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An update on Rebel!
This is Rebel, starting to look like a proper Sr. citizen, because now he actually IS one. He isn't isn't a shut down dog who just looks like one because of his neglect.

An update on Rebel!

It's been almost exactly 5 years since that sad dog came into my home (November 12, 2014) and today I received this: 

Rebel, starting to look like a proper Sr. citizen, because now he actually IS one! He isn't a shut down dog, who just looks like one because of his neglect.

How old is he? Well, the woman who gave him to rescue said he was 7. I'm guessing he was probably close so that, which makes him about 12. That's great because when he came to me I thought for sure she was lying and he was closer to 11. 

I watched as Rebel got better and literally started looking younger and younger. His fur became shiny and his gaunt frame became healthy. He could lift his head and run! Ok... trot. But it was close to a run!  

Every so often my friend Kate takes care of him for Rebel's new mom Sue when she goes away. Every so often I'm thrilled to get a photo and update about him. Every so often I get nostalgic and so happy to know what his life is like now and how far he's come. He's loved, he's cared for, he's happy. What more could a foster mom want? 

Rebel when he was visiting Kate in May with his pals Piper (right) and Kip (left)


See his full journey: A Foster Dog's Journey |  Rebel's Update | Rebel's Return!  | Rebel Goes Home

A Foster Dog's Journey: Rebel Goes Home
Yesterday was hard. So very hard. It's been 6 months since Rebel came to stay with us a...

A Foster Dog's Journey: Rebel Goes Home

Yesterday was hard. So very hard. It's been 6 months since Rebel came to stay with us and he's finally gone to his forever home. 

I gave Reb a bath the day before and on Friday night I told him he was going to his new home. He looked at me with his big blue eyes, not understanding what I was saying. He did know I wanted to go for a ride so that was good. He obediently got into the car with no help from me needed. 

Rebby after his bath, looking dapper

We drove in the pouring rain, in the dark to my friend's house. Another Foster who would take him to his forever home. She was taking him because I thought it would be easier to say goodbye to him there, than at his new home. .. but I was wrong. It wasn't easier. 

When we arrived, we dashed to her front door. I brought his coat (he hated the cold) his duck, his food and handed him over to Kate. She hugged me and and that's when the tears started. I said I better leave before I got too emotional. I looked at Rebel and he was concerned. He could sense I was not happy and tried to leave with me. I saw a hint of fear and a lot of confusion and that's what killed me. I was leaving him. Again. Again the human he was supposed to trust was abandoning him. I couldn't take it so I said "I better go." and rushed out. I looked back and could see him standing anxiously in the full length sidelight not wanting to be left. In my mind I imagined what he would have said if he could. "Where are you going? Why can't I come? Take me with you!" He wanted to come with me. Wasn't he supposed to come with me? 

I dashed to my car and sat in the dark. The pouring rain pounding on my car and let out an agonized cry. The tears and sobbing couldn't be controlled. "Oh God! How could I do this to him again! I'm sorry Rebel! I'm sorry! Oh GOD I'm SO SORRY REBEL!" I felt like I failed him again. One more human in a string of humans who let him down. 

I drove home crying the whole way. The windshield washers pushed the rain aside, while I pushed the tears away so I could see. I was glad it was a long drive because I needed the entire time to cry myself out. 

Kate called me on Saturday to let me know he was now in his new forever home. Somehow I didn't take solace in that because I knew he was confused and a little frightened once again. Rationally I knew he would be fine. Better than fine. I knew he would be happy and loved the way he deserved to be loved. But I also knew dogs live in the moment and at this moment, Rebel wanted to be with someone he knew. 

Knowing how much he went through though, I know he will adjust and once again bounce back. I just hated giving him one last blow to his spirit. But just as I know he's not happy right now, I know in a week he will start to come around and in a week, after that, he'll start to love and every week, for the rest of his life, he'll be loved. 

Goodbye Rebel. I will miss you. 

Rebel with his new mom Sue, on his adoption day April 18th, 2015
Rebel's collar with his new tag on. The first tag ever with his name on it.
Rebels first tag with his name on it. It wasn't just a serial number from rescue and I doubt he ever had one before this. 

See his full journey: A Foster Dog's Journey | A Foster Dog's Journey: Rebel's Update | Rebel's Return!  | A Foster Dog's Journey: Rebel Goes Home

And still more funny dog cartoons

And still more funny dog cartoons





Still More Funny Dog Cartoons

Still More Funny Dog Cartoons






More Funny Dog Cartoons

More Funny Dog Cartoons













A Foster dog's journey: Rebel's update
Rebel had his final heartworm treatments last week. It was especially rough because h...

