Tag Archives: Animal Rescue

Life, Death, and the Week in My World 10-24-11

On September 15th we had to put down one of our beloved dogs, Jessa. She came from the worst possible beginnings and health problems followed her periodically throughout her eight years. This time there was no cure. Despite her history, she was a happy and playful dog, and the only one who could keep up with Blitz, a dog we rescued four years ago from different but also gruesome conditions. (Pictures of Jessa can be found under My Pack and Philosophy.)

I didn’t write about Jessa because losing a pet is such a personal and painful experience that words are difficult. I didn’t want people to feel obligated to express their sympathy. As much as we grieved, I think it was worse for Blitz. He lost his best friend. He was clingy and confused—he kept looking for her and it broke my heart.

There is no need to seek out a dog in Arizona. There are so many desperate animals here I knew one would find us. On October 13th an animal-rescue colleague called in distress, asking if I would foster a beautiful six-month-old pup headed for the pound the next day. The volunteer already had a pack of foster dogs, and there aren’t many people who will foster. It’s shocking how many people are outraged by euthanasia but will not open their hearts and homes to foster animals. I was her last chance. The pup’s owner had thought it was such a cute little puppy she had to have it. I’m sure it was. But it grew. It needed time and attention and training. The owner lost interest. The pup is not housebroken, doesn’t know simple commands, and is slightly wild.

We went to pick up the dog and fell instantly in love. Since I refuse to separate any of my animals, the question was would she fit in with my pack, and would she breathe new life into poor Blitz.

The answer became evident within a few days. She is now a work in progress.

Meet Jada. She came with the name ‘Jade’ but ‘Jada’ is more fun to say. What is she? Don’t know, don’t care. A blend of beauty, affection, and spirit.

What can I say?

Jada's second day with us, still uncertain

Jada meets the neighbors

Jada and Blitz bonding over marrow bones

Jada makes friends with Blitz by the old stand-on-your-head method

Blitz shakes Jada's paw---with his mouth

Jada sizes Blitz up

Let the games begin

Tug-of-war, a favorite of dog buddies everywhere

One of the many positions of tug-of-war

Getting serious

It's not easy to tire Jada out, but Blitz gets it done.

Second Pup Rescued from Mean Neighbors

I got her. Scarred, scabbed, starving, and scared to death. Covered from head to tail with ticks, even deep down inside her ears. There is no agency on earth that could have acted as quickly or prevented my fear of reprisal. I answer to a higher authority—my own conscience.

Ears and back of head of pup rescued from neighbors on the border in Arizona

Inside ear of pup rescued from neighbors on the border in Arizona

It’s a Culture Thing

Two weeks ago I rescued a neighbor’s starving dog. She had no food, water, or shelter. I worked on this case for months, waiting until nightfall and wearing dark clothes to sneak her dog biscuits through a chain link fence. I tried to talk to the owners months ago about improvements I could help with, but they would not listen and in fact told me to mind my own business. I had already asked them to pick up the piles of kitchen garbage in their front yard and did not want to start a war.

I tracked down a free doghouse and planned to sort of diplomatically force it on them, but saw that the dog was getting thinner by the day, her ribs and backbone prominent under her short fur. Then I noticed she was in heat, which is obvious when you know what to look for.  She looked to be about 20 pounds underweight and I knew she wouldn’t make it through the winter. I finally decided to liberate the dog in a midnight black-ops rescue.

We brought her to safehouse in another town where a contact took her in. We had her vaccinated and spayed. When they spayed her, they found she was carrying FIVE DEAD DEFORMED PUPS due to malnutrition. If we had not rescued her, the vet said she would have delivered the dead pups within days and died from infection. The dog never once complained about the discomfort she must have felt.

I feared disclosing this information to anyone but a few trusted animal-rescue contacts, and stressed over how to find her a home other than the usual route. She is loving and smart, but I was afraid to advertise her in any way. Since the owners did not look for the dog or take any action at all, I assumed they didn’t notice she was gone, but I still did not want to push it by publicly putting her up for adoption.

My shock and disgust at learning the true severity of her condition changed all that. I no longer cared if the owners saw her picture on a poster. But by some miracle, through my connections, I met someone who is coming to meet the dog this week. For the past two weeks I have felt a sense of relief as I pulled into my driveway and did not have to watch a starving dog desperately trying to get my attention. I could not feed her during daylight hours because I feared the owners would see me and make the dog’s life worse by chaining her in another part of the yard where I would not be able to reach her without trespassing.

