Petfinder Blog

Troublesome Toby continues to teach me each and every day.

Meet Toby, a.k.a the Tobes Man, the Tobester, America's Fat Cat and Mr. Man. Toby, my 10-year-old, 15-lb. Maine Coon mix, my problem child, is the reason I'm here at Petfinder.

While I've had the honor of caring for many wonderful pets in my life, it's the one who made things the hardest that turned my life-long passion for animals into a profession.

It all started as my first foray into foster care. I'd recently adopted the sweetest little Domestic Short Hair/Tortie, Kura, and felt the need to help some of the many other homeless cats that I saw at the shelter. So I called the adoption group and arranged to take in a foster for a week: Toby.

Right from the beginning Toby, then one year old, was different. As soon as I got him home he immediately strutted around the house, seeking out people to literally paw for attention. There was no way we could give him up. Thus Toby became my first and only "failed" foster.

It wasn't until about a week after the adoption that the trouble began. I went back to school.

I was in Maryland this past weekend visiting my parents. I hadn't even gotten to their house yet when I saw a collarless stray dog dodging traffic. MAN, people who keep driving really make me mad!

I pulled over and called to the dog. She came running right over, apparently grateful to get out of the traffic. I popped my emergency collar on her and she settled in my air-conditioned car and seemed to wonder where we were going next.

I wondered that myself. My parents are fiercely protective of their spoiled-rotten cats, so taking her there long-term didn't seem like a good idea. Plus, this was going to make me late for dinner, and that always ruins Dad's mood.

I called my friend and colleague, Kim Saunders, back in New Jersey and asked her to e-mail a list of local Petfinder rescue-group members to my phone so I could seek help. In the meantime, I stopped by the local Banfield pet hospital to see if the dog might have a microchip. Thus begins the real adventure.

I previously posted about my dog Alan, whom I adopted almost a year ago. As he has acclimated to family life, one thing has become clear: He's a real character, with a personality as unique as his good looks.

Whenever someone meets him, the conversation inevitably turns to speculation about what breeds he is a mix of.

I have postulated that there must be a strong Rottweiler/Doberman component, since from the back end his coloration and physique are very close to those breeds. Then again, I may be reacting to the fact that somewhere along the line someone (sadly) felt compelled to crop his tail.

From the front, things are less clear. It seems like some of his unusual traits might lend a clue -- for example, he is deaf, extremely fast, has huge paws and long, awkward legs.

During my life I've had many cats. All but one were normal and well-adjusted. But the first was not. It was this one weird cat that prompted my lifelong interest in senior pets. Here is our story.

When I was in college I saw an ad in the paper for a free cat. She was a 16-year-old Calico named Callie. I thought we were a good match. I could help a cat in need and get her love in return. And, because of her age, I figured she'd pass away before I left for graduate school. Perfect timing for both of us.

Her owner had died, and she was the one pet his family wouldn't take in. I might have inquired why they didn't want her with an open mind and understanding heart, but instead, I was simply aghast (just a wee bit judgmental). After all, I was 20 and issues of animal welfare were pretty black and white.

I'm far too stubborn to be a hypocrite, so over the next months, my noisy criticism of her previous family strengthened my resolve to make this strange cat love me. For four months she lived in the kitchen cabinet (actually in my lazy Susan) only to come out to relieve herself on the carpet. Wall-to-wall became bare wood.

In Month 6, she moved into a new space, under my bed. Eventually, she began to sneak out until her days were spent with me instead of the dust bunnies.

As a member of the outreach team, one of the best parts of my job is planning and attending our Adoption Options seminars.

Adoption Options is one of our biggest initiatives and is a traveling educational seminar that brings training and networking opportunities to our shelter and rescue members throughout the country.

We do 20 per year and try to travel to areas that don't have affordable access to training. We bring with us some of the nation's best-known speakers and discuss the hottest topics in animal welfare. Each attendee also gets breakfast, lunch and an Adoption Options T-shirt -- all for $10 per person. The program is sponsored in part by our friends at the PETCO Foundation.

I just returned from Memphis, TN, where 80 dedicated animal welfare professionals came out to network and discuss adoption policies, dog behavior, shelter medicine and how to most effectively use Petfinder.

A great story came out of this day.

Since it's Deaf Dog Awareness Week, here's the story of my deaf (and blind) Great Dane puppy, Keller.

I had always admired the Great Dane's poise and nobility, and last year decided the time was right to add one of these beautiful animals to my home.

The Mid-Atlantic Great Dane Rescue League had lots of Danes that needed homes, and I got involved with their rescue efforts. One day, they contacted me because a Great Dane puppy was about to be euthanized and needed a home right away.

A breeder who claims he can breed "white" Danes had given this puppy to a customer as part of the purchase of another Dane. With Great Danes, and many other breeds, an all-white dog is the result of a genetic defect. This defect can also result in deafness and, in extreme cases, blindness.

The new dog owner did not know what he had, but took the 8-week-old puppies to a vet for their initial checkup. The vet discovered immediately that one of the dogs was deaf and blind. He recommended the puppy be euthanized because the dog wouldn't have a very good quality of life. The owner left the puppy at the vet's office to be put to sleep. Thankfully, one of the techs took the puppy home and contacted the rescue league.

I wrote previously about my experience adopting my dog Alan, a 2-year-old deaf flat-coated retriever mix who'd spent the past year in rescue. Here's an update, in honor of Deaf Dog Awareness Week.

Alan has been part of the family for about six weeks now and we're settling into a nice routine. He has calmed down significantly and clearly is starting to feel at home. Recently he has begun barking when strangers pull into the driveway, which I think is a sure sign he now views this home as his territory.

His housetraining has come along well -- as long as I'm vigilant about keeping a schedule and listening to him when he asks to go out. Unfortunately, 5 a.m. seems to be a potty time no matter when we go to bed. On the positive side, I've been enjoying the early autumnal sunrises.

His deafness does present some interesting challenges for training. The biggest obstacle, I find, is the inability to firmly establish an ongoing "No" and "Good" dialog. With previous dogs I've relied heavily on this, but with Alan it's difficult.

Yesterday, Martha Stewart had Katherine Heigl on her show. Both of them have dogs (Katherine is a big adoption advocate and her dog Piper is a rescue).

I wasn't fully paying attention, but my ears perked up when I heard Martha say her dogs always sleep in bed with her, and her dogs have never seen the inside of a crate.

I've had dogs ever since I left my parents' home, and until I adopted Archie, all my dogs slept at the foot of my bed (including my 90-lb. chocolate lab, Pudgy). I had never considered crating a dog at night.

But by the time I was ready to adopt Archie, I was married to Ed. Ed already feels I take up too much room at night, and adding a dog to the mix would have been too much for him. So it was decided that Archie would be crated at night.

What a riot! In honor of Adopt-a-Shelter-Cat Month (June), the ASPCA had a contest to find the year's best cat photos.

Singer Michael Feinstein judged the hundreds of entries and came up with these adorable winners.

I recently moved from a house to a two-bedroom apartment, which I now share with two adopted kittens. I'm learning how to live in a close-packed community with lots of other people and their pets.

Here are some rules -- both unwritten and written -- that I've learned so far: