Author: Amy Olivieri

My life has gone to the dogs! It's my passion to educate people about fostering, adoption, and good pet ownership within the pages of Unleash Jacksonville and on unleashjax.com.

Meet Blue, he’s badASS.

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Written By Blue of Blue’s Miracle, as published in Unleash Jacksonville’s RESOLUTE issue.

ADOPT BLUE! He’s sweet, playful, and loves kids! See videos and follow his progress on Facebook!
Want to show your love and support for Blue? Check out his fundraiser sticker and shirts!

All eyes on me—gosh, I’m a lot nervous … but I’m honored to be featured. This is crazy! I’ve never written anything before. Sure, I did pee a really cool pattern onto the side of an ottoman once—I’m thinking maybe this will be similar in experience to that? I don’t particularly think I’m all that special, but I do have a story for you. Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything? A soft little lick on the hand, perhaps?

My name wasn’t always Blue. It really doesn’t matter much what it used to be—I go by Blue now and I like it. Beautiful things are blue, like the sky and the ocean and my foster mom’s feet in the winter—it’s been a real cold one, eh? I was given the official name “Little Boy Blue” by the staff at First Coast Veterinary Emergency in October of last year, when I was brought in by my family. I heard them tell the nurse I’d gotten caught in a fence and could no longer walk. No longer walk is right! I could barely move, I was in so much pain. The sweet nurse asked my family if they’d like to find out what was wrong with me. I saw them hand my family an estimate. Mom and dad put their heads down and shook them back and forth. Not what I wanted to see, I was hoping for more of a nod up and down. They pushed the estimate away and scribbled on another set of papers. I believe that meant I was signed over to the clinic to be … uh … euthanized.

I watched them leave and I wanted to go with them, but I couldn’t make my body move the way it always had. “Wait! You forgot me!” I screamed in my head. They never heard my headscreams before, so not sure why I thought now would be different. But I was really freaking out and everything hurt so badly … I was desperate. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

Well, sigh, they left. You probably guessed that. If they hadn’t this would be the end of a super boring story. But it’s not, and it’s about to get better, so stick with me.

Back in the treatment area, I lay in a kennel. I didn’t cry, but the pain was un-be-flippin-lievable. The staff was so kind to give me a pill which helped a lot. They would peer in at me and I would look up at them, and I tried as hard as I could to talk to them with my eyes—they were all I had. I wanted the staff to know that other than the fact that I had a broken back, I was a healthy, happy, sweet 6-month-old pup, and maybe someone could call mom and let her know she forgot to put me back in the car. Or call dad? We were good buddies! I really didn’t understand where my family went. I continued to talk with my eyes.

Then it was … my time. Dr. Tim Holloway was ready to see me. He put his hand on my head and sighed. I could read his mind. He didn’t like this part of his job. (Great! Finally something I could use to my advantage!) I poured on all the sweet I could, as if my life depended on it. Sweet eyes; check. Little soft hand licks; check; little head tilts; check. Cute face; checkcheckcheck. Some of the other staff was vouching for me—I kept hearing them say really nice things about me. (Thank you, thank you—you know who you are!) The next thing I know, I’m back in my kennel and they were all standing around it talking about something called a “McNicholas.” I tried to pay attention, I tried so hard. But all I wanted to do was sleep.

I woke the next day to the face of an angel. My angel. She was, gosh, how do I describe her? Well, okay, so you know how dogs have the ability to see someone’s heart through their chest? When I woke up that day, ALL I could see was a huge heart with red hair pulled back into a cute little clip—classic Anette Nixon. She was cooing to me and petting me softly and making me feel warm inside—loved, I guess is the right word. I fell for her immediately. (I loved her even more when she brought me roasted chicken and helped me eat it out of her hand, but that’s jumping ahead.) Anette told me I had eyes that look directly into a person’s soul … which was really nice to hear, since that was how I liked to communicate at that time. She got me.

I came to find out on that first morning what a McNicholas was—I’m glad I didn’t have to wait too long, it was killing me! Turns out, it wasn’t a thing, it was a person! Haha, what a silly mix up. It turned out Dr. Holloway from the night before thought I was very sweet (way to work it, me) and he wanted the opinion of DOCTOR Tom McNicholas to find out if anything could be done. Apparently, Dr. McNicholas is … well, let’s just say he’s the best, and he knows a lot about fixing what’s broken.

Dr. McNicholas reviewed all the charts and graphs and stock reports and digital shiznitz and decided my back was broken. Surgery could possibly be done, but there was no guarantee that I would walk and the surgery would be very very difficult (and expensive). That’s when my angel, Anette, quickly stepped in and said, “Great! Let’s do it! We’ll start a gofundme for Blue. We’ll get the funds.” Anette is very convincing and she gets things done. That’s why I love having her on my side. Surgery was scheduled.