This morning  I saw my neighbors pull into their driveway with a new puppy. They immediately put the pup in the back part of their yard where I cannot reach her.

The physical sickness I felt before is now back. I am in a difficult position—not wanting to start a war with my neighbors, not wanting to call authorities because I cannot prove anything or admit what I did. I have learned the hard way living here that calling local agencies often proves futile. There is a fine line between keeping an animal barely alive and actual abuse, and agencies often do nothing. Many people who live in town just look other way.

My neighbors have religious icons in their yard and attached to their house but apparently this belief does not extend to animals. I just don’t get it.

The Week in My World 7-30-11

Knowledge and growth are born of adversity. Writer Josephine Hart said, “Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.”  I know this is true. The shock fades and new skills emerge. It’s a weird sort of relief to know there will be no relief, so there’s no need to fake optimism. It forces one to deal with reality in less emotional ways. Lower your standards, expect nothing.

Drug Cartels Coming to a Street Near You!

My passion is animals and my cause is spay/neuter. It’s very hard to get people here to spay/neuter, but I never give up. After many years of working in animal rescue, I know that spay/neuter education is the single most important effort that can be made to stop the flow of stray dogs and cats. It would be easy enough for schoolteachers to give a lesson on it once in a while, but they don’t.

I’m currently trying to help neighbors get their dogs fixed for free. I’m all about free. If poor people consent to it (the first hurdle), they should get help. Some organizations make the pet owner pay the money back, but I don’t believe in that. Pay the vet bill for them, and DON’T spend thousands of dollars on a sick or crippled animal because you can’t stand to put it down. (They do that here, they’re all anti-euthanasia in Bisbee. It’s not realistic. In Douglas the pound puts them down too fast, within a couple days.  In Mexico the methods of euthanasia are medieval, I can’t talk about it. I seek sane case-by-case judgment but can’t find it anywhere.) But for the people who want to spay/neuter and can’t afford it,  I write emails, make phone calls, collect information, make appointments, coordinate funding, beg and plead. Works pretty good.

A lady I’m helping in my neighborhood has a fifth-wheel camper for sale in her yard. She told me cartel members have come to her house three times wanting to use the camper for a drug smuggling drop-off point. She said no. I asked her if she reported it, she said no, because they told her they had relatives in the local border patrol and she’s too scared. I don’t believe that. They don’t let agents work in their own neighborhoods for this exact reason.

Since I no longer believe we have a functioning government, I’ve been practicing, spending money on bullets because I think it’s important to know how to defend yourself. It took living on the border, a collapsed economy, and an arrogant leader to come to this conclusion—I sound like a nutcase in a bunker—but Americans need to wake up to reality. The America we knew, the one where you could walk into an employment agency and have a decent job in a week, is gone. The banks, corporations, and politicians who run this country are evil. War, money, oil. Yesterday in Egypt tens of thousands of hardline Islamic fundamentalists demonstrated, killing Christians and calling for strict Sharia law—as we send them billions of dollars to fight a hopeless cause. What did you think would happen?  Isn’t it kind of embarrassing to belong to such a stupid species?

RIP Amy Winehouse

Amy, Amy, Amy. Amy was a freak with the voice of a fallen angel. I have not read all the tributes to her online because my feelings are purely personal and I don’t want them tainted. I loved her music and her voice and her attitude. She was an outcast from the Hollywood rockstar mold and didn’t care. People made fun of her, she was an easy mark. Her “You Know I’m No Good” is my favorite song by her and gives me chills and makes me cry every time I hear it. I haven’t been this affected by the death of an artist since Janis Joplin, another member of the “27 Club.”

Coco and Chico

The two chihuahuas (see Help) got adopted and then sent back. The couple didn’t want them because they did not immediately bond with the husband. They only gave the dogs five days. Chico hiked on the guy’s clothes on the floor and he gave up on them way too fast. They’ve been shuffled around for months now—and after all, they were just neutered in June at age five years. Don’t expect miracles. We adore these loving, funny dogs. We’ll continue to work with them until they learn. They are a good project for someone with a lot of love to give. The dogs will love you right back.

Stormy day today with lots of rain, lightning and thunder.

