so and then I rolled down the driver’s window. The State Trooper checked out the registration and inspection stickers and then leaned over to talk to me. Before I could warn him of my cargo, Gunner took this move as either and introduction or a challenge. From the passenger’s seat he launched himself onto my lap, threw his head out the window and with his body across mine, he let out a volley of barks and howls. He was leaning on the horn at the same time and the 6 foot 4 inch, 280 pound serious faced trooper  in his Stetson and bullet proof vest, flew backward through the air, with a single yell…. “A DOG!”

Not to be outdone, at this particular moment, the other three riders held an impromptu body slamming contest to see who could get his or her head through the partially opened back window first and who had the loudest bark. Resigned to fact I was about to face arrest for assault on a police officer, or perhaps scaring the crap out of one, I put the car in park and didn’t even try to quiet them down. They had me better trained by that time. The trooper stood about 3 feet from the car with his left hand planted in the middle of his chest and half breathing and half panting, he coughed, “You can go, Ma’am.” Gee thanks! I took the first entrance ramp, shook my head and then almost wet my drawers laughing.

My next door neighbors all but ignore Gunner and Bear, but the four of them running around, drew a lot of attention. The girls love to come over to the fence and pet them all. Gunner reminds them periodically that he can climb the fence and loves to play tug of war. They brought their Dad over to the barrier mid week and made him ask if they could take Gunner to the park across the street. We compromised by agreeing that I would bring the pack to their baseball game the next afternoon. I should have seen it coming.

Gunner ran up and down the fence line, barking, yapping and laughing. I kept him on the lead attached to the car. Problem was that his collar was just a teenie tiny bit loose. He twisted out of it and almost tried to catch the runner between home and first. Not to be outdone, Dakota took off across the infield and stopped the game. 24 screaming 7 and 8 year old girls scattered across the diamond and finally caught Dakota. Gunner, the instigator by this time, had returned to my seat and sat there as innocent as you please. I’m waiting on the letter from the Baseball Commissioner banning me from the bleachers.

By the time the visit by D&D’s visit was over there was a huge tally: 1 king sized bed taken over, and moved in part or totally 9 times, 24 car rides, 37 new kid friends, 3 pillows, 1 doggie bed and two comforters de-fluffed, 21 stuffed animals sent to fuzzy toy heaven with at least a dozen socks. 9 chewed bones of varying weight, 15 balls of all sizes, a full bag of flying fur collected off the floor, 1 call to the vet, a slight case of “the trots.” 2 softball games, 3 T-Ball games. We went through 25 pounds of dog food, 10 pounds chicken and 14 bags of ground beef and 7 bags of vet treats. There were at 11 plastic bottles that didn’t make it to the refund machine, 7 trips to the dog park, 35 billion muddy paw prints, 9 extra loads of laundry and 3 extra dishwasher loads. I only hit the floor once, went on-the-butt down the deck steps twice and Gunner made it over the fence 3 times.

He and Bear met hens the people next door bought. Gunner almost had that chicken the last time. I know he’s strong, but I think having him live here is making me faster!  Whether I like it or not.

- Written by Eileen, Foster Mom in New York. 

 

Gunner’s Story: Part 2

I am so happy to announce that Gunner and Bear have given me permission to live here.

In the last few months my human boys moved out and I’ve been cutting expenses, which is funny since it’s not like they really PAID their rent in the first place. ANYWAY! I decided to change from cable to satellite  TV through my phone company to cut about $60 off my monthly bills. Of course, this involves installation, service men, house access etc etc.

Gunner and Bear are my children and I never realize that some people might be a little intimidated by a 95 pound growling (but can’t back it up) Rottweiler and a 60 pound (bark is only a vocal slobbery kiss) Pit Bull. They do however, never fail to remind me.

Early one Monday morning, after I had worked a 16 hour unexpected shift until 7AM, the first installation expert shows up. A little more than sorry that I didn’t re-schedule since we all know that takes forever, I put the boys in the yard and let the man in. About an hour later another serviceman called to confirm his appointment. By that time the boys and I were dozing in my room. Not thinking, I opened the door, the boys ran out, tails wagging, and barks barking in a very loud attempt at being the Welcome Wagon representatives.

