Sunday, January 17, 2016

Holding Out Hope




He was a tiny furry shivering bundle brought to me by 3 friends in the cold darkness of a Winter's Night.  This little one had been found in the middle of a dark road all alone and left to die.  Tears stained the faces of those who brought this little one to me signaling he'd already taken a piece of their hearts. I looked at this helpless kitten and immediately named him Hope.

Within an hour he and I were at the local vet office hoping for a good prognosis.  He was obviously unable to move his back legs, he had a severe upper respiratory infection, dangerously low body temperature and a myriad of other maladies.  But he was fighting--my how he was fighting.  An x-ray showed no obvious breaks and the vet sent us home with an arsenal of medications.  

At first I had to force-feed Hope which is normal for a cat with a severe upper respiratory infection--if they can't smell their food they just don't eat.  But within 2 days, he was eating on his own--3 cans of food a day.  Hope was incontinent so I expressed his bladder and assisted him in other ways to keep him comfortable.  In spite of  all his "ailments", Hope purred and meowed and kneaded the air when he heard or saw me.

I began searching online for any information I could find that would give me some look into Hope's future life as a paralyzed cat and found groups of folks who had successfully transitioned paralyzed cats into lives that were full of love and contentment for both the human "parents" and the affected cats. I watched videos of these cats climbing and playing and enjoying life as their humans watched in pleased amazement.

I began to hold out hope that a video of this little one would someday be added to those that had encouraged me as I began my journey into yet another kitty adventure God has sent my way.  Though others were already encouraging me to "let Hope go", I was holding out hope that this little one would beat the odds.

Perhaps Hope's story faintly echoed another so long ago that changed my life and heart forever: the diagnosis of my only full-term child, Richie, with a rare terminal disease that left him unable to walk, stand or do normal everyday baby things.  Though doctors told me there was no hope and that I should take my young son home and enjoy the time we had left, I decided to fight hard and it was then I first realized that as long as there is life, a mother's heart never loses hope.  Even when specialists strongly suggested I put my son in a nursing home to make it easier for me I cared for Richie and hung onto hope. 

 I dug in and steeled myself to go the distance with my son but even though I had prayed that distance would be a marathon it turned out only to be a short sprint. A little less than a year later and after doing everything humanly possible for my son he died and, for a time, so did my hope.  The darkness of my grief almost overwhelmed me but then, as time went on, slivers of hope forced their way into the cold dark shroud that encompassed my heart and soul and forced me to choose the path my life would take: should I settle for just being alive or should I really live?  By finding the courage to have hope again I could honor my son's life by living life to the fullest--by living for us both--by helping others find their hope again.  

And so, as I looked into the eyes of my little furry Hope, I knew he, like my son, was here for only a short season to love and learn from. Though I wanted it to be otherwise,  his time here was brief but just long enough to learn what God wanted me to feel and think and internalize and to share with others...

That no matter what, we must always hold out hope.  Hope is what makes us get up every day and believe that all things are possible even in the midst of the most difficult times of our lives.  And even when life seems to be so very unfair and things don't turn out as we wanted them to it is this continued hope that helps us to truly live--not just be alive.  

Holding out hope is never a waste of time or energy-neither is it foolish.  It's a God-given blessing to help us through this difficult, wonderful, painful, beautiful journey called life.


Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2016
Jackie Deems






Monday, July 20, 2015

So God Created Rescuers...





When God looked out over the great expanse of the earth viewing all His creations 
He realized He had just 1 more to create.

He needed someone who would see past a raggedy outward appearance, look squarely into eyes filled with pain and connect with a wounded heart...
So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would say yes to those others had already said no to, someone who could help rekindle a  spirit crushed by abuse, neglect or apathy...
So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would have nerves of steel, an iron resolve to help no matter
the personal cost and, a heart overflowing with compassion... 
So God created rescuers. 

He needed someone who would fight for those who could not fight for themselves, someone
to speak for those with voices too small or weak to be heard...
So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would suffer continual loss and heartbreak, spend countless hours and days and weeks with little or no encouragement--even be ridiculed for what He had created them to do...
So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would be willing to go without, to give to those who have even less, to sometimes give every last cent  because another needs it even more...
So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would believe in miracles despite how grave the situation--to see past what others see as the obvious--to believe in what could be, to never give up hope...
So God created rescuers.