Sonoran Desert toad, Bufo alvarius. I picked him up in a tupperware and gently carried him to safer ground, away from pets. These toads secrete a poisonous milky substance from glands on the side of their heads that can paralyze or cause seizures in animals and humans. He was big, about 5 inches long, about as big as my hand, and solidly heavy.

Canyon tree frog, Hyla arenicolor. There are variations among this species.

Another tiny canyon tree frog, even smaller, about an inch long. These frogs and toads are only seen during monsoon.

Caterpillar or larva of pipevine swallowtail butterfly, Battus philenor. There are lots of them in the yard. They are toxic and their bright scarlet color is a warning to birds.

Chico on way to new home

Chico coming back after being kicked out of new home

Coco and Chico coming back. They love, love, love to ride in cars.

Two car-lovin’ chihuahuas need good home in southern AZ. Will deliver. Neutered, loving, funny. Do not want to split up. They don’t bolt. Open a car door and they jump right in and settle down.

Met some people carrying goats. They had just picked up this mother and daughter whose owner couldn’t keep them. This couple makes goat cheese which they sell at the Farmers’ Market, and also uses them for meat…of course I asked if they get attached to the goats…yes, but they grew up on a farm and are used to the slaughter. Not very nice to think about, is it. Please don’t ever throw meat away, give leftovers to your dogs.

Helicopter repair shop in Elfrida, AZ. Who knew?

Helicopter graveyard, Elfrida, AZ

The Week in My World 7-13-11

It’s been exactly one disturbing month since the Monument Fire began. Monsoon has started and instead of being the joyful respite we all wait for, new horrors have just begun for the people in Hereford Valley as their homes fill with ash and sludge. Everybody’s busy sandbagging their properties and buying flood insurance, which is really expensive.

I’ve received mail from uninformed people calling me all kinds of nasty names, but I write from the perspective of someone who lives here, not a couple thousand miles away. I hate political correctness but I find that many Americans accept it like sheep. It’s a really bad idea to troll blogs and leave aggressive negative comments. Much better to write your opinions on your own blog. If I see a post I don’t agree with, I leave, not start trouble.

But, life goes on. I’ve been highly motivated to clean up my property. I bought this house “as is.” The man who lived here worked in the mines but was completely self-sufficient when it came to taking care of his house and family. Maybe today he would be considered a hoarder. The barn and house were jammed full of every kind of scrap imaginable. We cleared much of it a few years ago, but a lot of it remained exactly where he left it when he died. He saved everything. Literally tons of metal, tires, wood, old refrigerators, half-empty bottles and cans of gooey unknown substances, thousands of parts from obsolete machinery, fencing and rotting hoses for his vegetable gardens. I’ve made countless dump trips and given stuff away. Since I’m scared to death of fires now, I’ve cleared most of the brush. The monsoon will bring new grasses and create new brush, but from now on I’m going to keep up with it. It’s a lot of work but I trust no one.

Something good happened—Gracie, the little tabby I rescued from a foreclosed home, was adopted. I still have the two chihuahua mixes and can’t wait to find a good home for them. I have nine dogs in my little house and it’s too much. People call and make appointments to see them and don’t show up. Other people call and want them for free. Others call with their phone set to “Private” and don’t leave their number. Little kids call. The stupidity, rudeness, and bloody waste of my time is discouraging.

Two confused chihuahuas after returning from the vet to get neutered. Coco and Chico, whose owner died and whose wife dumped the dogs the same day, need good home in southern Arizona. Will deliver.

“WTF? I thought you said we were going to get TUTORED!”

First brood of swallow babies on my front porch light. The parents come back every year and have two broods. I do what I can to keep them safe.

One died in the nest, I don’t know why. The parents couldn’t get it out, so we got a ladder and a pair of tongs and removed it.

If one more person tells me the prickly pears lost in the February freeze will come back, I’m gonna smack ’em.

The Border Patrol were all at the Monument fire for two weeks, now they’re back. Look at this agent on horseback….HOT. I would have liked to move around him and take better pictures, but they’re kind of busy.

Border Patrol bringing in a group less than 100 ft. from my back door. The concept of the BP being ruthless dicks isn’t true. They save lives every day. They are given fluids, taken to hospitals, then sent back.

Poor old guy at the gas station, empty tank and no money. He asked me for a dollar. I gave him my last five bucks.

Our friend Hogan (see Hoarder of History) finally retires his boots.


