Prince, Heath Ledger, Whitney Houston, Bobbi Kristina Brown, Chris Farley, River Phoenix, Elvis Presley, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Williams, Michael Jackson, George Michael... A long list continues.
Hollywood high-rollers who appeared to have it all but just couldn't cope with life on terra firma.
Fame, money, fame, money, and fame. Shoes. Gucci bags. Numerous homes. Travel. Women. Anything money could buy. Fame. And more money. But clearly, those things aren't cures for the hurts deep within each of us.
Have you ever asked yourself why?
The One that created you, that created me, created us with, as the song goes, a "God-shaped hole" in all of us. That longing for something, for satisfaction, for peace, for answers, for 'why am I here?' --- for something Supernatural can only be filled by our Maker Himself.
Jesus says in John's gospel, "But whoever drinks the water I give them will NEVER THIRST..." and Jesus continues..."I am the Bread of LIFE. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 4:14 and John 6:35.)
These poor souls were tormented by this longing for something more, but instead of running toward God, they ran from Him - and to things that couldn't satisfy their longings.
God can be known and He wants you to know Him so He can satisfy the hunger and thirst in you.
I do hope you'll consider these things.
Friday, December 30, 2016
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Thank you Father
Nobody really prepares you for that time in your life when the roles are reversed and the strongest man in your earthly world begins to weaken.
This is happening right now to me, and being an eye witness to it is almost suffocating.
A man characterized by the tenacity, internal fortitude and hardworking grit of three men, a man with a strong constitution, always in-charge, has an answer and a plan for every situation (even when you didn't ask), a born leader, never ever give up attitude, GPS in his brain (he knew every exit number of every toll road by heart), shoulders strong enough for all of us to lean on...
Don't misread this; he's not acutely ill, but I see changes in him - and it feels way too soon.
In what seems like the time when I need my daddy the most, when I'm wrecked and tempest-tossed, to whom can I turn?
The answer: Jesus. The byproduct of watching my hero grow frail - it causes me to fall harder into the strong arms of my Heavenly Father, staying low and dependent on Him which is ultimately where I should seek safe refuge.
Proverbs 18:10
"The name of the Lord is a STRONG TOWER. The righteous runneth into it, and is safe."
This is one of his favorites he quoted me yesterday. And from the KJV. ALWAYS the KJV...
"So shall they fear the name of the Lord from the west, and his glory from the rising of the sun. When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the spirit of the Lord shall raise up a standard against him." Isaiah 59:19
Thursday, October 20, 2016
If I were thin, I'd be dangerous
Sometimes, like every day, I ask myself - had I been born with a knock out bod, or legs that could stop a clock, would I be happy? (Uh, yeah!) If I could trade this hypo-metobolic, swashbuckling mess for a svelte, statuesque physique, would that change my life for the better? (Uh, HECK YEAH!!) If I looked more like, say...oh my gosh, any ONE of my numerous, gorgeous real-life friends (and not Fakebook friends, I actually know these gals) would I have more money? Be happily married? Good question.
Although I know what God's Word says about comparing myself to others and I GET that He Himself made me beautiful and unique (yaddah, yaddah, whatever), these are questions, maybe even lies, I let float through my head during a normal day.
Last night while watching the 3rd and final Presidential Debate (insert boos or hollers here), I thought it would be a scream if I bet my friends ---- "If Hillary wins, we all get nose-piercings!" I thought about announcing that to my pals and them rolling their eyes at me instead of howling in laughter like I did. Wouldn't that be rad? I'm how old? Oh, I forget. But I'm ready for some drastic midlife crisis slash piercing. (Oh how lame. Is that the best I can do?)
...Sorry, I was just finishing up serving the children a massaged kale salad for lunch. Ok fine, Red Baron frozen pizza.
Then I thought a tattoo would really shock 'em. But then I remembered I don't have any area, rather mass, on me that would be an acceptable canvas for ink. I hate my arms. My back. My legs. My... Well I DO have a very handsome arches. So a tattoo on the soles of my feet? Oh, this is just dumb.