My back was so broken—so crunched to bits—that my first surgery took 5 hours! Think about what you can do in 5 hours. That’s practically a whole work day, for those of you a with job. For those of you without jobs, that’s 5 episodes of Ellen, or 10 episodes of Family Feud! The staff of First Coast Veterinary Specialists was working on my messed-up back for FIVE HOURS. Shew. I owe them a drink.

Out of surgery and on to healing up we go! At this time, I didn’t want to eat anything. I was feeling the pain, but still not letting anyone know. (But they knew. And I knew that they knew. And they knew that I knew that they knew.) Nothing smelled good and I was getting skinny. >>>
I think I mentioned before that Anette started hand-feeding me roasted chicken and that’s about all I would eat. For her to buy chicken meant she really loved me, because she loves all animals so much that she doesn’t ever eat them.

It was during this time that Anette started assembling my “team”. She reached out to Carolyn Edwards of Friends of Jacksonville Animals (FOJA) and they pledged to help with half the cost of my surgery—wuf wuf! (Thank you FOJA!) Anette then called her friend Amy to help start getting the word out about me. Amy called (or more likely texted, she hates talking on the phone) her friend Tyler to help start raising funds to pay for the rest of my surgery and future rehabilitation. I got my very own Facebook page so people could follow my progress and Tyler set a up a gofundme. So many generous people gave money even though they’ve never even met me! A community of love—I felt it all around me. That meant more than anything.So … where am I now? Well, you’d know if you were following my Facebook page, silly. Take a minute and do that now. Blue’s Miracle.

Anette put out a plea for someone to take me home from the clinic because she thought I was getting sad. Which is true. I’m a people pup. ENFJ. Social. I like cuddles, bro, don’t judge. Anette’s aforementioned friend, Amy, who had come to visit me at the clinic said I could come hang out at her house for the weekend. That was many many many bowls of food ago, so—I’m not great with time, but I’m loving this long weekend!

Also! I have wheels! Anette reached out to K9 Carts, which is a great organization, and they sent me a cart just my size. When not in my cart, I still pull myself around with my front two legs really super fast. I’m still working on remembering how to use them pesky back ones. I’m going to rehab at Veterinary Acupuncture and Wellness, which is sometimes fun (and, may I be frank? Sometimes not.) They have a water treadmill, which is pretty cool and I get lots of treats. They have a Dr. Jessie Burgess who is very smart and extremely beautiful—I may have a crush but don’t tell her, I’m working my angles. She does electro acupuncture and laser to help me heal and stimulate nerve function. I love every single staff member at VAW and look forward to going there. A huge thanks to owner, Dr. Jenna, for believing in me.

Can I tell you I’ve met the most gorgeous people throughout this experience? Yah, it’s been a real crap deal what happened to me, but the people I’ve met … almost makes it worth it. Constance the Pet Messenger did a psychic reading and she just seemed to know so much about me! Doryan Cawyer from Jade Paws comes to visit me quite often to do stretching, massage, and reiki. I get really excited to see her and always feel so wonderful during and after our sessions. I had a fantastic Christmas with another foster mom—Pam Davis! She was so kind to me while Amy was away. She got me my own stocking and let me play with her Alvin and Bubba. I loved hanging with them!

So many people have sent me toys and treats and belly bands and my friend Becky even bought me a cozy bed. I also have my own stylist—Custom Dog Bed Creations by Holly! She makes all my sexy collars. Salty Paws Healthy Pet Market has been SO GENEROUS to sponsor my food and CBD oil. They gave my foster mom a ton of samples so that I could pick what I liked.

There are just too many people to thank—but most importantly, I’d like to thank Dr. Tim Holloway and Dr. Tom McNicholas and all the staff at First Coast Veterinary Emergency for sparing my life. That’s not what normally happens in those situations.

Life can be kind of scary sometimes, since I don’t have a rescue backing me. I have my tribe, though, and they really take care of me! Now all I need is my own new family. Someone who believes in me and will let me cuddle with them whenever I want and will love me forever.

Thank you for letting me tell my story! I’m not giving up. There’s too much sweetness in life left to discover and too many wonderful people I need to meet! Walk on, my friends.

Much love & many little
hand licks,
Blue

ADOPT BLUE! He’s sweet, playful, and loves kids!

 

Blue is not with a rescue, but is surrounded by a community who helps care for him. See videos and follow his progress on facebook!
Want to show your love and support for Blue? Check out his fundraiser sticker and shirts!

Hü Poupe´d

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

by Anonymous

We’ve recently started using this adorable little french phrase in our home, Hü Poupe´d. I don’t expect you to be able to pronounce it—it’s ratha fancy-pants—but, roughly, it translates to “who pooped?” in English. I personally like to say it three times in a row, while looking at my suspects directly into their eyeballs. Surprisingly enough, in our house, the one who doesn’t look away is most often the one hü poupe´d (he’s a brazen bastard and uses the “But I’m paralyzed” card every. single. time.)

We don’t really need to ask this question. It’s always that same guy. We ask it, hoping for some sign of remorse, as he will stare back at me—through me really—as if to say, Yah, I did it and it was awesome. And guess what? In about three hours … gonna do it again. {shrug} Let me know if you wanna watch.

So … I mean … I’m not sure if you’ve ever allowed anyone to go number two in your home consistently, but if not, I’ll give you an insider’s perspective—it makes you feel downright disgusting. It makes you want to wash your feet sixteen times a day, that’s for sure, and it makes you not want to have Pastor Pat over for a nice lasagne dinner. {And diapers aren’t really a great option, for those of you with that suggestion.}

During a recent storm, I was looking for one of our pups who tends to be frightened, and I took a little look-see under my bed. That’s when life changed forever. I did find him there, curled up in his safe zone. Right next to a—well, let’s see—imagine the biggest turd you can think of. Go ahead and multiply it by two and add six. It was massive, it was impressive. Huh. I wonder how long that’s been there, I whispered out loud to no one. And then, crouched there, gazing under my bed at the silhouette of a massive turd … I wondered how I got here. Not knowing how long this thing has been under my bed?! That’s ludicrous. I’ve always known how long turds have been under my bed. When did this happen to me and is this how it’s just going to be from now on? How did I not smell it and am I still a good person? (It feels really good to talk about all this—my stinky little secret. Go ahead—tell all your perfect friends that Anonymous is absolutely hideous.)

Since starting to care for this dog who can’t help but accept—nay be proud of—what he can’t control, I’m begrudgingly learning the same. Ugh, life lessons are so dumb sometimes. I don’t like it. But I do like him. As part of our System of Containment, there is a garbage-bag-sized bag of dog poop on my front porch. You do what you gotta do. What of it? It keeps the peeping Toms from staying to long. (shrug)

I’ve come to realize the answer to my questions, following the discovery of MegaTurd (except how did I not smell it). This has happened to me because, as much as I may want to just take off in a jet plane some days, I’m not a deserter. I love my dogs through thick and thin; barf piles and endless mounds of poo-nami; even old age, I know that’s a crazy notion for some—yup, ‘til the end. So, accepting what I cannot immediately change, rest assured, I’ll invest in a super steamer and, yah. I do think I’ll check under the bed more often, too. •

Win a beach photoshoot with your dog!

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Have you ever woke up in the morning and said:
Gosh, I have lots of great blurry photos of my dog! They never sit still!

Golly, I have lots of photos of my dog, but none of us together!

Gee, I’d love to have a large piece of art made of my dog. There’s a perfect space right above my couch.

Daggum, I really want to do a photoshoot with my dog, but I don’t have the cash right now.

Well, shucks! We can help with all that. WIN a photo shoot with our awesome Snout Scout, powered by Woof Creative Photography.

We made it super easy to enter! You can get multiple entries, too!

  1.  Leave a shout out (review) for one or more of your favorite dog-friendly businesses here on unleashjax.com!
    Each recommendation is an entry.
  2. Alternatively, or for another entry, you can sucker one of your friends into signing up for our Woof’s Happening Loveletter with this link. They must put your name down as the one who suckered them and you’ll both be entered to win!
  3. Alternatively, or for another entry, leave a comment on this post, telling us a little about your dog and why they should win!

Winner will be announced next Tuesday, April 24 and must act ecstatic.

Good luck!

DUTY Thoughts, from George

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Welcome to the DOODY issue. I’m just going to come out and say it. Yah. I’ve decided not to go outside for number two any more. I’m old and I’m tired. Outside is far and dirty and I just don’t see the point.

{Errrrm … George … this issue is DUTY, not DOODY. Please don’t talk about your bathroom habits.}

What? How did I not know this? I’m still the editor, am I correct?

{Sometimes you sleep through staff meetings, George.}

I’m feeling multiple layers of embarrassment here. Let’s talk about this off record later, shall we? I have an image of prestige to uphold. Please accept my apologies for the earlier bathroom talk; I feel I was misinformed.

Unfortunately, I don’t know a whole lot about DUTY. I’ve never been called up to do much in my life except clean up kitchen spills—which I’m more than happy to do, by the way, especially ice cream. I’m very able-bodied when it comes to licking the floor. Beyond that, up until now, I’ve just been a super-handsome half-man half-dog with no oppressive responsibilities—carefree and untethered. I could hop a plane to Minnesota right now if I wanted to. Ack, but that seems super far and cold—and now that Prince is gone (RIP Prince), what’s the point of going to Minnesota? So I just kinda chill and hang, you know?

It does sound appealing to be needed, though. Really needed, not fake needed, like when people tell you you’re the editor but really you’re just a poster boy. People don’t even take the time to make sure I understand the focus of the issue, for crumps sakes. To have a mission where I could really help someone—that sounds very fulfilling! I do have several questions about having a duty, though. One: What if, on a particular day I’d just rather sleep? Is that allowed? Two: What is the pay? I’m saving for a new laptop. Three: Is it okay that I don’t walk very well, hear very well, see very well, and I have accidents in the house quite often?

If someone could get back to me with those answers, we can get the paperwork started. I’ll start packing my manbag in the meantime. I so look forward to being appreciated.

auf Wiedersehen, (that’s German)
GEORGE

PS … if you end up wanting to read the DUTY issue (I can’t personally advise it in good conscious, as I haven’t even read it yet), you can find it online here. Physical copies will be available all over Jacksonville shortly. You can find out where here and maybe camp out, like a Black Friday sitch. Now … where is that toiletry bag …

COVER REVEAL

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Meet our Unleash Jacksonville DUTY cover power team, Rob and Liberty Bell, and Rob’s wife, Carrie. They are a amazingly strong individuals working through every day as one.

“The night I got Liberty Bell I stuck a 45 in my mouth. I wanted a permanent solution. Now that I have Liberty in my life—the way she acts and responds to me—I no longer have that propensity.”

Robert is very passionate about invisible wound awareness. Over his 30-year Naval career, Robert suffered multiple TBIs (Traumatic Brain Injuries), and just by looks alone, you wouldn’t know Robert is a wounded warrior. Doctors haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly what’s causing his progressive debilitating symptoms, which adds to the frustration. “We didn’t do a great job in the ‘80s recognizing concussions and brain injuries, and there just isn’t enough awareness or funding for the 379,500+ service people who are now suffering. That has to change.”

Robert met Liberty Bell at a time when his symptoms started progressing and he was having seizures. His service dog, Gracie May, an amazing German Shepherd, was doing her final in-house training with What’s Up Dog Service Animal Training. Robert got to “borrow” a dog named Sasha (who was also being trained at What’s Up) while Gracie was away. During that time, Robert had three major seizures back to back. Sasha knew—she just instinctively knew. She immediately started taking care of Robert, nearly pushing his wife, Carrie, out of the way. Carrie was a little nervous, wondering what the dog was doing, but Sasha had the situation under control. She was trained for PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) and mobility assist, but she wasn’t trained for seizure response or detection. “Dogs either have the ability to detect seizures or they don’t. This isn’t a trainable task. Unfortunately, as awesome as she was, my Gracie didn’t have that capacity. And it’s what I came to need as my disability progressed. I didn’t want to re-assign Gracie. But I had to.” Carrie knew pretty much right away, “Sasha was perfect for Rob.”

Sasha became Liberty Bell.
“I re-named her Liberty Bell because she gave me liberty. She gave me confidence to go out and do new things. I did go out with Gracie, but always to the same places. With Liberty, I’m confident in new situations. Three years ago, I would’ve told you service dogs were bunk … just a way for people to take their pets out. But a dog who is trained to perform these specific tasks is actually an extension of that person—a prosthetic.”

There’s nowhere Liberty doesn’t go with Robert. “She sleeps in my bed. She goes to the shower, the bathroom, movies; she’s always on duty. While in Mayport for the trials, she even went on a Naval ship; up and down the ladders. They’d never had a dog on the ship!”

A passion to see people live free.
The Florida panhandle, where Carrie and Robert live, is home to the country’s most dense population of veterans with PTSD and TBIs. It’s also home to the second-highest populous of active duty military. “We have a lot of service dogs in our area.” Carrie and Robert have been working passionately in the last year to make it easier for service members to get the right dog. They work closely with the Pawsitive Love Foundation, which works to provide individuals and families the gift of freedom of access, independence, and the ability to live the most normal life possible. “Currently veterans can get a prescription for a dog and they have no idea how to “cash it in”. We’d like to see it get much easier.”