My friend and animal rescue colleague Janice was evacuated tonight, the fire has spread into her neighborhood across from the Huachucas. I have three of her dogs and she’s coming with more. Two of the dogs are fosters.

I was going to do a separate post on these two small dogs, but now that they’re here at my house, here’s the story. A man had cancer. He was at home and very sick. He begged his wife to keep his two small dogs, which she did…until THE DAY he went into hospice. Then she dumped them just as fast as she could. Bitch. They are two small five-year-old chihuahua mixes, sweet and loving. We don’t want to separate them as they are best friends—they eat, sleep and play together. I introduced them to all my dogs and after the usual initial doggie who-the-hell-are-you meet and greet, everybody’s doing fine. They have no interest in my many cats. They need to be neutered, we just haven’t had time.

The cat pictures are of Gracie, the cat left behind at a foreclosed home we rescued in May (see Foster Cat of the Week). Gracie was a bag of bones when I got her, now she is healthy, has been spayed and is ready to go. She is extremely loving, wants to be in your lap, and purrs a lot. She picks fights with my other cats but she loves dogs. Border Animal Rescue paid for the spay and has had to lower the adoption fees for both cats and dogs—cats $30, dogs $50. There are just too many. All animals are fixed and given rabies shots before adoption.

9500 acres burned so far in the Monument fire, still raging. 40 homes damaged or destroyed. Power down. Evacuations continue. Today I worked in Old Bisbee and saw tiny pieces of ash floating everywhere in the air, 25 miles away. High winds today and tomorrow make the fire spread faster and hinder the slurry helicopters and the crews. There are tears and anger here. Where are the troops? Where’s the money? Fires, tornadoes, floods—where is the help for America in her time of need? In the Mideast. I am numb with rage.

Please see my last three posts for many more pictures of the Monument fire.

Monument Fire Update June 18th: 20,000 acres burned, 50 homes destroyed, 12,000 people evacuated. Wind gusts of 50-60 mph today. Extremely dangerous conditions for the firefighters and pilots. It’s also very, very hot. Chaos, anger, tears here. At least now the papers are admitting it’s “human caused.” It will never go any further than this.

There’s an article in local news source called “Impact on Wild Animals Affected by Fire” but there’s NO WAY I can read it.

Sun trying to shine through smoke from Monument fire over Bisbee 6-16-11.

Smoke from Monument fire, picture taken on Naco Highway near my house 6-16-11.

Two loving 5-year-old male chihuahua mixes need home. Chico on left, Coco on right. They both get along very well with dogs and cats. Coco is the darker one.

Two loving male chihuahua mixes up for adoption. They are very interactive with each other and with their humans.

Two chihuahua mixes need home. Funny, curious, playful. There have been a few grumbles, but everybody’s doing really well for the first night. I just made everybody go-lie-down so the two new ones can have some freedom to explore without being followed around. Jasmine would prefer to bite their little heads off, but she will do no such thing. In a few days she’ll accept them, for now, I watch her and she knows it. It’s time for me to step up to the fostering, altering, and adoption of these dogs, Janice has major stress right now.

Two male chihuahua mixes need home. Coco left, Chico right. Southern Arizona.

Two chihuahua mixes need home. Coco left, Chico right.

Gracie, two year old female tabby rescued from foreclosed house needs home. Spayed and very loving. Likes dogs, but not cats.

Gracie, two year old spayed female tabby up for adoption. Rescued from foreclosed home. VERY loving. Southern Arizona.

Gracie, two year old spayed female tabby needs home. Very loving. Likes dogs, not cats. Southern Arizona.

The Week in My World 6-3-11

My blood pressure has been high for years so I finally started on some meds about a month ago. I go to the fire station a couple times a week to get it checked. After a few weeks it hadn’t gone down so my dosage was doubled. This morning my blood pressure was 186/116. I don’t think they’re working.


Lose Ten Pounds in One Week with These Fat-Busting Diets!

The Domestic Dispute Diet  •  The Sick Pet Diet  •  The Unemployment Diet

The Anger and Frustration Diet   •   The Guilt Diet

The General Malaise Diet

They work!


White Picket Fences

White picket fences were once iconic of the American dream…now they are merely metaphors.  I think I know why.

White picket fences don’t accomplish much security-wise, but you can still get impaled on one because you think you can climb over it. If you buy a house with a white picket fence, the next thing you know you’re fertilizing your lawn and fretting over dandelions.