The satellite installation guy shot up the ladder, the trainee phone installer dove (and I do mean dove – as in through the window….) dove back into the van, and the senior installer took off across the street. Welcome to my Monday morning! I know that Bear will tour the neighborhood and eventually make his way home (usually escorted by the police like his predecessor Bear1) or just lurk on the porch knowing he’s in trouble. However, I am not sure that Gunner will offer me the same courtesy.

So, here I am, about 10% awake, no shoes, hair looking like Medusa, ratty old T-shirt and shorts on, running across the front lawn after this fast as lightening Pit Bull. Luckily for me, he stopped at the ladder and only tried to climb up. Even more lucky for me, he can’t. I get him into the house and there is Bear2 jumping up and down on his hind legs by the driver’s window, barking at the trainee who can’t get far enough away.

Bear is stronger than I am and I would have paid a lot of money to get video of me trying to drag this stubby tail wagging Rottie into the house. It was not very attractive nor was it very feminine. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got the boys sequestered in my room and went back to the traumatized men. I cannot tell you how relieved I was, down to the very last fiber in my being, to find the three of them standing around making fun of each other and how they had each reacted. I couldn’t apologize enough, but they were really good about it. Eventually all 5 males were together and new friends were made. Thank goodness, I really need the phone and computer!!

I have noticed that these canine companions seem to work as a tag team depending on who wants what. I can be in the kitchen cooking when Bear will come to me and just jump and bark. I follow him into the bedroom and there is Gunner sitting by the doors ready to go out. If Gunner comes to me and barks, then I can bet Bear is sitting by the food bag waiting.

My neighbors have gotten pretty used to these two as well. The fierce barks don’t intimidate anyone who knows them. One of the young girls next door had friends over. When I let the boys out they ran to the fence. Two of her friends got up and ran. She calmly said, “Oh, that’s just Bear and his friend Gunner.” She came over to the fence and the guys almost wagged their hind ends off. I can see no one has ever told them that Rotties and Pitties are dangerous breeds.

Bear and Gunner continue to keep me busy as well. I don’t think they realize that I have enough craziness around here without their input.  Last weekend we had a little bit of rain. I say a little because it wasn’t enough to worry about, unless you have these two around. The yard is mostly scattered patches of grass and lots of open soil. The rain was just enough to make the bare patches a little moist and made it great fun to run through. As a precaution, I had spread old towels by the doors to my bedroom as well as by the mud room door to catch the mud before they got all the way in. I shouldn’t have wasted my time.

I opened the bedroom doors and the first guy in slid across the towels and careened into the bed. Second man in jumped over the first up onto the bed, followed by the other. If paw prints are gifts from the heart, then I am loved more than anyone I know. Lucky for me (and them!!) the wet foot prints washed out of my white bed spread. I really wish they would learn how to go AROUND the bed.

I’m learning a routine more and more from these guys. They have me on a tight schedule. I am not in the least a morning person. I’m usually not really awake until I’m half way to work. Anyway, I’m not sure if he does it to scare me or just doesn’t realize that when he hides, I get a little nervous. Gunner still likes to sleep under the covers. After breakfast, it’s out in the yard at 5AM and then a morning nap. It’s out again at 6 just before I leave. Inow realize the Gunner likes an after breakfast morning nap. More than once I’ve been searching for him, calling his name and wracking my brain trying to remember letting him in. One morning I had gone through the house twice looking for him. I searched closets, bathrooms, upstairs, downstairs, in the yard, on the deck…. no Gunner. As I was throwing on my shoes, the blankets on the bed started moving, I jumped, Bear leaped and Gunner emerged from his warm spot looking at me like I was crazy. He kind of huffed, turned around and went back under the blankets. Since I caught onto the routine, I haven’t lost him again.

True to his nickname, Face, Gunner’s is a very expressive one. Usually I can tell if the boys are up to something by the looks I get from them. Last night I put 5 pounds of flour in a large bowl, mixed it with spices and left it on the kitchen counter. I was (notice I said WAS) going to fry about 15 pounds of chicken for a fundraiser at work. I came into the bedroom to turn off the television when a streak of brown and white shot past me and literally dove onto the bed and under the blankets. Suspicious, and not quite sure what to expect, I called Bear. My beautiful black Rottie kind of slinked into the bedroom completely covered in flour! There was a cloud of white dust spreading from the kitchen, through the dining room and floating directly at me. White powdery paw prints marked the paths they had taken across the hard wood floors. Bear knew he was in trouble and tried to creep away half crawling and half walking. Gunner emerged from under the bed clothes and maintained his innocent look. He actually refused to make eye contact and I just know he was laughing. I was furious! I couldn’t blame either of them. I did leave the bowl on the counter right next to the television and I did hear Bear barking and jumping. I just didn’t make the connection. When I accepted the fact that there was nothing I could do about it, I just laughed, bathed Bear, snuggled Gunner and cleaned it up. The chicken never did get fried, I put it in the freezer and placed an order in at the local fast food deli.

Just think…. this weekend Deycon and his sister are coming to visit for a week….

- Written by Eileen, Foster Mom in New York. 

Gunner’s Story: Part 1

Gunner, The New Guy

A few weeks ago, I welcomed yet another Guardian Angels for Soldier’s Pet foster pup into my home. Gunner, a 6 year old Pit Bull, has a Navy family in flux right now and needs a place to stay.

With a new job, Deycon (my first foster: a 130# Greater Swiss Mountain Dog and his not so little sister coming at regular intervals), and my boys moving out, I guess I didn’t have quite enough chaos in my life!

I was a little leery because my own Rottie, Bear2. He hasn’t had a friend living with us for a while. We did have Deycon, Mulligan and McKenzie, Guardian Angels alumni which we adopted and with whom Bear was familiar. However, Gunner would be smaller in stature than Bear and just as active. Little did I know how accurate that phrase would be!

Gunner’s mom and I chatted on the phone after she liked the email I had written about my foster experiences. The fact I live only about 20 miles from where they would be staying didn’t hurt either! I had requested that I take Gunner alone to meet Bear2. I knew the usual initial male huffing, barking and snarling would take place and that can be disturbing for someone who hasn’t seen it or doesn’t understand it, especially when one of them is your baby.

I picked Gunner up on a Sunday afternoon (an hour late because I hadn’t changed my clock!) and met the powerful and excited boy his mom had described. He couldn’t keep still and I knew he’d be a great match for Bear as soon as they got settled. What I wasn’t sure about was if my house would survive!

I became part of Guardian Angels for Soldier’s Pet because of my daughter. She had to give away her cats before I knew about the organization. Because of that I knew Gunner’s mom and dad would be a little depressed about letting him go but I know that he’ll be back. Dad loaded Gunner’s crate into the back seat of my car and Mom walked him to the front. He jumped right in and made himself at home. Of course Mom cried and Dad looked mournful, but I know when they come to get him, it will be great.

Gunner and I took the long way home to get to know each other. He had his head out the window most of the time and his tail was wagging constantly. He finally did settle down and curled up on the front seat.

As I pulled into the driveway, I could see Bear jumping up at the front window. I took Gunner’s crate out and set it up. First I let Bear sniff the new pup through the front car window. Predictably, Gunner snapped and Bear, much to my surprise, backed down, sat and cocked his head. Aren’t Rottie’s supposed to be fierce? Guess no one ever told Bear! The new pup ran to the other side of the car and so did Bear. The window was opened, they sniffed and Gunner jumped into the back seat. I brought Bear into the house and went back to notice that poor Gunner was shaking with fear in the back seat. (Sorry, Mom, I know this is the first you’re hearing about this, but don’t worry, it turns out okay!)

I snuggled Gunner for a bit and then put him in his crate. I let Bear out of the house and they sniffed barked and …. well this might not sound too hygienic, but I knew it was a good sign: they each raised their leg on the same side of the crate. Bear back in the house, Gunner on a lead and a good hosing down of the crate was next in order.