He needed someone who would see the value in every living creature, whether they are covered with fur, wool, hair, scales, fins, feathers or...human skin...
So God created rescuers.

For in the end, when all is said and done--whether we rescue 1 or 101--be they animals or people, God is pleased with our efforts to help all His creations--each was important enough to Him to create.  And, whether our rescue efforts are "successful" or not, what matters most is the "trying".  For it's in the trying that God is so clearly seen here on earth.







Shepherdess Blog
July 2015
Copyright 2015 Jackie Deems















Sunday, August 3, 2014

For the Love of Olivia







I just lost my dear Olivia...

The first time I saw her she was 10 weeks old and terribly shy--so much so that she hid from me whenever I entered the building she was in.  She and her 4 litter mates were going to be tossed out in the woods somewhere--like garbage--by their owner because he did not want any more cats.  I was able to intervene before he carried out his unbelievable (to me) plan and brought the 5 little ones into the rescue.

Each sibling was a different color and each had distinctively different personalities.  All were delightful. Olivia tugged at my heart from the moment I saw her.

I worked to earn Olivia's trust and, though it took some time, she eventually sought me out for attention. Last winter she bonded instantly to a gentleman considering her for adoption but he chose another cat instead.  My heart was heavy for this dear sweet girl who was always overlooked, I thought she'd finally found her "person" but sadly she was left behind.

So Olivia became one of my special girls.  I love all my rescues but some just tug more at my heart strings than others.  Livy was sweet and naive and purred nonstop once she found her purr...even purring for the vet techs when she got a routine blood test for FeLV/Fiv.

She loved climbing trees and spending the day at the pond and snuggling at night in her building with her brother, Nathanael.  When I picked her up, she relaxed in my arms and purred a deep contented "I love you" kind of purr.  She had finally come into her own, she knew she belonged here with me and was content with that.  As was I...

About a week ago some kind folks drove down from Columbus to look at our many rescues--hopefully to adopt 1 or more.  They had decided on Nathanael and Olivia and since they were going on vacation the day after visiting the rescue, decided they would pick the cats up this week.  Their home would have been a place Livy would have been loved and cherished, the perfect forever home for she and Nathanael.  I was so happy for them but knew I would also miss them both terribly.  But my goal is that each rescue here find their own home--have their very own family. Livy was finally going to have that.

This evening when I was doing chores I heard a cat crying out for me. I looked around and found Olivia displaying some neurological symptoms. Immediately I went to work giving her subcutaneous fluids while she purred and rubbed her head on me.  I realized there was something terribly wrong with her--more than I had the knowledge for--so called the vet and got Livy in the car.

Before we got to the clinic she was gone...

The vet assumed it was some sort of poison since Olivia was gone so quickly.  I use no chemicals--no pesticides--anywhere on the farm--ever.

So I am left, as we all are when we suddenly lose someone we love--be it  human or otherwise--asking how and why and what if...

The pain of loss oftentimes leaves us wondering if it's worth it--all  this loving and letting people and animals into our lives and hearts--then painfully having to let them go. 

Fortunately life eventually goes on and we open ourselves up to love again because deep down we know love is always worth it.  Though love and loss inevitably intertwine and (at moments) become one-- intersecting at the very point of our fragile hearts and weary souls--love is always worth it.

For when we stop loving we stop truly living...

And tomorrow, when I bury my sweet, loving Olivia, part of my heart will go with her into the grave--the part I willingly gave the moment I first saw her.

"But now abide faith, hope, love these three; but the greatest of these is love."  I Corinthians 13: 13


August 3, 2014
Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2014  Jackie Deems




Friday, December 20, 2013

                                         An Early Christmas Gift

Gifts come in all shapes and sizes, some are even covered with fur...

 

Lola and her litter mates were born on the farm after I took 2 very pregnant mommy cats (a mom and her daughter) into the rescue a week before they gave birth. If I didn't take in the moms the babes would be born on the streets so I felt I had no choice but to bring the moms home and make them as comfortable as I could. 

Long story short, soon after both moms gave birth 1 of them disappeared in the building they were staying in.  I would see her come and go and nurse her babies then she appeared to stop interacting with her kittens and the other mom took over care of all the kittens.

