Princess Pepper T. Lincecum

She's 11 years old and looks it. Greying muzzle, warty, lumpy, wonky hips, but one doesn’t really see all that. One sees that happy tail, that beautiful face reaching up for touch, and the carefree body wiggle when she spots pretty much anyone.

                 She wasn’t that open when she came to live at my house. It’s been a new and wondrous adventure for all of us; myself, my two little guys - Munchie and Mutley, also from Give a Dog a Bone - and her especially. After having led an unbelievably barren life for most of her 11 years, moving into a home with furniture, music, television, other people, doggie beds and water bowls everywhere, and in particular, enough food, she’s well on her way to being a regular dog. All new to her.

                 She eats regularly, something else new, and when she first began to recognize doggie meal preparation indicators, my heart stung at the sight of her drool on the floor. She was so very anxious. After around three months, she still gets a bit worried around meal time, but her progression from high level anxiety to almost mere nervousness is so gratifying.

           She rearranges the dog beds frequently, and curls up in the smallest of beds. She hops in pleasure and heads for the front door when she spies her leash in my hand. She is able to settle now, unlike when she first moved in, unable to relax.       
She loves riding in the car. She loves going on walks.  Her favorite place to go turned out to be Bernal Hill, as soon as she discovered the joy of trolling for gophers. If staring into holes on the hill for long periods of time was an Olympic event, the Princess would win the gold medal hands down.                

            She’s slowed down some, my theory being that she finally feels safe, and I think that if she spoke English, she would now be able to define the word “home”. She IS safe, she is cherished, the boys are comfortable around her, and she with them. I do not allow her to make mistakes with them. We have had, of course, some “faux paws”, not at all unexpected, but our learning curve continually steadies.

            When we go upstairs at night, she hums softly as I kneel and tuck her into her bed, covers up to her neck. Bedtime rituals have developed. Pepper sleeps on two soft beds, with a lovely heavy quilt covering her.                                                                   

         I feel almost compelled to photograph her. I have to document that she has a life, that she is a good weight now. Not just for me, but for her shelter family, who have greatly loved and cared for her. Each of us remembers being stricken by our first sight of her, every rib visible, her bony skull, her graying muzzle.                                                                                                    We’re well aware that Pepper’s life, her life now, is to be recognized and cheered. I don’t need to say why that is so. Soon she’ll just be a regular dog. I can’t think of anything better.

 For more on Pepper and from whence she hailed:                   

 read incorrigible animal lover Eileen Mitchell's column in the San Francisco Chronicle/SFGate at http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgif=/c/a/2010/12/29/DDAV1GUCSQ.DTL

              "Give a Dog a Bone cares for animals in custody"

  (Please note Pepper’s unique necklace.
     It’s made of 2010 World Series tix.
        The Princess is a diehard SF Giants fan.
            She looooves Orange Fridays in particular)  
 - AND -  from the January 2011 issue of the Bay Woof:
http://baywoof.com/1101.HappyTails.shtml.
    (scroll down Happy Tails for Princess Pepper T. Lincecum )

OUR CHRISTMAS STORY

AN ANIMAL HERO EMERGES

Is there a rule somewhere that says before one is twice blessed, one must endure pain and suffering? For our newly named little Pippin, a puppy somewhere between three and four months old, one wonders if maybe such a rule did exist. But on October 12, 2008, her life and luck changed.

A thirteen year old young man celebrating his birthday became a Hero that day. He was on a San Francisco city bus, on his way to church to meet his grandmother, and saw something that suddenly made him pull the string and request a stop. A group of young males were beating a puppy. The puppy was Pippin and our young Hero stepped in and rescued her. He took her to his grandmother at church and together they brought her home to call San Francisco Animal Care and Control. The responding officer took the young pup to the emergency for a complete examination, treating not only the possible injuries inflicted by the beating, but also a severe case of long neglected non-contagious mange.

After being temporarily ensconced in a kennel at Give a Dog a Bone with toys, soft blankets, and chews, our lucky little lassie now lives with her foster mom, a foster brother, and a big sister who maintains a semblance of order in the household. She is learning proper doggie house rules, play skills, and most of all, is well loved and well cared for. Lively, active, and still a lover of people, we’re hoping that that this little pittie will be twice blessed with a loving, breed-savvy home.

For those of us who witness instances of animal abuse, neglect and brutality every day, it is truly inspiring to encounter a young man in our community with such heart, strength and compassion. With barely any time to think about doing the right thing, he did. Decisions that can make a difference and lead to such lasting change in our community can be quite simple. Give A Dog A Bone’s mission is to foster just that.


Together, we can help encourage more Heroes and make San Francisco an even better place for us all to call home.

May all of us be as blessed as Miss Pippin during this season and the forthcoming year.