Don't believe me? Take my friend Trulissa* for instance. She's beautiful, smart and slender. She's married to a lawyer and presently lives in Italy (formerly a resident of Hawaii and who knows where she'll end up next. Certainly not Eddystone.) She has the perfect life because she is pretty, right?
Then there's my friend, Smaroline*. With the looks of a Glamour Magazine model (is that still in publication?) she too is married to a lawyer, lives very, very comfortably, she travels and her husband is her best friend. Because she is stunning, right?
Lastly, my friends Mindy*, Planet* and Tadrienne* (it's so hard to pick just one). Oh and my cousin Mauren*. All married to men that adore them. They live in homes the likes I've only seen in magazines, are happy, travel, have the wherewithal to buy virtually anything they want. All because they're so good looking, right?
Surely that can't be the truth, but fighting these thoughts has become my job of late.
So what does God say about me?
Proverbs 31:30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. (Now we're talkin'!)
And because years ago I decided to stop living for myself and gave my heart to Jesus,
1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
I may not feel like radiant royalty, but God says that I am. So I'm just going to have to take Him on His word.
Maybe it's a good thing I'm not drop dead gorgeous. I'd be dangerous.
*Names have been changed to protect the fabulous.
Although I know what God's Word says about comparing myself to others and I GET that He Himself made me beautiful and unique (yaddah, yaddah, whatever), these are questions, maybe even lies, I let float through my head during a normal day.
Last night while watching the 3rd and final Presidential Debate (insert boos or hollers here), I thought it would be a scream if I bet my friends ---- "If Hillary wins, we all get nose-piercings!" I thought about announcing that to my pals and them rolling their eyes at me instead of howling in laughter like I did. Wouldn't that be rad? I'm how old? Oh, I forget. But I'm ready for some drastic midlife crisis slash piercing. (Oh how lame. Is that the best I can do?)
...Sorry, I was just finishing up serving the children a massaged kale salad for lunch. Ok fine, Red Baron frozen pizza.
Then I thought a tattoo would really shock 'em. But then I remembered I don't have any area, rather mass, on me that would be an acceptable canvas for ink. I hate my arms. My back. My legs. My... Well I DO have a very handsome arches. So a tattoo on the soles of my feet? Oh, this is just dumb.
Don't believe me? Take my friend Trulissa* for instance. She's beautiful, smart and slender. She's married to a lawyer and presently lives in Italy (formerly a resident of Hawaii and who knows where she'll end up next. Certainly not Eddystone.) She has the perfect life because she is pretty, right?
Then there's my friend, Smaroline*. With the looks of a Glamour Magazine model (is that still in publication?) she too is married to a lawyer, lives very, very comfortably, she travels and her husband is her best friend. Because she is stunning, right?
Lastly, my friends Mindy*, Planet* and Tadrienne* (it's so hard to pick just one). Oh and my cousin Mauren*. All married to men that adore them. They live in homes the likes I've only seen in magazines, are happy, travel, have the wherewithal to buy virtually anything they want. All because they're so good looking, right?
Surely that can't be the truth, but fighting these thoughts has become my job of late.
So what does God say about me?
Proverbs 31:30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. (Now we're talkin'!)
And because years ago I decided to stop living for myself and gave my heart to Jesus,
1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
I may not feel like radiant royalty, but God says that I am. So I'm just going to have to take Him on His word.
Maybe it's a good thing I'm not drop dead gorgeous. I'd be dangerous.
*Names have been changed to protect the fabulous.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Things Commonly Heard on the Road to Chapter 11
You know what's fun? Living a life that's so amusing, it's worth writing about.
Herein is a list of things commonly heard being the wife of a guy who's been out of work a lot.
THEM: Awwww. How's it going? Any leads?
ME:(I curl the corner of my mouth, shake my head lightly and exhale...) No.
THEM: So how's he doing?
ME: The same.
THEM: But you haven't lost your sense of humor. You're still so perky!