After a while white picket fences don’t look so good and need repair and painting. I once took a job painting one. As usual, I underestimated the job and languished for days in impossible positions. I recommend doing just about anything else—schedule that colonoscopy or pap smear. Get that dental work you’ve been putting off.

Chain link fences don’t look so good either, but at least they’re ugly from the day you put them up and you accept this. People don’t try to climb over chain link fences, especially if there are dogs. Yards with white picket fences don’t contain dogs that discourage intruders. Are you going to let a schnauzer scare you off? No self-respecting pit bull would stay in a yard with a white picket fence, he would be too embarrassed and leave immediately by simply jumping over it.

White picket fences are in far too many kitschy paintings. They symbolize happy families with children who are good students and parents who aren’t drunks. They don’t work.



I worked for a obsessed born-again Christian back in Connecticut who loved plants. One day she pointed out a bush in the next yard and told me how much she wanted it. I said, well you know what they say, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s bush. She wasn’t amused, but I giggled for the rest of the day.


These puppies are being fostered by Dee from Border Animal Rescue. I took this picture May 10th.

Taken today, 25 days later, about 8 weeks old.

The mama, a Jack Russel mix. The pups don't look anything like her!

Red yucca, doing well all over southern Arizona.

Wild sweet pea, growing along roadside.

Most of the huge old pine trees around town are dead, a surprising result of the February freeze. We expect pines to be hardier, and we hate to see them go.

Car of the week: '56 Jaguar XKE with modifications, seen around town. The guys told me it would do 190 mph...don't know if that's true, but even if it is, where you gonna do that?

The Week in My World 5-26-11

What a week. I’m tired and discouraged. I’m no longer able to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like roofing or unclogging drains.

BUT…Find an Outlet scores a double! The two dogs my friend Janice rescued from a foreclosed house (see Collateral Damage) got adopted! A lovely woman from Tucson saw the pictures on my blog and drove up here three times. She was only going to take the hound, but when she brought her 11-year-old overweight dog and watched the three dogs romp in the yard that did it. She adopted both dogs and they are living happily ever after in Tucson. I couldn’t be there to see them off so I begged Janice to take a few pictures of the dogs getting in the car and leaving. She promised she would. This is what I got:

Janice doesn't get electronics. She gets dogs. I was so excited when she gave me her camera to take the pictures off...until I saw them—this and two more just like it. My disappointment soon turned to hysterics.

Thank you Janice for all you do. She did all the work, all I did was photograph the dogs. Thank you to Border Animal Rescue for funding the spays.

ARIZONA IS so weird. Every liquor store has a drive-thru window, but I have to park my car and walk to the bank and have meaningful interaction with the tellers to cash a check.

I’M TAKING A BREAK from fiction because the sheer amount of it on the blogosphere is overwhelming me, but here’s an idea for a story:

A Pile for Charlie: About a man who develops an itch in an unmentionable region but becomes intolerable to his family because he refuses to purchase the ointment.

I have a fish story…

It was just a fluke that I met Marlin at the sand bar. He wore his hair in a mullet, but it smelt like scrod. He claimed to be a sturgeon but I never saw him operate on anything but a blowfish. He was such an angler—he reeled me in when he said I was as cute as a sea urchin. He tried to get me to perch on top of him but I told him I had a haddock and he accused me of playing koi. We smoked a salmon and floundered around for a while but he insisted on showing me his pike. I started laughing, you mean your minnow? Good thing he was hard of herring—but he tackled me, got a little roughy and wouldn’t leave my dorsal fin alone. “Don’t clam up on me baby!” he snappered, then told me I was a crappie date. What a crab. What did I expect from bottom fishing? I’m not going to be a grouper to some backwater slippery eel with no sole. Basshole. Give me a tuna-casserole type guy who knows the meaning of the word chum.

Border Animal Rescue is one of the saving graces of our town. They often take in more animals than they adopt. They don’t have a physical shelter and it’s almost impossible to find foster homes, so most of the animals end up at a few devoted volunteers’ homes. These puppies are at Dee's house, the heart and soul of BAR. She fosters many cats, kittens, and dogs. It's extremely hard to say no to people who are about to dump their animals.

The Mexican bird of paradise shrubs are blooming along roadsides everywhere.