Then the bigger move: I brought Gunner’s crate into the house, put Gunner in it and let Bear go to him. The whining, crying and yap-like barking was an improvement. Finally, I let the two of them together and I’m kind of sorry I did…. Let me explain.

My boys moved out about 3 months ago and took most of the furniture with them. My stored furniture was in the basement and fell victim, mostly, to Hurricane Irene. These two strong, STRONG…. Did I mention that they’re strong? boys ran through the house, tumbling over one another, sliding on wood floors, jumping and running, knocked off the few pictures I had left on the walls and shook the house. The echoes are incredible!

They played for over 4 hours. My guess was that they get along! Gunner’s mom and I made contact to ease her concerns and she’s thrilled that’s he’s okay. Sure! He’s okay, but I’m never going to be the same: Dogs sliding into the kitchen table, through the mud room, into the empty living room and dining room, barking, and panting with flying doggie hair all over the place. Truth be told, I LOVE it! Deycon, my first foster, and his best friend, my grandson, haven’t been around since December and I know Bear has missed playing like this.

After the second hour had past, the boys collapsed: tails wagging and tongues lolling out of their mouths. Some rest, dinner and water and they were off again.

Bear is a bit of a clown and loves to watch my television. It’s up on top of a cabinet (good thing) and he spends ages jumping up and down in front of it, barking, snapping and whining at whatever is on. Designing Women is the only show he is quiet for. Well, now we have the new guy in on it. There is a dog barking on the TV, Bear barking at the dog barking on the TV and now Gunner barking at Bear barking at the dog barking on the TV. I dare not watch anything that has running or fighting in it. The house shakes!

Gunner’s mom gave me a lot of information about him and one piece in particular that I wish I had really listened to. She said he should stay on a lead when he’s in the yard, and even gave me one, because he can jump fences. Late the first night, rather I should say very early the next morning, both boys were doing the pee-pee dance at my bedroom doors. I just opened the doors and let them out. They ran around the yard, did their business and quick as a whip, Gunner went over the fence. In his defense, that kitty was a little snippy! So here I was at 3 in the morning, pj’s and slippers, chasing Gunner around my neighbor’s yard. He obviously thought it was a game. Then quick as he went over, he jumped back, ran up onto the deck with Bear and the two of them sat there looking at me like I was the crazy one. Needless to say, Gunner now stays on the lead!

This guy’s a real joker too. Bear knows exactly how far Gunner’s lead will let him go and manages to run just outside of it. Welllllll, not to be outdone, Gunner lurks under the deck and as Bear runs across the yard, he times it perfectly to pounce on the Rottie with the precision of an NFL linebacker. Everyone tumble in the dirt, Bear runs out of reach and Gunner retreats under the deck for the next run!

One piece of information that Mom did not give me is that Gunner likes to sleep under the covers. One night I almost had a heart attack when I rolled over and something starting licking my leg! After that, it became quite amusing. My real problem is that even in a king sized bed, there doesn’t seem to be enough room for all three of us. I have waken up on the very edge of the bed, legs numb because Gunner likes to sleep on them and I’m unable to move because Bear is sleeping, and snoring I might add, laying back to back with me with his head on my pillow! I’ve been eying the futon in the sitting room, but I’m not so sure they’d leave me alone there. I’m wondering if there will be enough room when Deycon and his little sister, Dakota, come to visit in May! Luckily they have their own beds….. but come to think of it, so do Bear and Gunner! Better hold off on buying furniture until after the summer!

Last Saturday, March 17, was Gunners 6^nth birthday and Mom sent a box of treats. One was a bag of doggie bacon treats that came in a zip lock pouch. Two nights ago, a pint of Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream was calling me from the freezer and I decided to answer. My imagination had the bowl filled with the green treat covered in the sliced almonds from a bag in the kitchen cabinet. Guess I should have turned on the light. The bacon treats did NOT go well with the ice cream. Frankly, they don’t taste like bacon at all – in case you were wondering.

Good thing I’m used to living in a circus!

- Written by Eileen, Foster Mom in New York.