ME: Yeah? Here. Let me high five you. In the face. With this chair.
THEM: But what about that job he interviewed for...you know, a couple months ago?
ME: Oh yeah, that? Yes, he's the CEO of that Fortune 500 company now. And I have a private jet.
THEM: So have you thought about going back to work?
ME: Yes. Yes I have. I figure between running the household and homeschooling my children, the graveyard shift would be a perfect fit for me. I would just have to give up sleeping.
THEM: Well, please let me know if I can do anything to help.
ME: How about you list me as a dependent on your AETNA PPO for a few months. Retroactive to 2015.
THEM: Is he depressed?
ME: Is the Pope Catholic?
THEM: And what would you like on your burger?
ME: Government cheese, I guess.
THEM: I saw the other day 7-Eleven is hiring!
ME: Oh. You're so pretty.
THEM: I want to help! I'D LOVE TO HAVE YOU ON MY TEAM (read: I'll earn commissions by being my downline) in RODAN & FIELDS!!
ME: (Get the paddles.....charging......CLEAR!!)
To those of you who genuinely care, this is all in good fun. Thank you for your concern. xo
Herein is a list of things commonly heard being the wife of a guy who's been out of work a lot.
THEM: Awwww. How's it going? Any leads?
ME:(I curl the corner of my mouth, shake my head lightly and exhale...) No.
THEM: So how's he doing?
ME: The same.
THEM: But you haven't lost your sense of humor. You're still so perky!
ME: Yeah? Here. Let me high five you. In the face. With this chair.
THEM: But what about that job he interviewed for...you know, a couple months ago?
ME: Oh yeah, that? Yes, he's the CEO of that Fortune 500 company now. And I have a private jet.
THEM: So have you thought about going back to work?
ME: Yes. Yes I have. I figure between running the household and homeschooling my children, the graveyard shift would be a perfect fit for me. I would just have to give up sleeping.
THEM: Well, please let me know if I can do anything to help.
ME: How about you list me as a dependent on your AETNA PPO for a few months. Retroactive to 2015.
THEM: Is he depressed?
ME: Is the Pope Catholic?
THEM: And what would you like on your burger?
ME: Government cheese, I guess.
THEM: I saw the other day 7-Eleven is hiring!
ME: Oh. You're so pretty.
THEM: I want to help! I'D LOVE TO HAVE YOU ON MY TEAM (read: I'll earn commissions by being my downline) in RODAN & FIELDS!!
ME: (Get the paddles.....charging......CLEAR!!)
To those of you who genuinely care, this is all in good fun. Thank you for your concern. xo
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Avoiding the Pitfalls of Adoption
This is a story warning about pet rescues, specifically dog adoptions, and may only interest some of you. So read, or skim, at will. Here we go....
Sometimes, when the head of the home is unemployed, he has a lot of extra time to search 'the internets' for free stuff, good deals and lots and lots of dogs looking for their "furver" homes. (If I see that phrase one more time.) This isn't a husband bashing post, I'm just simply laying the foundation for this story. One would think these hours would probably be best spent, I dunno, replacing faulty bath fixtures or maybe purging the garage of our tool hoard or maybe even looking for work. (Again, not a bash, just making suggestions aloud. And this is nothing I haven't said to him personally.) Recently we found ourselves in the home of a puppy foster mother with 6-8 adoptable 8 week old puppies. Fascinating! But where did they come from? How did she acquire them? And more importantly, WHAT THE HECK WERE WE DOING THERE?
Rewind to Christmastime: We had our eyes peeled for a canine companion for my mature parents. After seeing an ad on the Chesco SPCA site, my husband took a road trip the very next day to see the pooch. He arrived two hours before they opened to secure his spot in line. I proudly equipped him with my impressive list of personal and Vet references because I'm acquainted with their rigid (and understandably so) application process. Ha. So much for that. He was the only patron there! After a rather cold welcome, they spent an unusual amount of time cross-examining him about his application; about the cats we had to put down nine years ago and the fact that the kitties we recently rescued from a junkyard weren't spayed or vaccinated yet. (They were only months old!) They went out of their way to try to pin something inhumane on us. It was ridiculous. The next day we called and learned our application was not accepted due to our "questionable pet history". (Yeah. We are cruel, not to be trusted.)