A Foster dog's journey: Rebel's update

Rebel had his final heartworm treatments last week. It was especially rough because he had receive treatment two days in a row and the shots are quite painful. It was hard leaving him on the first of his two visits. The last sight of Rebel that morning, was of him with a vet tech who had to practically drag him away as he looked pleadingly at me to save him. It broke my heart.

As bad as that was, day 2 was even worse. That second morning, when we went out to the car, he wouldn’t get in and had to be lifted. At the vet my husband had to practically push him through the door and again, he would not go with the tech. We felt like we were leading the lamb to slaughter, but this time, the lamb knew exactly what awaited him. He didn’t struggle or nip at anyone, instead, he quietly acquiesced to our wishes. If that wasn’t heart breaking enough, when we arrived home that evening, instead of being happy to be there, he didn’t want to get out of the car. Was he afraid of what we might do to him? It simply broke my heart. I coaxed and pleaded with him, promising I wouldn’t let him be hurt again. When I tried to reach for him he laid back to escape my reach. Finally after some tugging on his leash, he decided to move. Once inside the house he looked tentative.

I gave him some pain medication; he ate his dinner and went to lie down. A soft barely audible whimper came from him as he lay in the darkened room. I sat with him, stroking his head wondering how many times he sat, enduring his pain alone. I could only think of all of the people who hurt him in the past. The gun shots, the bullets, the missing teeth, all of the pain he was left to endure alone. I whispered to him telling him he wasn’t alone any more, while wishing he understood me. It was a long night and each soft, almost inaudible cry, broke my heart a little more than the previous one.

Day two was better, but he looked as if his spirit was broken again. It looked as if all of our progress was gone and I felt helpless to tell him we hadn’t abandoned him. Day 3 and 4 passed, and with them, the pain from the injection. On day 5, I saw a little spark return to him. I picked up his leash for a short walk to go potty and he brightened up and did his little happy dance. My heart jumped with delight. I think I was happier than he was quite frankly. Knowing he hadn’t given up meant the world do me.

Rebel began to return to us and started to enjoy his quiet life again. He began carrying his ducky around and came trotting over at the sound of the treat jar. Things had returned to normal and I was thankful that this ever-forgiving soul chose to forgive one more time.

So we continue, Rebel and I, taking pleasure in our short walks, and hopefully giving him reasons to have faith in humans again.


Ball Detector
After I lost my dog Phebe one of the first drawings I created was “ball detector”. It...

Ball Detector

After I lost my dog Phebe one of the first drawings I created was “ball detector”. It represented some of my favorite memories with her. When drawing, I could imagine her perfectly and see her on one of our walks in the woods when she would suddenly scamper off and return proudly with a tennis ball. She never ceased to amaze me with that little skill of hers. She adored playing fetch so much that she seemed to find them wherever we went

She found tennis balls at friend’s houses, on college campuses, school yards, golf courses, in the woods, on beaches, … you name a place and she probably found a tennis ball there. I rarely ever bought them because if we ran low, we would simply go down to the tennis courts and I would let her collect as many as she could find in the bushes.

Her gift for finding balls extended to anything I asked her to find and bring back. I would say, “find it” and she would search the area until she found whatever the requested item was. A friend once threw a stick for our dogs and it inadvertently went over an 8 foot high, chain link fence, into the woods. We assumed it was gone, but Phebe watched on alert as it flew, tracking it in the air. When it landed, she was off in a flash to retrieve it. She ran several hundred yards away from us to where the fence ended and then she circled behind, into the woods to find it. I’ll never forget my friend’s exclamation as we watched her. “If she finds that exact stick, I’m going to [insert slightly off color remark about his pants here]! I silently cheered her on as she began her hunt amongst the MILLIONS of sticks in the undergrowth of the woods. “Come on Phebe! You can do it! I know you can!” I shouted, to no one but myself. We watched as she circled, head low sniffing out her quarry. She suddenly stopped, dropped her head into the undergrowth and emerged with … THE EXACT STICK! I was so proud of her I cheered quite audibly this time, “GOOD GIRL PHEBE!” As she ran back down the fence line and around to us I laughed and asked him if he wanted to go home and change his pants. His only remark was “UNBELIEVABLE!” I just smiled and thought, “Believe it.”

She really retrieved anything for me and I honestly didn’t realize how much I relied on her little gift until she was gone. I now had to go out into the yard and bring the dog toys in myself, or retrieve the ball after the other dogs lost interest. Somehow playing fetch was never the same after Phebe died. The Chuck-It that went everywhere with us, began to collect dust as the joy faded from the game.

