Easter Beagle Pays It Forward

The residents at the Shiawassee Medical Care Facility got a surprise visit from two furry friends this Easter morning. As The Easter Bunny, (AKA Melissa Rosenberger) and the Easter Beagle, (AKA Snickers—a rescued, retired, Award Winning Therapy Dog) hopped through the facility, faces lit up, smiles brightened, and laughter erupted throughout each corridor.

A dog with bunny ears is quite a sight. Although waddling like a duck, more than walking like a dog, or hopping like a bunny, Snickers, now 13, is still glad to make the rounds. Covered in painful lumps and a stiff arthritic tailbone, you’d never know he is suffering though. With a wagging tail he approaches each and every person with kisses and affection.

Snickers, in his bunny get up, has been bringing therapy to children and adults for nearly a decade!

“For years we did an Easter fundraiser to raise money for needy and abused families,” Lisa Freeman says, who is also the dog’s owner. “Thanks to everyone’s amazing support, we were able to give hundreds of filled Easter Baskets and gift certificates to hurting families. Even more, we were able to show them that someone loves and cares for them. I had no idea when I rescued Snickers, that he would be rescuing so many others.”

Over the years, Snickers has helped raised over $20,000 for the local community. “A portion of that money, nearly $6,000 was raised for the Shiawassee County Humane Society,” Freeman says. “Snickers was elected Mayor for getting the most votes and raising the most funds.” Freeman and Snickers founded the first 5K9 Walk in 2009 for the Shiawassee Humane Society, as part his Mayoral campaign. The walk, now called the 5K9 Day, is still being held annually.

But this dog’s paws have made tracks to stop bullying too. Snicker’s is the mascot for the Abuse Bites Program that has held fun, educational, interactive anti-bullying workshops all over Michigan. “Snickers always steals the show with his Harley Davidson hat and his Bully Buster Leather Jacket,” Freeman says, “and of course his amazing trick presentation.”

Snickers learned all the tricks for the program in just ten days. And he also passed the pet therapy test and became certified through Therapy Dogs International with just ten days of training. In a matter of months he began winning awards too, such as TDIA (for 50 therapy visits) and TDIAO (for more than 150 therapy visits). “From there, Snickers started helping me train other dogs and handlers for pet therapy,” Freeman says. “Snickers has definitely been paying it forward his entire life. He’s an example for all of us, at Easter, and all year through.”

*For more information about Dog & Pup Obedience, Canine Good Citizen Testing, and Pet Therapy Classes and Certification, contact Lisa Freeman @ abusebites@gmail.com. 

Healing Hearts

It wasn't the news we'd hoped for. Brian, 15, had already been through so much. In the past two years he'd nearly died over a dozen times. He was in the hospital more than at home. I stared at his lifeless body, hooked up to so many tubes, wires, monitors, and I.V.'s.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

Here it was a week after his 5^th open-heart surgery and he still couldn't breathe on his own. Normally he'd bounce right back. Not this time. When they tried to take the ventilator out, he flopped like a fish.

I told the nurse right away. "That's not normal. He doesn't usually breathe like that. Something's wrong." But she insisted he'd be fine. Later, they took an x-ray.

"His diaphragm was paralyzed during the surgery and now it's pressing up against the right lung," the heart surgeon said. "Usually the diaphragm will come back and begin working on its own. We'll give it a few days."

But later that day, Brian's heart rate dropped down to 23 and they nearly lost him. Apparently the special mapping they tried to do during the 16 hour surgery hadn't worked and his rhythm problems were even worse.

"We'll need to perform emergency surgery," the surgeon explained. "It's risky, but he needs a pacemaker and he needs it now. Once they get that placed, he'll have the other surgery on the diaphragm."

Three major surgeries in one week. Wow! He was already in such a weak, critical state. All any of us could do was pray. And we prayed hard.

 Brian was born with only two chambers in his heart. At that time doctors had told us he'd only live to be a year old. Although he'd been critically ill for the first two years of life, he had surpassed all the odds. And by the time he turned three, he was raring to go. He rode his bike, rollerbladed, and swam like a fish.

Then, at 13, all of that suddenly changed. He started getting winded just walking up a few stairs, and had to stop frequently while we were out on family bike rides. His heart, we learned, was only functioning at 40%. They claimed he needed another surgery. I figured, he'd have it, get better, go home, and he'd be as good as new again.

Sadly, after that surgery at 13, his condition only grew worse. No one in the family had a clue. No one that is, except for our formerly abused, rescue dog, Snickers. He would not leave Brian's side for a second. He slept in his bed at night, stayed with him during the day on the couch, and even followed him to the kitchen. 