Fast Forward to February: Paul whispered something to me and flashed his phone in front of my face; an advertisement for adorable Pug puppies being fostered in Chester County. I thought the puppy was cute and that was that. He showed me the post on Craigslist and I said, "YOU CANNOT SHOP FOR A PUPPY ON CRAIGSLIST!" (I roared, actually. It helps me get my point across quicker.) He told me to relax and showed me that the Craigslist ad provided a Facebook page owned by the same organization. Well, that made sense as the SPCA and many legitimate rescues have FB pages. Hesitantly, we made an appointment to see the puppies (a Pug/Bulldog has been on our list for so long) after all, if we got there and it didn't feel right, we'd move on. We'd escaped the SPCA empty handed several times previously, so I knew we had the ability to say no. Before making the appointment I spoke to the foster mom on the phone at length. She seemed like a nice gal, probably around my age, and tenderly spoke of these particular Pug puppies being surrendered after 'the death in a family (in Pennsylvania) left a grown man with special needs as an orphan; unable to care for the dog and her five or six puppies'. Aw. That WAS a sad story. I asked about several of the other puppies available on their Facebook page. "Where are all the adoptable ADULT dogs??" They seemed to have unlimited litters of 8 week old puppies! So many more than I had ever seen before! I was told that this rescue was just getting started -- and being new didn't have the funding needed to care for adult dogs that usually come with expensive health issues (arthritis, allergies, etc...) She assured me that they DO adopt out adult dogs, but those dogs were featured on her sister's animal rescue site; an outfit in Media, PA under a different name. They are more established and have the wherewithal to handle older dogs. Oh? Ok.
Seconds after we arrived in Spring City to see the Pug pups, my son immediately fell in love with a male Pug. Together my son and I admired his enormous eyes and funny features. But when I looked across the room I found my youngest boy with 7 puppies sleeping on his lap and he was in love, too. He pointed to one puppy in particular that stopped his heart. My husband (yes, we're still married at this juncture) picked up the sleepy puppy and held him six centimeters from my face. "LOOOOOK how CUUUUUUTE!", he squealed. I quickly snapped, "Get him away!" I wanted nothing to do with helplessly falling in love with more than one puppy that day.
I dragged my husband outside and we had words over this very issue. I guess I lost that debate... His reasons included the size of the puppies - "they really won't eat much, their waste is small, in comparison, and they only have small teeth so they can't really do considerable household damage..." My husband left a deposit and we were to return 4 days later when the pups were old enough to be released.
I worried for four days straight, stared at the ceiling, put the milk in the cupboard, didn't answer my phone. What in the world are we going to do? We cannot get two more puppies and my husband isn't changing his mind.
A year ago, during a visit to Lancaster County, we accidentally ended up at the home of an Amish breeder. He was our buggy driver during a tour of the back roads of Lancaster and I immediately made him my close, personal friend (whether he liked it or not) and within a matter of minutes learned that he and his wife bread English Bulldogs. (Our favorite.) Mr. Esh needed a ride home after his shift and I immediately offered to take him home!! WHY NOT!!?!? When we dropped him off, he graciously invited us to see his dogs, his home, walk his property. We were in love. Later that day, we came back to meet his wife who handles all the dog biz. She seated us at her kitchen table. It was warm, dimly lit and comfortable. She had dinner simmering on the stove. (Oh, the irony! Earlier that day we had paid "Plain & Fancy" for a tour of a mock-up Amish home. This was way more authentic.) After our visit, we left our number for her to notify us when the next litter of pups arrived.