I cherish the memory of her ability to find and retrieve so well, not only because it was what she loved to do most in life, but because at the very end, it was those very memories that brought her peace. As I held her in my arms, our last moments together, she struggled to breath and seamed agitated as she shifted trying to find a position she could relax in. I don’t know my reasoning really, but I began to tell her what a wonderful dog she was so I could remember all of the wonderful things we did together. Something happened in those moments and we were granted some peace, and what felt like a true understanding on her part. I started, “Do you remember how you could always find a ball no matter where it was? And how you made sure you always found YOUR ball, not some other dog’s ball?” She suddenly began to relax as if to say, “yes, mamma, I do. Tell me more.” I continued and she relaxed her head a little more into my hands as she listened. “Do you remember how we would go for long walks in the woods and you would always find a ball somewhere?” She seemed to miraculously breathe a bit easier as her tension dissipated and she listened to the sound of my voice. Seeing her calm down, I went on hoping it was somehow helping her. I reminisced about how much she loved playing fetch and how she would bring back whatever I asked her to; even the toys the other dogs left in the yard. I remembered other things, like the way she and Jack would take off running for the pure joy of it and always came back from some unexpected direction. I told her how she took care of us all and always made sure I knew if the water bowl was empty, or that it was time for dinner. Each little story helped her relax a bit more and gain some comfort as we reviewed our life together.

She let the weight of her body relax into mine and as the vet approached, I knew our time was at an end. I whispered to her how much I loved her now and for the rest of my days. The doctor began her procedure and as Phebe slipped into sleep, I said, “Run like the wind my baby girl. Run and be free. I will always love you.” I sobbed when she was gone, but I was grateful she was no longer in pain. I knew she was holding on for me, and the last gift I could give her, was to set her free.

Contrary to what you might think, I always feel happy when I look at “ball detector”. I don’t think about losing her, but instead think about our happy days together, finding tennis balls in the woods. There is also a special comfort that comes when someone identifies his or her own dog in my drawing. It makes me happy to know that there are millions of “Ball Detectors” out there, finding joy in every little yellow ball that they discover.

Do All Dogs Go to Heaven?
Well, Pope Francis is stirring the pot again…in a good way.  He made some recent commen...

Do All Dogs Go to Heaven?

Well, Pope Francis is stirring the pot again…in a good way.  He made some recent comments that have renewed the debate about whether or not dogs (and other animals) go to heaven. 

He said: “The Holy Scripture teaches us that the fulfillment of this wonderful design also affects everything around us,” which was interpreted to mean he believes animals go to heaven.  At least that’s how a LOT of people are interpreting it.

“My inbox got flooded,” said Christine Gutleben, senior director of faith outreach at the Humane Society, the largest animal protection group in the United States. “Almost immediately, everybody was talking about it.”

Typically, Catholic doctrine has it that animals cannot go to heaven because they have no soul.  But Pope Francis is giving that notion a run for its money.  Here at Phebe-n-Me, we’re siding with the Pope.

It’s interesting to note that he has an approval rating in the U.S. of 78% according to the Washington Post .  With all this going on, we bet his approval rating among dog owners is around 99%.


Read more at:

USA Today

New York Times

Getting lucky
Sometimes in life you get lucky. You may stumble upon your luck, adopt it, or even plan...

Getting lucky

Sometimes in life you get lucky. You may stumble upon your luck, adopt it, or even plan and research for years. Regardless of how you came upon it, you got lucky. Fate brought you to your once in a lifetime dog. The perfect dog. The dog that touches your heart in ways you can’t even describe to people.


Phebe was that dog for me. She grabbed my heart from the moment I looked at her, and never let it go. She was my Lassie, and my Rin Tin Tin, with a dash of Einstein and Lucille Ball for spice. I was definitely in over my head with this girl and she had me coming and going.

Throughout our journey together she taught me that the best things in life are the simple things. Greet those you love with enthusiasm when they come home, love them fiercely, defend them bravely and above all, make them give you treats. I learned that not only can you laugh every day, but forgiving is easy and sweetness and love can melt the most hardened of hearts.

When you get lucky in life with a wonderful dog, every day is a celebration. Even your sad times have a smile, and tears are kissed away. Phebe introduced me to the wonderful experiences that only a dog can bring and as a designer, she inspired me to draw her escapades. Through her, I learned to see the world through doggy eyes and found that the world is a wonderful place to be.

Unfortunately dogs don’t live forever but for me, she lives on through Phebe-n-Me. Phebe and her many dog friends continue to inspire me and have brought love and laughter to people all over the globe. Above all, she always reminds me that it’s ok to wear your heart on your sleeve.


I miss you my girl.