I would like to believe that I am not so cynical to not believe in signs from above but this one, this one was so blatantly obvious that one could not help but NOT ignore it.
I lost my best friend, my light of my life, my “reason” on Monday 01/25/2021 and to say that I was handling it poorly was an understatement. I was on “autopilot”, masking my utter sadness and heartbreak behind a false smile and felt so incomplete that I felt would be permanent and just simply “who I was” from now on.
Until Monday 03/08/2021.
I heard commotion in my veterinary clinic I work for with my name coming up several times (which peaked my interest) as I saw a small crowd circling something … something tiny. I as made my way into the small group of women I saw him… meet Maxwell Walker (Maxwell after The Beatle’s song “Maxwell Silver Hammer”) an eight week old pug puppy (though the doctors suspect he may be younger) who is a “swimmer puppy”.
Swimmer Puppy Syndrome is a developmental deformity that results in a puppy having a flattened thorax/chest. They may have mobility issues that with physical therapy can be (for the most part) corrected it just takes a lot of patience and humility.
MeetMax:
Max will never replace Maggie ever and in fact he may be nothing like Maggie which I accept and understand also (I used to often joke that I wasn’t a “pug person” but I was an avid “Maggie person”) but I can only hope that somewhere tucked deep inside that tiny little pug puppy is a quality or two that Maggie had for so long – that patience, that calmness and most of all affection.
I know it will take time for Max to grow on me (frankly he’s creeping into my ❤️) and it will take even more time to work on getting him to use his back legs and be more mobile (without my assistance).
If you’ve been wondering why the site and our social media platforms went on a short, short sabbatical it’s because of this little dude. We’re working with him constantly as far as physical therapy, hydrotherapy, puzzles and exercise regularly (in addition to trying to potty train) as well as care for the other part of the crew has managed to occupy the rest of my day (happily of course!).
Please be patient with us as we work to find a happy medium between Maxwell and the rest of the day’s agendas — I promise we will return with gusto! Stay tuned folks!
Friends, it is hard these days to not turn on the TV or go online and be faced with sad, devastating images of the atrocities going on in Ukraine so in all of this bleakness we wanted to share with you some shimmers of light.
First off we want to be very clear in saying that we misfits stand with our friends in Ukraine and continue to send them love, prayers, compassion and support in any way that we can. Our hearts continue to break over the utter chaos and devastation that our friends (both two and four legged) are suffering in Ukraine.
Since this disruption for our friends in Ukraine we have gotten requests for carrier tags from not only Ukraine but also neighboring countries – all with the intent of giving them out so animals have a chance of being identified if they have a special ability but also leaving owners the ability to put their name and number on it in the event they are separated.
We continue to receive brief messages of families that are grateful for these carrier tags in a war torn area and several that were reunited with their handipet thanks to our carrier tags.
We even received an email from one pet parent that did not stray away from talking about cerebellar hypoplasia despite bombs going off in the distance. Friends we are in this together! We continue to show our support for Ukraine and we hope that you will also!
Often, we hear the age old “it’s just like riding a bike!” but I can say that if anyone is going to even hint at my life (especially with my husband and the “misfits”) being “like riding a bike” I will agree – only if that bike is on fire with one flat tire and someone sticks a crowbar into one of the wheels! But it is our hot mess, and we would not want it any other way – just like all of you and your very own adorable “misfits”.
A year ago, I can easily say my life was absolutely and dramatically different than it is today (I mean can’t we all agree on that when looking at our lives in the last year?). In that short year I lost the loves of my entire life Maggie & Roscoe, I left a job that I had adored but was burned out mentally and physically, all these ups and downs are happening so quickly and closely it is hard to not feel a bit of vertigo (and resist throwing up).
The first 48 hours together
The one thing that had changed and is an ongoing adventure is our very own Maxwell. A year ago, today while still at my former clinic a co-worker (who is now my best friend) approached me about a miserable client with this tiny pug puppy complaining that the doctor wanted x-rays and we were clearly “ripping her off” – the pug puppy came in to see the doctor for back leg paralysis.
Reluctantly the “owner” agreed to the x-rays and the images told such a story – dudes spine twisted and turned in ways unimaginable.
All sorts of jacked up!