During our Lancaster vacation and back at the hotel, I started doing some research and came up with some very concerning facts about breeders in the 717 area code. I shared some photos and my friends suggested I was most likely at a puppy mill. I was in denial. But they had very few dogs. It was clean. Not a lot of barking. My husband thought I was nuts.
I contacted a very well known rescue in the Greater Philadelphia area by email. I wanted to learn more about how to I.D. a puppy mill. She said it was pretty easy. If the breeders are Amish, it's most likely a mill. They breed for money. (But don't all breeders?) They don't name the dogs, they are left in rabbit hutches, they are unheated and they produce litter after litter until they are unprofitable. The owner of this local rescue (Finding Shelter) was so helpful and begged me not to get a puppy from the Esh's. I had made my mind up that she was right and I wanted nothing to do with Amish dog breeders any more. (My husband still thought I was nuts - "Not everybody's out to get you, Sheryl.")
Back to the present-day situation. My stomach churned for days and we set up a meeting to pick up the puppies in Spring City. But before then, I made a call to the owner of this rescue. I had lots of questions. Why did they have so many puppies? Where did they come from? When you adopt from the SPCA, the animals come spayed and neutered to prevent more unwanted puppies! Why didn't this rescue take the same precautions? "I'm sorry to grill you, but I'm just trying to make sure you're a bonafide rescue." I asked and she answered. She had ALL the right answers. "We're just a bunch of moms who rescue puppies." Awwww. Isn't that special? I forced myself to trust her.
When it was time to fetch our puppies, the foster mother offered to drop off the puppies since she was coming "to the mall" that night. Oh. That was nice. Saves us a trip. Little did we know she wouldn't be coming to our home, but meeting us at 7pm, in the dark, in the cold, in a remote area of the PARKING LOT of the mall. She handed us the puppies, said they hadn't eaten yet (it was 7pm!!)because she was at work all day, gave us the vaccine report and that was it. She had two other puppies in the car being picked up at the same time. Oh, and the check? Was made payable to her. Not the shelter. I KNEW IT.
Welp. Here we were. The owners of two new puppies from a dealer. Not a shelter. I was going to be the shame of the dog park. Tarred and feathered, no doubt.
Please use caution and do your homework before getting a dog from a dealer (posing as a rescue.) Clues that I suspected but ignored: 1) The foster mom was a single mom with 3 children, working as a waitress, trying to keep her home. Surely she wasn't fostering because she had lots of extra time??? Needed more responsiblities?? 2) The Facebook page they ran didn't have the option for patrons to grade them with a review. 3) The payment was made directly to the foster, not a shelter with a 501c3. 4) The application they made me complete was too abbreviated and they never checked my Vet or personal references. 5) Days after the adoption, I texted the foster with questions about coccidia. She answered me by saying she was in North Carolina. (Picking up more puppies?????)
6) My spirit of discernment (womens' intution) was on amber alert. I should have stopped there.
My plans are to report this shelter and foster to PA Dog Law and share my story so others don't end up ensnared in the same mess. Here's where to go...
http://www.agriculture.pa.gov/Protect/DogLaw/Pages/default.aspx#.VuqdlOaH_hA
*DEALERS MASQUERADING AS RESCUES:
Hinde's Animal Safe-haven
STAR Wags & Whiskers
*EXCELLENT RESCUES I RECOMMEND
Delco SPCA
Finding Shelter Animal Rescue
Francisvale Home for Smaller Animals
S.N.O.R.T. Short Noses Only Rescue Team
among others...
Sometimes, when the head of the home is unemployed, he has a lot of extra time to search 'the internets' for free stuff, good deals and lots and lots of dogs looking for their "furver" homes. (If I see that phrase one more time.) This isn't a husband bashing post, I'm just simply laying the foundation for this story. One would think these hours would probably be best spent, I dunno, replacing faulty bath fixtures or maybe purging the garage of our tool hoard or maybe even looking for work. (Again, not a bash, just making suggestions aloud. And this is nothing I haven't said to him personally.) Recently we found ourselves in the home of a puppy foster mother with 6-8 adoptable 8 week old puppies. Fascinating! But where did they come from? How did she acquire them? And more importantly, WHAT THE HECK WERE WE DOING THERE?