"You know the rules," I scolded. "Now go lay down!" But Snickers was persistent. He hovered right by the doorway to the kitchen on all fours. His eyes fixed on Brian. I was starting to lose my patience with that dog!

Just as Brian tried to eat his macaroni and cheese, his head flopped onto the table. With bright red cheeks, sweat dripping from his forehead, and hardly able to speak he gasped, "I can't breathe!"

While I ran to the phone to call 9-1-1, Snickers ran to his side and stayed there until the paramedics arrived. I was surprised to find the macaroni and cheese still on the plate at the edge of the table when I grabbed my purse to follow them out.

That's when I realized Snickers wasn't interested in the food at all, he was concerned about Brian. He knew long before I did that something was wrong and he was trying to tell me.

Brian continued having close calls and bouts with tachycardia (heart rate above 200) and even bradycardia (heart rate under 50). Again, during that two year time span, Snickers rarely left Brian's side.

Strange, Snickers had ran under my van a few months before Brian got sick. I had said we would only keep him for the night. Back then I tried everything to get rid of that dog. I called the pound, they were full. I tried to lose him on a walk, he found his way back. I placed an ad in the paper, and by the time his real owner called to claim him, I was totally and hopelessly in love with him, as well as my entire family. Thankfully she allowed us to keep him.

But never in a million years would I have imagined what a huge healing role this new member of our family would play in Brian's healing.

Back in the waiting room at Detroit Children's Hospital, the surgeon finally came out. "Everything went well," he said. "The pacemaker's in, the diaphragm fixed, and Brian's in recovery. You'll be able to see him soon."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

We couldn't have gotten better news. We hadn’t been home in nearly a month, and I knew we needed to pay bills. So, after seeing that Brian was stable, we went home to take care of business. I decided while we were there to make a family video for him. I went all over to see his cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles and taped everyone I could think of. I even did a small clip with Snickers.

When we returned to the hospital, things didn't look good.

They had weaned Brian from the ventilator, but now he was hacking and coughing uncontrollably, from the fluid on his lungs. He began vomiting too. The doctors ran more tests. With those tests came more bad news.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, "but your son has Pancreatitis." He explained that it was an inflammation and infection of the pancreas and could be quite serious, especially with Brian's underlying heart condition, and all the surgeries he'd just been through. They went on to say that he might not pull through. Every day was touch and go.

We soon learned the only way to cure pancreatitis is to not eat and wait it out. Brian hadn't eaten for nearly three weeks. When I told him he couldn't eat, he cried and begged me to take him home. "I just want to see Snickers, please," he said in between coughs. "Can't I go home, please?!"

"I know, honey," I said, giving him a huge hug. "I want to take you home to see Snickers too, but you need to get well first."

At that moment I felt totally helpless.

Later that day I remembered the video I'd made. I thought it might cheer him up to see everyone. So I plugged it in and pressed play. He didn't seem too enthused by it at first, until it got to the part about Snickers. When he saw Snickers sitting on his bed, wagging his tail, tears rolled down his cheeks.

Within twenty-four hours of watching that video, Brian's condition greatly improved and he was moved out of ICU. One week later he was even discharged from the hospital. Our three kids threw him a huge homecoming party. All our close relatives were there. When he opened the door they all yelled, "Surprise!"

But the best surprise Brian got was Snickers bolting to the door, so excited to see him, he licked his entire face.

I'm not going to tell you that life has been perfect for Brian or us since then. Actually there have been some really rough times. Brian was on the heart transplant list for five years, but thanks to Snickers, he became fairly healthy and lived at home most of that time. At the age of 22, Brian was healthier than he'd been in years! He was working out at the YMCA a few times a week, walking Snickers around the neighborhood every day, and he'd even lost 42 pounds!

Sadly, Brian suddenly passed away one morning due to a blood clot in his leg. But even then Snickers was right by his side comforting him. He even attended the visitation and funeral, giving love and affection to all who were there.

I know now with all my heart that Snickers was born to bring healing and comfort to others. I'm so glad he chose to run under my van that day!

Snickers has been a Certified Pet Therapy Dog through Therapy Dogs International for seven years now. He's won numerous awards for his therapy visits, raised over $20,000 for needy and abused people and pets, but his greatest gift to others is that fact that he continues to heal hearts everywhere his paws go.

The Runaway Abused Dog That Rescued Me

I was driving home on slushy, nasty roads from my daughter's basketball game. When all of a sudden, a little brown pooch darted under my van. I slammed on the brakes, and slid to a stop. My heart sank.