I knew 1 mom could not take care of 2 litters so I pulled 2 of the smaller kittens and began bottle feeding them.  Before too long, and after getting used to the bottle, they were both purring and interacting with me as I became their new "mom".

A few weeks later Lola, one of the little girls I was bottle feeding, became lethargic and refused to eat.  I took her to the local vet and they said she either had a very large heart murmur or a condition called PDA--a life threatening heart condition.  The vet prescribed Lasix, which improved Lola's problem tremendously and I took her home.

A week later, after spending almost 3 full days and nights with Lola (with neither of us sleeping much), we were in the vet's office in the middle of the night again.  This time she was gasping for air and the vet told me if she survived this incident I should take her to a specialist for further care.

The next morning my friend, Mary Ann, drove Lola and I to MedVet in Columbus.  I prayed continually for the little 9-week-old kitten as she was literally gasping for air almost the entire trip. Miraculously, God got us there safely with Lola breathing on her own.

Once Lola was stabilized with the use of oxygen, the emergency room doctor spoke with us.  He wanted to run tests to diagnose Lola's condition so he could give us an idea of what we were dealing with.  Testing would be expensive as would any life saving procedure and, I barely had enough funds to support the cats in our rescue. How could I justify spending so much on 1 little kitten--1 little kitten that had completely stolen my heart?

I cried and prayed and asked God what I should do.  I asked my friend what to do, I called my husband and pleaded with him to say yes to whatever needed to be done to save Lola. He could not tell me no and said, "If you don't do this you will never forget it and always regret it.  We will find a way to pay for it."

Then in the midst of all the tears and agonizing questions came the calm, quiet voice of God speaking to my heart telling me it was going to be OK.  I felt Him say, "Go ahead, let Lola have the surgery. Give me the chance to show you how much I love and care for you. See how I will provide for this need as I do all your others."  

At that moment I knew Lola would have her surgery and I told Mary Ann several times that day that I felt peaceful about helping Lola and that I knew God was going to take care of the finances in a "supernatural way".

It made no sense to go ahead--create more bills (and stress) when the checkbook said one thing and God said another. But I am learning when God speaks to me about something, even though it makes no earthly sense at all, I must listen and obey.

Because that's when God works best...when our narrow earthly vision sees no way out.  When the end result could not have been accomplished by sheer will or sweat or in any other way we humans try so hard and fail at.

Though Lola's surgery was a full 6 months ago (and I have been paying her bill slowly down) I did not write about it until today.  Why now?  Because I just received a phone call from MedVet telling me someone I have never met has paid Lola's full vet bill off.

I cried for a full hour after I got that call and am still crying now as I write this because the quite simple (yet profoundly complex) reality of God's faithfulness quite simply overwhelms me.

His faithfulness; I sing about it in church, I read about it in the Bible but today, I felt it in my heart because God cares enough to explain it to me in "my language"--a little fur covered gift named Lola.

Pictured above: Lola just before surgery in her oxygen box and Lola recently "climbing" a tree as "mom" closely supervises.

 

Shepherdess Blog December 20, 2013  

Jackie Deems Copyright 2013


Sunday, September 8, 2013

Doing Your Best
 
 
 
 
 
                                                                Tiny, 3 days ago


It's 4:30 a.m. and I just lost a rescue kitten I have been working to keep alive for weeks.  I named him Tiny since, well, he was...



When I first saw Tiny, his litter mates and mom they were urine soaked, full of fleas and malnourished.  By malnourished I mean I could see every rib on 2 of the kittens through their fur.  Tiny was clearly in the worst shape of all the kittens.

I was afraid to bathe the kittens since I was not sure if mom would accept them back as hers if they were clean.  But when I saw she was trying to bathe them herself I knew I had no choice but to take on that job for her--I did not want her to ingest the filth her kittens were laden with. 

I had just finished bottle feeding another litter around the clock for weeks so I was not interested in taking on another group so soon.  I decided to bathe 2 of the kittens and see if mom accepted them back then I'd bathe the other two if that was a success.  I always like to bottle feed 2 kittens together so they can bond with each other and interact with another kitten.  I could bottle feed 2 if I had to, 4 would be more difficult and also leave mom without any kittens to care for, something that was not good for mom.