Rewind to Christmastime: We had our eyes peeled for a canine companion for my mature parents. After seeing an ad on the Chesco SPCA site, my husband took a road trip the very next day to see the pooch. He arrived two hours before they opened to secure his spot in line. I proudly equipped him with my impressive list of personal and Vet references because I'm acquainted with their rigid (and understandably so) application process. Ha. So much for that. He was the only patron there! After a rather cold welcome, they spent an unusual amount of time cross-examining him about his application; about the cats we had to put down nine years ago and the fact that the kitties we recently rescued from a junkyard weren't spayed or vaccinated yet. (They were only months old!) They went out of their way to try to pin something inhumane on us. It was ridiculous. The next day we called and learned our application was not accepted due to our "questionable pet history". (Yeah. We are cruel, not to be trusted.)
Fast Forward to February: Paul whispered something to me and flashed his phone in front of my face; an advertisement for adorable Pug puppies being fostered in Chester County. I thought the puppy was cute and that was that. He showed me the post on Craigslist and I said, "YOU CANNOT SHOP FOR A PUPPY ON CRAIGSLIST!" (I roared, actually. It helps me get my point across quicker.) He told me to relax and showed me that the Craigslist ad provided a Facebook page owned by the same organization. Well, that made sense as the SPCA and many legitimate rescues have FB pages. Hesitantly, we made an appointment to see the puppies (a Pug/Bulldog has been on our list for so long) after all, if we got there and it didn't feel right, we'd move on. We'd escaped the SPCA empty handed several times previously, so I knew we had the ability to say no. Before making the appointment I spoke to the foster mom on the phone at length. She seemed like a nice gal, probably around my age, and tenderly spoke of these particular Pug puppies being surrendered after 'the death in a family (in Pennsylvania) left a grown man with special needs as an orphan; unable to care for the dog and her five or six puppies'. Aw. That WAS a sad story. I asked about several of the other puppies available on their Facebook page. "Where are all the adoptable ADULT dogs??" They seemed to have unlimited litters of 8 week old puppies! So many more than I had ever seen before! I was told that this rescue was just getting started -- and being new didn't have the funding needed to care for adult dogs that usually come with expensive health issues (arthritis, allergies, etc...) She assured me that they DO adopt out adult dogs, but those dogs were featured on her sister's animal rescue site; an outfit in Media, PA under a different name. They are more established and have the wherewithal to handle older dogs. Oh? Ok.
Seconds after we arrived in Spring City to see the Pug pups, my son immediately fell in love with a male Pug. Together my son and I admired his enormous eyes and funny features. But when I looked across the room I found my youngest boy with 7 puppies sleeping on his lap and he was in love, too. He pointed to one puppy in particular that stopped his heart. My husband (yes, we're still married at this juncture) picked up the sleepy puppy and held him six centimeters from my face. "LOOOOOK how CUUUUUUTE!", he squealed. I quickly snapped, "Get him away!" I wanted nothing to do with helplessly falling in love with more than one puppy that day.
I dragged my husband outside and we had words over this very issue. I guess I lost that debate... His reasons included the size of the puppies - "they really won't eat much, their waste is small, in comparison, and they only have small teeth so they can't really do considerable household damage..." My husband left a deposit and we were to return 4 days later when the pups were old enough to be released.
I worried for four days straight, stared at the ceiling, put the milk in the cupboard, didn't answer my phone. What in the world are we going to do? We cannot get two more puppies and my husband isn't changing his mind.