The cholla (pronounced (choy' a) bloom in May and they're everywhere. The flowers then turn into those yellow pods.

Cholla buds about to burst.

The top of a century agave that looks like a giant asparagus in the spring. They don't really live 100 years, more like 25. After the stalk grows and dies, the plant dies. But the base sends out runners called "pups," so they have a chance at immortality.

The ocotillo (pronounced oco tee' yo) are in bloom too. They're about 20 ft. tall, I had to stand on top of my car to get this pic!

Yuccas are very common here. This plant has last year's stalk and a brand new one beside it.

The other day I was craving water. All we have is the San Pedro River, which only swells during monsoon. An earthquake 100 years ago turned this once serious river into a trickle. To think there used to be barges on it during the mining days!

I could barely wait to wade in the "river." I'm trying to catch tadpoles, there were thousands of them. It only takes a small amount of water to bring profuse life to the desert.

Tadpoles, which turn into frogs, aren't that easy to catch! Most will be eaten though before they reach adulthood.

Saw these perfectly preserved set of raccoon (I think) prints in some mud.

The Prods…I Mean Prompts

This is my second attempt at weekly writing prompts from  BeKindRewrite called  Inspiration Monday II. Stephanie provides five prompts, and this time she has participated with a beautiful story of her own.

I chose two prompts and used them as titles:


Raised Eyebrows at the Checkout Line

I placed my pile of slender plastic bags on the belt. The bags, carefully folded over and bound with stickers, appeared insubstantial but each measured the weight of hope. One shrimp, one slice of ham, one of roast beef, one liverwurst, one turkey breast, one corned beef, one bologna. I had already endured the discontent of the deli clerk—friendliness is ineffective when you’re out to personally ruin someone’s day. The checkout girl raised her eyebrows but was too apathetic to comment and I too weary to explain.

When I got home I ripped open every bag and tore the slices into pieces. I took them to Buck’s bed and held them in front of his nose. No reaction to the ham or any other savory cold cut—but as I held out the shrimp, he raised his head. I ripped the shrimp into shreds and he took a bite, then another. As he finished the shrimp, I grabbed my car keys, this time with a purposeful stride.


Everyday Villain

The witch woke up midday, bleary from the last night’s bender. She looked older than her 50 years, a dessicated hag with a vindictive scowl. The fucking phone again, more idiots with their stupid complaints. Blah blah blah can you call me as soon as possible. Blah blah blah I have a problem. Blah blah blah what should I do. Screw ’em all, that’s what.

As in many depressed former mill towns of Connecticut, the witch inherited the position from her father. She hated the job, the callers, and the responsibility, but most of all she hated her wards. Today was cold and rainy and she’d be damned if she was going to walk all the way out to the kennels at the end of her property to shovel shit with this hangover. Ugly needy mutts with their empty bowls and dirty cages. Many complaints were made about the witch, but change is rarely on any town official’s agenda. One lone volunteer would come a couple times a week to clean the cages, take pictures for flyers, and cry with the dogs.

A year later the witch died of liver cancer. Nobody mourned. The nepotism ended when the witch’s deranged adult son was deemed unfit to be the new dog warden. The kennels were closed and the pound moved off the property. The long-awaited interruption of this family’s reign brought the town one step closer to outlawing this vile tradition.


Canine Costume Party 2011

Yesterday was one of Border Animal Rescue’s (BAR) annual fundraisers, Mardi Paws. We woke up to snow in the morning, which dissolved, but it remained wicked cold and windy all day. We did not get the turnout hoped for, but we soldier on.

Dog in clown costume

A BAR volunteer brought a three-week-old kitten who needs bottle feeding every couple hours.

The lovely volunteers from Tombstone Animal Shelter brought these two sweet dogs. They didn't get adopted.

My job was to photograph dogs in costume with their owners, print the pictures on the spot, and sell them to the owners.

This beautiful little girl had a smile on her face all day. Have you ever noticed that kids who love animals are the sweetest kids of all?

This little guy was dressed up as a skunk. Too cute.

Maxi accompanied us to the event, of course. The doggie goggles were a big hit.

Volunteer from Bisbee dog pound with big fuzzy chow mix who needs a home.

Two little princesses

Kids who are raised to respect animals = happy kids, happy animals

This little girl and her dog wore matching costumes.

These two cuties were dressed as a bee and a ladybug.