I gingerly dipped the first wiggly, grimy, urine soaked kitten into the warm, soapy water and the sink's contents turned brown immediately.  I emptied the filthy water then repeated this process 3 times with both kittens before the sink water was semi-clean.

I towel dried the little ones then returned them to mom who, to my relief, immediately began to lick them dry.  I then bathed the 2 remaining kittens and also returned them to mom.  The person I took these cats from had bathed mom so I just left her as she was for the time being.

As I focused in on mom and her wonderful mothering ability, I realized she was not much more than a mere kitten herself--most certainly under 1 year of age.  If she had not been taken off the street, her life would be one of producing litter after litter of kittens--many would not make it past the first few days of life.  Her life expectancy would typically be about half of what a well-cared for cat's life span would be.  This litter would be her first and last.

Mom was a wonderful mommy, she was affectionate towards her babies and me and her kittens seemed to be putting on weight and progressing naturally.  Three of the 4 remained much smaller than what I though they should be but they played and ate and seemed to be doing well considering their circumstances.

Until they were about 12 weeks old...

The kittens had been weaned and were eating well on their own but I noticed 3 of the 4 kittens seemed as if they were not putting on as much weight as their larger litter mate. I kept the 3 smaller kittens together in the house where I could see them at all times of the day and night (the larger litter mate had bonded to other kittens) and gave them a diet higher in calories.

One afternoon I went to check the kittens and 1 of the kittens, Little, was dead. Angel, the only girl in the litter, was doing well but Tiny seemed to be lethargic.  I started subcutaneous fluids immediately and syringe fed high calorie food into him.  He rallied then crashed--rallied then crashed.  A trip to the vet's uncovered nothing alarming so I brought Tiny home and worked with him around the clock.  One minute he was alert and playing, the next, he was lethargic.

This morning, after sleeping just a few hours, I went to check Tiny and he was all but gone.  His heart was still beating slightly so I worked on him for over an hour.  I could tell he was fighting to live (he  had been fighting hard his whole little life)  and I fought for him.  Then he was gone...

I am sad, tired beyond belief and wondering why Tiny could not live to climb trees and chase leaves and just be a healthy kitten.  But I also know some of the kittens I bring into my rescue are genetically impaired (inbred) and will have major health issues--some that won't be apparent immediately--some that aren't "fixable".

And, I question if I did everything I could have done for Tiny.  Deep down I know I did my best and so much more than many would even consider doing. 

I remember seeing a sign years ago that said, "Do your best and leave the rest to God".  I have tried to live my life out just that way in all situations including my rescue efforts.  I do my best but I can't do any more.  God has control over life and death, not me.  Yes, I can do my part but that's all  I can do. 

I loved Tiny, really loved him (still do).  And he loved me back.  How do I know this?  Tiny had a first class purr--regardless of how he was feeling--that little guy had his purr machine always turned on. Tiny's last act in this life was to purr.  As I held him, sang to him and told him I loved him, he purred.  He purred...

Shepherdess Blog
September 8, 2013
Jackie Deems  Copyright 2013








Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Just Another Day in Paradise...




So, it was a great morning--other than the 6,000% humidity, raccoon proofing the chicken coop, an air attack by the bug brigade, etc.  I kept telling myself sweating cleanses the body.  If that's true, I'm cleansed through 2030.

Any ways, around 2:00 p.m. I noticed my chickens were having a chicken fit and turned to see a raccoon just a few feet away from them. SPOILER ALERT: Don't read the rest of this paragraph if you are faint of heart.  Raccoons like to kill chickens but they don't do it in a nice way (not that there's a nice way to murder something).  Raccoons like to rip chicken's heads off--literally--then discard the little lifeless body like a broken ragdoll. I told you not to read it...

One more thing about raccoons; they aren't really supposed to be out in the middle of the day.  I have always been told that they only come out in the middle of the day if they are sick (like they're going for a doctor's appointment)?  Actually, they come out when they are hungry and see food. And this guy had his heart set on Raccoon KFC--my live chickens.

I did not want to kill the raccoon, I have a hard time killing even bugs. So, I let my hunting dog, Lucky, (well, he was born a hunting dog but chose the wrong people for his owners) out to tree the raccoon so I could at least keep an eye on where he was. Lucky will never fulfill his destiny on this farm but treeing a raccoon has to make up for his lack, in some small way, of being used for real hunting.