Frantic, Melissa and I jumped out and looked under the van.

"Oh God, please let the little guy be okay!"

The small wet bundle of straggly fur sprang out from under the van and hopped right into Melissa's arms. I smiled to see he was okay. Melissa took that as a signal to pop the old familiar question.

"Can we keep him, Mom? Please!"

That's when I caught a glimpse of her brand new white basketball shirt. It was covered in black muddy paw prints! All I could think is, "That shirt is never gonna come clean!"

Besides, I didn't want a dog.

Let me explain. I'm not some heartless, cold, ruthless animal hater. No, I totally love animals. BUT I had four hyperactive kids with special needs, a husband, and a brand new house. I had enough cleaning to do, and I wanted the house to stay exactly like it was, brand new.

My number one rule was no pets. The kids knew better than to ask. I'd always say the same thing.

"No!"

But I also knew this dog was shivering, cold, and wet, and if he stayed there much longer on that busy street, he would be road kill. "We can't keep him, but we can't leave him here either."

Melissa smiled big as she carried him up into the van. "Can we keep him for the night, then?"

"Maybe for one night," I agreed, "if you give him a bath."

"Yes!" She grinned from ear to ear. "Isn't he cute, Mom?"

I nodded. Undeniably, he was cute. But with the heat turned up full blast in the van, the smell of wet dog was overpowering all my senses.

Once we were home, the excitement began. All four kids crowded into the bathroom, splashing around, shouting with glee, giggles echoing about. I had this warm mushy feeling like I had made the right decision to let the dog stay. "What could one one night hurt?"

Then I caught a glimpse of it! Those same muddy paw prints I had seen on Melissa's shirt had now worked their way through the entire house, onto each of my brand new floora, and even onto my new couch! I couldn't contain myself any longer.

"DOWN!" I commanded firmly, as I gave the pooch a shove.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, he did the unthinkable! He lowered his bottom to my brand new carpeting, while lifting his tail, and began scooting his rear across the floor. The kids laughed. I wanted to scream!

"Oh no you don't!"

I picked him up, set him outside, and slammed the door. The kids began whining and crying, begging me to let him back in, but I had made up my mind. A few minutes later a knock came at our door.

"Here's your dog," our neighbor said, "he wandered over into our yard."

I smiled sweetly and took the pup. What else could I do? I didn't want to look like an animal hater. So, I decided to stick with the original plan, but that backfired too.

"I'm sorry," the lady at the Humane Society said, "but we're full." She told me I could place an ad in the newspaper and if nobody claimed him after five days I could keep him.

I don't want him!

I placed the ad, praying that someone would call and soon. The phone couldn't have been quieter. And the annoying little pooch followed me everywhere. Like a magnet he was stuck to my heels. When I sat at the computer, he laid under my desk. While trying to fix dinner, I tripped over him. Later, when I went to bed, he sat at the edge staring up at me with these sad, puppy dog eyes. He even followed me to the bathroom!

He was cute, but I wasn't budging!

Finally, after three days, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I leashed him up, took him to a good neighborhood about two miles from our house, and let him loose. I lost him quick and sped home. Walking into the yard, I announced to my husband proudly that I had gotten rid of the dog and hopefully he'd find a new home.

My husband, John, shook his head in disgust and said, "You might want to turn around."

I couldn't believe my eyes! Here was that dog, huffing and puffing walking up the driveway. He was determined to find his back back to me, a person who did everything in their power to lose him. My heart broke.

From that moment on, I fell hopelessly in love with him, picked him into my arms, and told the kids we were keeping him. They named him "Buddy."

Two days later, we came home from church to a message on our machine.

"I think you have my dog."

My heart sank worse than it did that first day when I thought I had hit Buddy with my van. Before saying a word to the kids, I called the lady back. She told me the dog's name was "Snickers" and he had ran away nearly a week ago. Sure enough, his ears perked right up when I called his name, and he came running to me. My heart hurt even more.

After I hung up, I broke the news to the kids. We all huddled together in a blanket of tears surrounding him. So strange how a dog I couldn't wait to get rid of a couple of days ago, had formed such a bond with me and our family that we couldn't bear to let go.

When the lady came to pick him up, he didn't run toward her, instead he hung his head and cowered in my kids arms in the middle of our living room floor. She explained how she had two other dogs, three kids, and one on the way.

"You can just have him," she said, as she handed me his shot record. "He bit me anyways." She showed us a huge scar going up her arm. This made me think there must have been some sort of abuse in the home, probably the reason why Snickers had run away in the first place.

I was shocked by the whole thing. We thanked her from the bottom of our hearts, overjoyed we got to keep him. After she left, I began to put the pieces together. Snickers had never even growled at me, my husband, or our four hyperactive kids the whole time he had been with us. And looking back, when I dumped him off on that walk, he was actually closer to his original home than he was ours, and yet he insisted on going the distance to find his way to us.

Snickers bonded with me instantly. Now I know why. We were meant to be together. Sort of like soul mates. We were both abused runaways. He came into my life to heal me, my family, and has went on to heal many others.

We've now had Snickers for twelve amazing years. During that time Snickers has become an Award-Winning Certified Pet Therapy Dog through Therapy Dogs International (after only ten days of training), he has worked to train other dogs and handlers how to become certified, he has served as the Mascot and "Bully Buster" of our Abuse Bites program to stop abuse and bullying, he won Mayor of the Shiawassee Humane Society for raising the most funds/votes ($5,000) for needy and abused pets, he helped raise over $20,000 for needy and abused people and pets locally, and he has put on an amazing trick presentation for kids all over Michigan at events in schools, libraries, and hospitals.

I thought I was rescuing Snickers that day on the side of the road, but really he was rescuing me. I may have had a brand new house when I met him, but he is truly what has made our house a home.

DOGS BEHAVING BADLY

Last week we did the Perryfest Parade in Perry, Michigan. Since we were already shorthanded I thought it best to leave our little stinker "Baby Ruth" at home and just bring "Snickers" our Certified Pet Therapy Dog.

BUT Daddy (my hubby) said she could go. So I turned to Baby Ruth (our min pin, rat terrier, chihuahua mix) who was waiting impatiently by the door and said, "Guess what? Daddy said you can go?!" She started dancing in a circle all excitedly. Everyone laughed it was so cute.

So I grabbed both the dogs leashes. Then realized I didn't pack any waters or even a water dish for the dogs! OOOPS! After grabbing the waters last minute, we were out the door right at 10:30 a.m. like we had planned.

As we drove down our street I had a bright idea.

"We should let the dogs have a quick run before the half hour drive to get their energy out," I announced to my husband.

He pulled the van over at the soccer ball fields, and I let them both out, unleashed, not even thinking. Another OOPS!

We were laughing at first to see Baby Ruth running crazily around the whole open field along the creek, but then she stopped and started eating something.

I commanded her to "Leave It!" and every other dog command I could think of, which only encouraged her to eat faster. That was an even bigger OOPS!

I commanded her to come. Instead of coming to me, she stopped eating, dropped, and rolled in whatever it was, smearing her face entirely in it, and then since Snickers had ran back to the van, she did too. That's when we realized she was covered in poop and had a BIG CLUMP stuck to the side of her face! URG!

So back home we sped.

My son Jeremiah took her around back to put her on the chain, while I fled in the house to wash the leashes (she had even gotten poo on Snickers leash too!) The door was locked and none of the 5 million keys on the ring would work! REALLY?

Finally, I got the door opened, washed the leashes, and cleaned the sinks and counters, but I had no time to bathe Baby Ruth or we'd really be late. So I had no choice but to leave her on the chain until we got home.

Thankfully, despite the slew of mishaps that morning, the parade turned out fabulous! The parade director even told my husband, John, to drive slow through town because they were going to give us an extra long shout out about our Abuse Bites program and pay tribute to our son, Brian, who passed away last year.

I've been in a lot of parades, but their announcement, that morning, was so wonderful, it made me cry.

Later, I returned home and bathed the little stinker, which by this time, the poo was all hardened and stuck in her fur. Two shampoos later and she came out smelling like a dog I could cuddle and hold again.

But I'm learning that some dogs (like Baby Ruth) if given an inch, will take a mile, so they need more discipline and structure and probably shouldn't be unleashed for their own protection. I've also learned from experience that when she does eat something nasty, she always ends up sick.

We're actually a lot like dogs. We often go back to the same old garbage too, in our friendships, relationships, and other things that pull us down, which can make us physically and emotionally ill. So let's take care of those that we love, work on changing the bad behaviors, and staying away from the garbage in life.

I've had to work much harder with, Baby Ruth, than perhaps with Snickers, but I love her so much. Instead of hurting her when she's bad, I tell her NO, and focus on the times she's good and praise her for that!

Love and praise are the most powerful and effective tools for training dogs, but especially for dogs behaving badly.