Educate so we can integrate.
Robert and Carrie also helped to pass the Pawsitive Love Bill—a pilot high school program that introduces students to service dogs, teaches them why we have service dogs, why they’re important, and how to act around them. “Our goal is to bring it to the elementary level. There is such a need to educate kids. There is a ton of service dogs coming, vets can’t stay locked in their houses, losing themselves. If we don’t train the next generation how to act around the dogs and their handlers, there will be plenty of situations that won’t be good. We need to set these veterans and their dogs up for success in society.”

Pawsitive Love Foundation
You can make a difference! Become an advocate for the simple freedom you enjoy every day. It takes funding to transport, house, train, support service dogs and their handlers. Share our mission with your friends! pawsitivelovefoundation.org

Atlantic Beach Commission approves ‘puppy mill’ ordinance!

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Great breaking news! Puppies and kittens will not be able to be sold in Atlantic Beach!

From the Atlantic Beach Website:

The City of Atlantic approved an ordinance Monday night banning the sale of puppies and kittens that come from large-scale commercial breeders. The law limits pet stores to selling animals from shelters, humane societies and rescue groups, with the goal of getting rid of puppy mills that churn out sick animals.

Here is the ordinance.

 

We miss you Polly Pocket!

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Polly Pocket was a Pit Sisters rescue. She came with a menagerie of medical problems, mostly caused by heart worms. We adopted her and sadly lost her just seven months later on December 19th. She changed our whole world and words cannot describe the pain we still feel over loosing her. God Speed Polly, no more suffering….. xo

~ Jennifer Bristow

 

Use kind, soft words. Practice love. When you’re needed, be there.

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

I could feel your eyes on me, humbly begging for my attention in the quietest way possible—with the stare. But like every morning, I was busy and preoccupied—and I was scrolling. Seeing things that made me desperately sad and wondering who would do these things—who would cut off a dog’s nose, or chain them to a tree in a blizzard, or surrender them as a senior, or bring them to boarding and never come back? WHO are these monsterpeople? What happened to them to make them this way?

I set the phone down and knelt down next to you. I focused on only you. I loved this moment with an audible sighhhhh. I thought about how much I love your face and the smell of your body—well, the front half smells pretty nice. You feel safe with me and nuzzle my neck to get cozy. I teared up into your fur for just a minute, praying for all the animals who’ve been hurt and those hurting even as we cuddled in bliss. I pulled you into me to the max of your threshold, an apology for all the things that you remember from your early years but aren’t allowed to tell me about. You’ve been sentenced to silence by some unfair law of nature. You can only give me little glimpses when I raise my hand too fast, or clap too loud while dancing around the kitchen, or walk toward you when you feel too vulnerable. You know what it’s like to be abused. You remember, but have cautiously moved on. All has been forgiven.

I ask you for answers—how do we fix this? How do we stop it from happening? How do we change people? You tell me give you more treats and to stop being distracted when you want me. You mention under your breath that a subscription to Bark Box would be nice. And you tell me to write.

Well, if you want me to write, I’m going to need better answers from you, I said, because I don’t know what to do, and giving you more treats isn’t going to help them. You cocked your head and burrowed into my neck as if trying to become part of me. Use kind, soft words. Practice love. When you’re needed, be there. And! Give yourself extra scoops of food. We will change the world, mama.

Well, okay then. That’s what you get when you ask a hound.

 

Ode to My Coopie Coop

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

We were told Cooper was probably going to die only several weeks after we had adopted him from the Birmingham Humane Society. He was a sick little 8-week puppy, and the vet wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong with my very first baby. We decided to take him on a road trip to the beach to give him a good couple of last days … and we hoped beyond hope he would pull on all his puppy strength and magically get better to live with us forever.

It seemed as soon as we put is tiny paws in the sand, that’s exactly what happened! He bounded over the hills of sand in a joyous puppy way. He played and got stronger the week we were there. We always said the ocean cured him.

Coopie Coop went everywhere with us. He would burrow under the covers at my feet every night and would come out panting like crazy in the morning when I would say “want to get up, Cooper?” He became my very best friend, and I relied on him as we first moved to Jacksonville and I had no friends.
He lived to be 10. The day came way too soon and I wasn’t prepared. 

I miss his sweet face, and his asking to be put up in the bed, (please mom?). I miss his disctinct smell and the way he would sing if I asked him to. I miss how he made me feel like the second most important thing in the world, after food.

I love Cooper in a way that is hard to express in human words, but anyone who has met their heart dog knows the joy and the pain. I can’t say there won’t be another heart dog, but I will never forget my first. My funny boy. I so wish I could take you to the ocean again.