I call my defunct hunting dog over to the tree where the raccoon now is at the top of and Lucky looks up, turns around and walks away.

Next I try my Dachschund, Buddy, who goes in and out of the coop all day kind of like the farm's self appointed Chicken Watcher.  Surely he will see this raccoon as the serial chicken killer he is. He too looks up in the tree, sees the raccoon, turns around and walks away.  There must be some telepathic connection between the raccoon and these 2 dogs that I, a mere human, can't possibly ever understand. My mind is too simple for the complexities of raccoon and dog brains.

So, I decide to get my chickens into coop #2 where the raccoon is not.  Yay! Success, finally...after lots of sweating and body cleansing.

In the meantime, I can't find the oldest farm cat, Muffin, to get her settled for the night.  I do get my latest rescue old man cat, Alfie, in his apartment only to look up 10 minutes later to see him walking around the side yard. How did he get out? Who knows? At this point, who cares?

I am also filling sheep waterers, checking the burn pile so it does not burn down a nearby barn, still looking for Muffin, keeping an eye on the raccoon (who is keeping an eye on me), and trying to get ahold of my lead Livestock Guard Dog, Molly, to treat a surface wound she has. Oh yes, the humidity hasn't gone down 1% either and the mosquitoes have launched enough air attacks on me that the Red Cross won't be expecting me to donate blood this century. In fact, I may need a transfusion before it's all over with.

Where are my guineas?  It's almost dark and they should be in the coop by now.  They're roosting in the trees. Oh, that's right, they won't go in the coop because I put the new chickens (I just got last night) on the other side of the guinea coop this morning and the guineas won't roost next to new chickens.  How could I forget something so significant in the grand scheme of things (tongue firmly planted in cheek here)?

Finally it's dark outside and I can't see all the craziness going on except by flashlight. But I can still imagine what's going on and that can be even worse than reality when you have a very active imagination.

It's approaching midnight and my energy level is almost nil. I could pull an all nighter here but my body says no. The spirit is willing but...

Instead I bow my head and say this simple prayer:  "Bless you guineas, and chickens and Alfie.  God, as always, is watching over you. Thank You, Lord, for letting me find Muffin.  Please put the raccoon in the live trap so I can relocate him tomorrow morning.  Help me let go of the cares of the day and to realize all that happened today was not a surprise to you.  In the grand scheme of life, these are all just minor inconveniences. "

With that I fall into a semi-deep body cleansing sleep.

Shepherdess Blog
July 16, 2013
Jackie Deems  Copyright 2013



 

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Full Circle...



 
Randy Williams & Patti just before she came home to Ohio
 
 
It's not often we get to see events in our lives come full circle...
 
 
 
The first time I saw Patti and her sister, Sweetie, they were 10 weeks old.  My husband, Chuck, and I had driven 3 hours to see the two pups we hoped to add as livestock guard dogs to our growing sheep flock.
 
Patti and Sweetie were crammed into a metal cage with a metal bottom, sitting in the full sun with a tarp over the cage.  In August. They had no water and were panting so badly I feared for their lives.  Chuck and I knew that even if we didn't want these 2 pups we would take them just to get them to safety.  As we drove home with the girls Patti gave us the cold shoulder by turning her back on us and  not responding to our voices when we tried to talk to her.
 
Our lead dog, Molly, was wary about the pups at first but quickly seemed to understand they were not competition but the help she needed.  They bonded quickly to each other and were inseparable in a matter of days.
 
As the girls grew up Patti grew more and more aloof.  Though she responded to my voice by wagging her tail, she remained just beyond reach when I tried to pet her. When I entered the pasture she would leave for another paddock and I noticed she interacted much more comfortably with the other dogs and sheep than with me.  Though she was never aggressive towards me, she certainly was not interested in spending time with me as the other dogs were.
 
When Patti was 3 years old she began to leave the pasture. By leaving, I mean just that--she dug out of the pasture and stayed outside the fence away from the sheep--and from me. I consulted several people who had been raising Livestock Guard Dogs (LGD's) for many years and they all told me there are some guards that prefer to guard outside the pasture so they can get to the predators before they enter the pasture.  That may work in some neighborhoods but not in ours where many of the neighbors have a "cute" saying: "Shoot, Shovel and Shut Up" referring to what happens to stray dogs if they cross their (the neighbor's) property lines.
 
When Patti decided to not only guard her sheep but also all the livestock in the neighborhood--meaning she roamed continually-- I knew it was time to find her a new home.  I "loaned" her to a friend in Indiana who had a coyote problem and a more understanding group of neighbors than I had.  Patti took care of the predator problem at her new home but she also began to leave the pasture and run into the road where she'd hide behind trees and jump out at unsuspecting drivers.  This did not set well with those she "played" this game with.

So Patti came back to our farm, this time we had electric fencing installed behind our woven wire fence that held her in the pasture for about a year and a half until she found she could dig under the fence and slide herself under the electric wire without being shocked.

I knew it was just a matter of time before Patti became a problem again with our neighbors so I began to advertise her to the farms in our state.  No one responded until one day I got a call from a lady in Pennsylvania who was looking for a guard dog for her sheep--the same breed we raise.  Patti would have 100 acres to roam and the 7 strand very hot electric fence this farm used seemed like the perfect place to keep Patti contained.

In August of 2010 I met the people who were to pick up Patti, we loaded her up in their car (she had to be sedated for me to even catch her) and she was on her way to PA.  Finally, Patti would be able to guard on a large farm while being safely enclosed by electric fencing.  It seemed like the perfect solution and life for Patti and her new owners.

Or so I thought...

The day after Patti left our farm I got a call from her new owners.  Things had not gone well, Patti had timed the shock pulse of the electric fence and jumped through the strands 10 minutes after she'd gotten to her new home. It was literally my worst nightmare for her or any of my animals--to be taken to a new home and escape from it before they knew where they was supposed to come back to.  The fact that Patti was hundreds of miles away from me or anything she knew made things even worse.

The new owners immediately looked for her and alerted their neighbors about her escape.  But there was no sign of Patti anywhere--she'd just vanished.  I kept in close contact with Patti's new owners and they began to get calls from people who had spotted her including a neighbor who caught her on a video camera they had installed on their hiking trails.  Patti was still in the area and I was assured by her new owners it would just be a matter of time before they got her back to their farm. Though I wanted to come immediately to where Patti had disappeared in PA, I was assured everything that could be done to find and catch her was being done.

So I waited and prayed...

Patti sightings were still coming frequently for quite some time but as they tapered off I felt I had to go and try to bring her home.  You have to understand that making a trip by myself, to a place I did not know (that had bears) to walk the woods and fields--without getting lost was, to those who know me, either the act of a deluded mind or a huge leap of faith.  I wavered between these 2 possibilities and decided that a leap of faith at least sounded like the better of the possibilities.

For 7 days I prayed, walked, talked to many strangers, handed out and posted flyers, ran ads, visited state and local law enforcement and called every dog shelter or pound or vet clinic within reason. I even contacted the local newspapers to see if anyone would pick up the story and 1 paper did.  That story written by writer/dog lover, Chris Togneri, brought me many leads while I was in PA and I followed each one hoping 1 of these dogs would be Patti.  Each time I went away without my girl...

I finally had to leave PA alone and each mile between Patti and I actually caused me to weep for her.  I asked God why I could not find her but heard no answer.

For months I prayed and cried and dreamed (not good dreams) about Patti.  I felt I had betrayed and doomed her to death and the guilt was weighing my heart down.  I knew that since she did not seek human contact she would not be easily caught and, since she would gravitate towards livestock, would most likely be shot as a marauding dog.

Though it took me a while to get to that place, I realized I had done all I could--more than many would have done--and I let it go.  I remembered seeing a little sign years ago that said, "Do your best and leave the rest to God".  I had certainly done my best, now I had to let God do His part and in His time.

All leads evaporated.  It seemed Patti had vanished from my life as easily as she'd vanished into the PA woods and countryside until I decided for, whatever reason, to place just 1 more ad in the local PA paper that had published the story about Patti. I called it a Christmas present to myself all the while not expecting to get a response from that ad.

A few days after I placed the ad I got a call from a gentleman in PA (Randy Williams) who lived 12 miles from where Patti had last been seen--12 miles from the farm she was supposed to live at.  He had been told my his mother-in-law about my ad and said he was sure he had Patti.  Id' heard that story so many times before that I didn't get too excited about what he had to say.  I asked if he could take a picture of the dog and he told me he didn't know if he could get close enough to her.  Within minutes he sent me a picture that sent chills through me.  It looked like Patti had indeed gotten to their farm and was safe after all.

Of course, to be 100% sure it was her I would have to go to PA--in winter, during the coldest weekend of that winter.  All the way there I prayed it would be Patti.  As soon as I pulled up into the Williams' driveway Patti met me barking and running beside my van.  Now, she was not barking because she was happy to see me, she barked because I was an "intruder".   I knew I had my work cut out for me if I was going to be successful in catching Patti.

All that weekend I tried to catch her by putting sedatives in hot dogs--her favorite treat.  All weekend she eluded me as I sat for hours in  a cold van trying to look uninterested and or invisible to Patti. The Williams offered their home to me during the day and I went from window to window in their house following her movements.  But nothing worked and after seeing how hard I tried to catch Patti all weekend, the Randy and Laurie (Williams) said they would continue taking care of Patti with the hope that they could someday catch her and return her to me.

I cried much of the 4 hour drive home and talked to my dear friend, Mary Ann, on the phone.  Though I was so sad I could not catch Patti I also was so grateful to God that I had seen her and knew she was in loving hands.  It was almost beyond my comprehension that God cared enough for me and knew how much I was grieving over Patti that He let me know she was OK.  I could have just as easily never known what happened to her.

I emailed the reporter, Chris Togneri, and asked if he'd consider doing a follow-up article giving Randy and Laurie credit for taking in Patti and letting readers know the end of the story.  Unbelievably Chris still got inquiries about Patti and people wanted a happy ending so he interviewed the Williams Family and took along a photographer (Andy) with a very long lens since Patti would not come close to them.

For a time I kept in touch with the Williams and they continued loving and caring for Patti for 2 years after my last attempt to bring her home.  Then we lost touch until this past March when I received an email from Chris Togneri telling me Randy Williams had contacted him to see if they'd do a story about Patti again. 

It seems a neighbor of theirs was routinely calling the dog warden with complaints about Patti being on his property.  The neighbor could legally shoot and kill Patti if she was on his property and the Williams were facing some large fines if they did not restrain Patti. Restrain Patti?  Not an easy task. You'd have to catch her first and Randy would not even try to restrain Patti since he believed it would kill her. He thought if Chris could write an article about the situation maybe someone with a lot of land and livestock would take Patti in.

I immediately called Randy and told him we'd come for Patti if they could catch her.  He told me the dog warden had tried several different things to catch her and had even called in a "dog whisperer" who failed to catch Patti amd said she was too smart to trick or catch.  At this point the dog warden and I were also in touch because I wanted him to know we were committed to bringing Patti back to Ohio, out of his jurisdiction.

On a Saturday, two weeks later, we got a call from Laurie saying they had caught Patti (who was heavily sedated) and that we needed to get in our car and drive to PA now!  Now doesn't happen easily on our farm but in 2 hours we got things settled enough to leave.  I called Chris, the reporter, to let him know we were on our way since he'd asked if he could be there to get the real end of the story.

Chris, Andy (the photographer), the Williams Family and some friends were there to meet us when we got to PA.  Patti was still very sleepy so the Williams offered us dinner and we all talked about Patti's "adventure".  Many tears were shed since the Williams Family, especially Allison (Randy and Laurie's teenage daughter), had become very fond of Patti and kept saying it wasn't fair that she had to leave.  It was difficult for them to let her go but a necessity if Patti was to be safe. 

After an hour we loaded Patti into the car for the 4 hour drive home.  She slept most of the way back and once we got her to our farm I put her behind electric fence she would not cross.  She stayed there for 2 weeks until I thought she'd know where she could come back to once she left the pasture. I was sure she would not stay within the pasture fence for long amd assumed she wold leave it the first chance she got.

Much to my surprise Patti has not left the pasture but has stayed inside the fence for the last 3 months she has been home.  Not only did I finaly get my Patti back, but she came back a new "improved" Patti.

And, I know without a doubt each step of this journey, Patti's journey, was led by God.  I also know that because it was so important to me to bring Patti home so she could be safe, He brought these events full circle just for me!



Shepherdess Blog 
June 23,2013
Copyright 2013  Jackie Deems