A year ago, during a visit to Lancaster County, we accidentally ended up at the home of an Amish breeder. He was our buggy driver during a tour of the back roads of Lancaster and I immediately made him my close, personal friend (whether he liked it or not) and within a matter of minutes learned that he and his wife bread English Bulldogs. (Our favorite.) Mr. Esh needed a ride home after his shift and I immediately offered to take him home!! WHY NOT!!?!? When we dropped him off, he graciously invited us to see his dogs, his home, walk his property. We were in love. Later that day, we came back to meet his wife who handles all the dog biz. She seated us at her kitchen table. It was warm, dimly lit and comfortable. She had dinner simmering on the stove. (Oh, the irony! Earlier that day we had paid "Plain & Fancy" for a tour of a mock-up Amish home. This was way more authentic.) After our visit, we left our number for her to notify us when the next litter of pups arrived.
During our Lancaster vacation and back at the hotel, I started doing some research and came up with some very concerning facts about breeders in the 717 area code. I shared some photos and my friends suggested I was most likely at a puppy mill. I was in denial. But they had very few dogs. It was clean. Not a lot of barking. My husband thought I was nuts.
I contacted a very well known rescue in the Greater Philadelphia area by email. I wanted to learn more about how to I.D. a puppy mill. She said it was pretty easy. If the breeders are Amish, it's most likely a mill. They breed for money. (But don't all breeders?) They don't name the dogs, they are left in rabbit hutches, they are unheated and they produce litter after litter until they are unprofitable. The owner of this local rescue (Finding Shelter) was so helpful and begged me not to get a puppy from the Esh's. I had made my mind up that she was right and I wanted nothing to do with Amish dog breeders any more. (My husband still thought I was nuts - "Not everybody's out to get you, Sheryl.")
Back to the present-day situation. My stomach churned for days and we set up a meeting to pick up the puppies in Spring City. But before then, I made a call to the owner of this rescue. I had lots of questions. Why did they have so many puppies? Where did they come from? When you adopt from the SPCA, the animals come spayed and neutered to prevent more unwanted puppies! Why didn't this rescue take the same precautions? "I'm sorry to grill you, but I'm just trying to make sure you're a bonafide rescue." I asked and she answered. She had ALL the right answers. "We're just a bunch of moms who rescue puppies." Awwww. Isn't that special? I forced myself to trust her.
When it was time to fetch our puppies, the foster mother offered to drop off the puppies since she was coming "to the mall" that night. Oh. That was nice. Saves us a trip. Little did we know she wouldn't be coming to our home, but meeting us at 7pm, in the dark, in the cold, in a remote area of the PARKING LOT of the mall. She handed us the puppies, said they hadn't eaten yet (it was 7pm!!)because she was at work all day, gave us the vaccine report and that was it. She had two other puppies in the car being picked up at the same time. Oh, and the check? Was made payable to her. Not the shelter. I KNEW IT.
Welp. Here we were. The owners of two new puppies from a dealer. Not a shelter. I was going to be the shame of the dog park. Tarred and feathered, no doubt.
Please use caution and do your homework before getting a dog from a dealer (posing as a rescue.) Clues that I suspected but ignored: 1) The foster mom was a single mom with 3 children, working as a waitress, trying to keep her home. Surely she wasn't fostering because she had lots of extra time??? Needed more responsiblities?? 2) The Facebook page they ran didn't have the option for patrons to grade them with a review. 3) The payment was made directly to the foster, not a shelter with a 501c3. 4) The application they made me complete was too abbreviated and they never checked my Vet or personal references. 5) Days after the adoption, I texted the foster with questions about coccidia. She answered me by saying she was in North Carolina. (Picking up more puppies?????)
6) My spirit of discernment (womens' intution) was on amber alert. I should have stopped there.
My plans are to report this shelter and foster to PA Dog Law and share my story so others don't end up ensnared in the same mess. Here's where to go...
http://www.agriculture.pa.gov/Protect/DogLaw/Pages/default.aspx#.VuqdlOaH_hA
*DEALERS MASQUERADING AS RESCUES:
Hinde's Animal Safe-haven
STAR Wags & Whiskers
*EXCELLENT RESCUES I RECOMMEND
Delco SPCA
Finding Shelter Animal Rescue
Francisvale Home for Smaller Animals
S.N.O.R.T. Short Noses Only Rescue Team
among others...
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