Months of searching has paid off- we hit the dog jackpot! Meet Chili- 2 year old gorgeous red Merle Australian Shepherd. Foster family just dropped him off from Reach Out Rescue. Loves everybody and does great with dogs and cats. Well behaved and insanely sweet. We are already in love. Expect an obnoxious amount of pictures
SUPER URGENT!! This cutie is my foster dog. His name is Rocco. I am a foster family for australian shepherds with South Texas Aussie Rescue (STAR). He just got placed with me on Friday. He’s super sweet and a total love bug. Even though he is 57 lbs, he tries to be a lap dog. He’s around 3-4 years old and was found in the San Antonio area. After 5 days in the city shelter with no one claiming him or wanting to adopted him, he was placed with STAR and they placed him with us. Just last night (Tuesday night) he started having seizures. The first one was at 1:30 am and he had another one every two hours until 7:30, which is when I took him to the vet with me (I work at a vet clinic). The doctor did some tests and determined that he has epilepsy. He prescribed some anti-convulsion meds which we have been giving and he hasn’t had any more seizures since starting the meds.
My point is, THIS CUTIE NEEDS A HOME that is willing to take care of a dog that needs constant medicating. Within the rescue, we are trying very hard to find a home, but it’s very hard to find someone who is willing to take a dog that will require buying meds every month or so to keep him from having seizures. We don’t have long to find a good home because we don’t have a lot of volunteers in the rescue, therefore, we don’t have a lot of resources to keep foster dogs for long periods of time. We always need to find homes as soon as possible.
So PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE reblog this! Spread this like wildfire! Even if you personally are not looking for a dog, spread it in case anyone that follows you is!
If you ARE looking for a dog, MESSAGE ME! And/Or contact South Texas Aussie Rescue and tell them that you are looking to adopt Rocco specifically.
Yesterday evening Sheila and I went to the Lyn-Lake area of Minneapolis for dinner. Ella and Oliver were with us. We strolled around looking at menus and patios, deciding which restaurant to choose (which ended up being the very good Lyndale Tap House).
As we walked several people pet the dogs. Ella and Oliver love the attention because apparently Sheila and I leave them starved for affection. Or so one would think.
As sometimes happens we bumped into a person who asked THE question. With her greasy-haired head tilted down and eyebrows raised, she looked at us over her eyeglasses, and said with the same tone of smugness of someone describing their solar powered toaster, “Are they rescues?”
I always want to say “Heck yeah, we found ‘em in a dumpster full of toxic waste” or “They were saved from a burning puppy mill.” But we had the guts to admit we got them from a breeder. That got us “the look.”
Our third dog is a rescue. Carson doesn’t come out to dinner because the sound of a passing bus or motorcycle would send him up the wall faster than a monkey snorting cocaine. He likes his daily trips to the park and playing with dogs. Loud and busy street traffic, not one bit.
We tried to get rescue Aussies but the people always told us “Oooooh, there’s a man and a teenage boy in the house? Oh no! That won’t work. This dog is afraid of men.” Every time.
Well screw ‘em. I wanted Aussies. I got Aussies. They couldn’t be living any better of a life unless I got some sheep for them to herd.
Are there rescue sheep? Probably doesn’t matter; there’s a man living in the house.