The “owner” we found was actually a backyard breeder with no emotional connection nor empathy for the tiny pug who was the only one out of 10 puppies that had this condition.
The doctor and my best friend approached me in a joking manner and asked if I wanted a pug puppy. I briefly saw Maxwell in passing but did not pay him much mind, my heart was still hurting from losing Maggie Mae that January.
The doctor spoke to the woman about the small pug puppy and her concerns. The woman was agitated by the diagnosis, “I have already sold him! I took the deposit and everything!”
When the doctor explained her concerns again the woman was uninterested in the discussion, “I just need you to sign the form saying he is healthy so I can get him gone!” (I may have spared a few foul words in there).
By then the doctor was sensing the hostility in the woman and then asked if she would be interested in surrendering him to someone on the staff who is patient with these types of pets as well as a former pug owner.
Reluctantly the woman agreed to sign the small puppy owner to me only before remarking “if I was going to have to take him back home, I was going to drown him in the sink”
After that regardless of if I wanted another dog, regardless of if I was even ready, I knew this little guy was never ever going to go back to that woman ever again.
Agreeing to a puppy that an hour earlier I had no intentions of taking home I immediately called my husband who (to the shock of absolutely NO one) was not surprised that I had elected to take the broken lad home to our adorable misfits, or that I had refused to hand him back to the toxic woman that was breeding pugs for financial gain.
Surreal does not begin to explain those first 48 hours – I best explain it almost as if you had a baby but had no idea you were pregnant to begin with? We only had elderly dogs in the house and had never had a puppy together in the adorable house of misfits (let alone a handipup) so we were ill prepared at home to accommodate a puppy – let alone a puppy that we had no clue what exactly was wrong with him (aside from his spine being drunk). I would describe those first few days as walking like a newborn calf, but we made it work you know. We accepted the boy into our misfit crew and just like the goonies we never say die! So, in the thick and thin of it all we would figure it out (sometimes not so successfully)!
Honestly the first two weeks were rough for the small little pug (that I was calling “tater” at that time because he was no bigger than a baked potato) and myself because of many reasons – my mind and heart saw a pug and yearned for it to be Maggie and then I was sad yet resentful all over again and I could not help it, I was struggling to have an emotional connection with the tiny pup and that filled me with guilt, in addition to that we did not know exactly what his issues were at the time and were unaware of what he was capable of doing on his own or needed assistance with or for as morbid as it sounds we did not know on how borrowed of time we truly were with him so subconsciously we put up an emotional wall in a failed attempt to protect us from the inevitable (see how that worked out right?!) But again, just like riding a bike each day we did a little better, we all got a little stronger and we “trekked on” with caring for Max and his brothers.
We also at that time struggled because though he could pull himself around with his front legs, he seemed to leave a rather noticeable “snail trail” of urine behind him so for the sake of cleanliness (for him and for the environment) he had his own little pen that was actually ordered for a rabbit because he was still so small.
In that year I have learned a wealth of things both animal and non- animal related. Ever heard the saying “never piss upwind?” well as a 30 something female I never had that distinct pleasure until having Max.
Do not sweat the small shit because it is all small shit. – In one of Max’s early on baths he decided to gift me with some code browns while in the bath and as I held max dripping soapy wet over the tub wondering what I should do next all I could do was bust out laughing!
Also, as a follow up to above said advice, I now also have the honor of knowing what it is like to literally have someone pissing on my shoes all while giving me the saddest love eyes in a failed attempt to convince me that his perfection could never do such a thing and clearly it is raindrops.
The resilience of an animal (especially a young one like a puppy) is remarkable in so many ways! Maxwell enjoys taunting his brothers and especially loves the game when Bifford swishes his poof all around and max attempts to air chomp it (sometimes he connects, most times he does not because Bifford gives him the drunken angry pirate look and failed left hook).
With resiliency also comes extreme stubbornness – Maxwell receives at home physical therapy exercises (in hopes he may use one of his back legs someday) as well as water therapy and some days max looks more like a turd floating in a punch bowl than a dog committed to walking (I often joke it is one of the greatest tragedies in Maxer’s life that he cannot in fact, be carried and thus never have to use his legs ever again). So often we have a “standoff” to see who cracks first – full disclaimer it is usually me who cracks first, I am weak willed in some arenas and the handipets are on the top of that list (they also know this).
From now until the cows come home, we will forever get people telling us how sorry they feel for me/my family/max (one of the biggest offenders is my grandpa, despite loving max so much and gifting him with toys anytime he sees him) and that’s alright because you must learn to meet that with humor and a dash of education! I ALWAYS follow up whenever someone is lamenting how sorry they are with, “well, why do you feel sorry for me/us/him? What makes you feel sad?” Because from where I see it the little dude who is hand fed snacks, has a crib full of toys and a wait staff I am failing to see the downside for the dude (especially one that must put in zero effort to wiz).
Which leads me to this point, and I know it is like a broken record but be your pet’s OWN ADVOCATE! Your friends, your rescue, your veterinarian, and their team can all tell you what to do, their opinions and how to handle things but at the end of the day it is YOUR responsibility and decision! I will give you a great example: Maxwell had been in my life for a solid 6 months before we took him to the neurologist, by then we had a semi-firm idea of what to expect from him and how to best help him, we knew what was normal for him (he loves to huff and puff his lips especially when he is meeting new people or pouting) and what was not! So, when the neurologist came to me with major concern for Max’s overall quality of life because of the “way he would breathe” – it was alarming for someone who did not know max, but it was normal for those who see him daily. So, you can get instruction on what your vet would do but that is what THEY would do! Get a second opinion before making any rash decisions (but use good judgement).
Stay tuned for more Maxwell Misfit wisdom and the ongoing journey that is the adorable land of misfits!
Our adorable land of misfits suffered a devastating blow to our little family on Tuesday 01/25/2022 — we said goodbye to our beloved Roscoe and gently helped him over that rainbow bridge and now he is free of pain: free of the seizures, the medication, the crippling arthritis, the 12g bullet lodged in his hip — he is free of the physical ailments that this world can cause. I take comfort in knowing that Roscoe had his homecoming on that particular date — because it was the one year anniversary of when we said goodbye to Miss. Maggie Mae (in fact, Roscoe crossed the bridge about the same time Maggie Mae did a year prior) and I very much believe that Maggie was calling our sweet, tired Roscoe home with her.
Roscoe had a tumultuous start to his life — my husband had met Roscoe while camping during the warmer months and Roscoe was the “campground dog” who was personable and sweet (and also wanted to guilt trip you out of some snacks!) and it was assumed that someone owned him.
Until the campground had let it known to my husband that no one claimed to own Roscoe and they suspect he was dumped off there. The campground raised concerns that Roscoe was “rabid” because he would have “spells” (which with proper veterinary care we found Roscoe was NOT rabid but had a seizure disorder — just like me!) and stated that at the end of the summer season they would be putting Roscoe “out” (they were going to shoot him).
Now my husband (for anyone who may know him) is a burly, completely tattooed, rough-around-the-edges biker of a man — he can look and sound intimidating! He had grown fond of Roscoe over that summer and was on the fence about taking Roscoe home — until Roscoe jumped in my husband’s lap only then my husband begrudged that he would take Roscoe home for ONE weekend to see how it went… that was well over ten years ago.
When I started dating my husband back in 2012 I knew that just as Maggie and I were a package deal that Mike (my husband) and Roscoe were a packaged deal — I also knew the golden rule if the dog didn’t like you then that was it for dating (as you can see I think Roscoe liked me!) and was greeted by a bouncing, spunky little dog who I mistook for a “min-pin” (and my husband who almost looked offended that I would even CALL Roscoe that — corrected me that Roscoe is a rat terrier).
Over the years we would joke that Roscoe was a scappy fella during his years on the “lam” when he was roaming that campground – the tiny knick in his satellite size ears we would gently outline with love… Roscoe’s scars, his seizures — everything good and bad about Roscoe we loved genuinely and with our entire being and his absence with the rest of the adorable misfit toys is being felt with dramatic impact on us all.
Then years ago (circa 2017?) Roscoe began to badly limp so being concerned pet parents we took him to his doctor for xrays only to discover there was a small 12g bullet lodged in Roscoes back hip — the doctor knew it was an old wound (there was no sign of trauma or skin breaking) and felt that it was in Roscoe’s best interest at that time to NOT remove it (by then he was about 10-11 years old and his health with not recommended for surgery) and that he does not feel it but on those “arthritis days” it can be managed with medications — so I call my husband (who was international for a business trip at that time) to let him know the news and what was found.
Twenty minutes later I had half of the neighborhood calling and texting me letting me know that justice WILL be served for Roscoe and that we would find whoever put that bullet in his hip!
(My husband missed the huge part of our conversation about the bullet was OLD and suspected from his days at the campground)
But that was just the inspiration Roscoe had on people — the neighborhood, our family — me.
About the same time I met Roscoe (again about 2012) is also the time that I started having seizures myself. It is a scary, surreal feeling to be in your 20’s with never an issue of seizures before to wake up in the middle of a crowded lecture hall in college surrounded by EMT’s, police, faculty — to be perfectly honest with you I was not prepared for that barrier — it was scary! But Roscoe seemed to help comfort me — I know on more than one rough seizure episode I would groggily stir and ask Mike for “my Roscoe” because it was one of the few things that helped soothe my chaotic mind post-seizure.
Roscoe helped shape my career, helped kick off this campaign! Roscoe was there when we took him and Maggie on vacation to the mountains, all of the holidays, marriage , new “kids” — Roscoe was always there, a staple in our home.
I can easily say there will never be another dude as cool and amazing as Roscoe. Roscoe is the epitome of what we are trying to accomplish with our “campaign” — if Mike had not taken a chance on Roscoe (but let’s be honest, Roscoe already had stolen Mike’s heart by then!)– Roscoe who was roaming by himself at a campground, Roscoe who they believed was rabid but just needed his seizures under control, Roscoe who had a bullet lodged in his hip because someone tried to shoot him — Roscoe was an older black colored dog (which unfortunately are all strikes against him).
We will forever be advocates for dudes like Roscoe. We want to be the voices for the misunderstood — whether they are neurologic, maybe not aesthetically pleasing, missing limbs or vision — they are ALL worthy of love, the safe haven of a home of their own and a family that will be patient with them and be an advocate or ally for them.
So in honor of Roscoe we are all asking if you please take a chance on a less-adoptable pet (whether they are in a shelter, foster program, or homeless), donate to your local dog pound or shelter, “pay-it-forward” to a handipet, rescue or other animal program.
NYE – a time for people to come together and reflect on the past year while making resolutions for the fresh new year ahead but sometimes it can be emotionally exhausting for some (especially those overly empathetic or sensitive like I am!).
Needless to say the last few months have been a surreal experience – Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s… where this year the memories will be different, despite my best efforts to remain inside the comfort of habit of the holidays come and gone I am forced to accept change and must endure the vacuum inside my heart … suffering in waves the sorrow and loss of my heart and soul – Maggie Mae.
I did know know what a “heart pet” was until I started working in the veterinary field — for those of you not familiar with the term a “heart pet” is something of a “soul mate” (but for four legs not two!) and simply a term that has coined an animal that has left such a profound effect on your life in ways you never thought imaginable.
Now, I get e-mails all of the time, “but Suzi what about the rest of the land of adorable misfits at your house?”
I love every single one of my “adorable misfits” and they enrich my life and fill my heart with love that overflows but they aren’t Maggie.
Maggie who was there when I turned 18 years old – so confident that since I was officially an “adult” (insert giggles here) and knew everything there was to know about “adulting” (again insert giggles here).
Maggie who was there when I moved into my first house – who we huddled together on the nights the old furnace didn’t keep us completely warm, or the summer days that were too hot but despite that Maggie always needed to be touching me (or on those real hot days “peel” was a more correct term).
Maggie who was there when I turned 21. Who was there when I experienced my first major break-up, Maggie who gave us the strength to uproot and leave a toxic, abusive relationship.
Maggie who was there when I got married. Who was there when I turned 30.
For every photo with Santa (and the Easter bunny!), for every halloween costume, every St. Patrick’s day we dyed her green (non-toxic of course!), for every Christmas that we carefully laid her stocking out to be filled with gifts and snacks or every New Years Eve that Maggie was the first kiss of the New Year.
You get comfortable — they are there for all of the milestones and in your mind and heart you convince yourself they will always be there.
Until one day they are not.
And then you feel like you are lost and standing in the middle of an open field and it is just a whirlwind of emotions.
And for every storm there comes a rainbow! For as much as I was mourn and miss my holiday traditions with Maggie Mae … I am starting brand new traditions with Maxwell.
Happy New Year Friends! Just like all of you I am sure that 2021 was full of highs and lows, dips, stomach dropping adventures — but we made it! Here is to hoping we all have a happy, healthy & prosperous new year!
A very special THANK YOU to our friends over at Meow as Fluff for showing off another beloved favorite in our adorable house of misfits — Bart! You can check our pal Caitlin and the rest of the Meow as Fluff family by going here.
When Suzi Langer’s friend, who was working at a veterinary hospital near her home in Youngstown, Ohio, told her about Taloola and Bart, a pair of sick kittens who had recently arrived at the clinic, she and her husband Michael volunteered to foster them. “A good Samaritan found these two kittens alone with severe upper respiratory infections — a female calico and a domestic short-haired black male, about 12 weeks old,” remembers Suzi. Sadly, Bart’s upper respiratory infection was so severe and had gone untreated for so long, his left eye had ruptured and his right eye had suffered severe corneal scarring, leaving him only able to see light and shapes.
The black kitten also had a broken back leg, most likely due to being attacked by another animal before he was rescued, and he had a hernia that required treatment. While a lot of people might have been reluctant to foster a cat with so many different medical issues, Suzi and Michael had three special needs pets at the time — including a Rat Terrier with epilepsy, a deaf Pug with bladder cancer, and a cat with cerebellar hypoplasia — so they welcomed Bart and his sister Taloola into their home in July 2017. “Bart was — at best — leery of people,” says Suzi, so after he was neutered and had his hernia repaired and his ruptured eye removed, she and her husband gave the skittish black cat plenty of time and space to adjust to his new environment. “For the first few months Bart was a ghost in our home — his presence lingered but you never saw him.”
Over time, Bart eventually started to trust his foster parents, but in November 2017, Suzi learned the veterinary clinic would no longer be providing him with free medical care, claiming he was a financial risk. “I knew what that meant,” says Suzi. “He was a not nice, not really cute, extremely shy black cat with vision issues. In their eyes he was the least desirable cat to anyone and thus not worthy of proper medical attention.”
Suzi knew Bart needed an advocate who would make sure he received the care and treatment he deserved, so she and her husband adopted him! Shortly after adopting Bart, Suzi, who works at a vet’s office, had her employer remove a piece of gauze that had been accidentally left behind by the previous vet when he had his left eye removed. “They reopened his eye to remove the offending material and flush it out,” explains Suzi, “and ever since then Bart has not had any issues with sneezing or constant discharge.”
Nearly four years later, Bart is in good health, and while he’s unable to see very well, he’s an extremely active cat! In fact, this handsome one-eyed cat loves racing around his home, but because of his vision issues, Suzi and Michael try not to change the layout of their house. “Every so often when Bart is rushing about he will run into things,” says Suzi, “and we make it a courteous point to not rearrange the furniture.”
While Bart is much healthier today than he was when he first arrived at Suzi and Michael’s home, the biggest change has been in his personality. Initially, Bart, who had a difficult life on the streets before he was rescued, was easily frightened and incredibly shy, but over the past few years, he has blossomed in his forever home. “We gave Bart his space and slowly but surely he began to trust us,” says Suzi, “and now he is the most cuddly, sweet, affectionate and ornery little boy — and we wouldn’t have it any other way!”
By sharing Bart’s story, Suzi hopes other people will consider fostering and adopting cats who are often overlooked for a variety of factors, including age, appearance, temperament, and health issues. Even though they might take a little more time and energy, Suzi believes special cats like Bart are definitely worth the extra effort! “If we would have given up on Bart early on we would have never been introduced to his bubbly amazing personality that came later on with his confidence after finally feeling better,” explains Suzi.
When Suzi and her husband offered to foster Bart more than four years ago, they only planned to care for him until he was healthy enough to find a forever home. However, after just a matter of months, they knew Bart was meant to spend his life with them, and now Suzi and Michael can’t imagine their family without this special boy. “Bart has evened our home out in such a beautiful and poetic way,” says Suzi. “He is affectionate, adventurous, clown-like and never passes up the opportunity to ‘give up the belly,’ which is his way of showing his love and affection to us!”
