Category Archives: My Dog Bios

Phoebe. And Hadley.

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Phoebe and Hadley

A few months ago we decided to try and find a friend for our dog Stella. If you recall from the post about adopting her, I said she’s a star. And she’s still a star, but she’s become quite a pudgy star and our other dogs just aren’t interested in hours of playtime with her. You know, that nonstop young dog play that’s often ridiculous but necessary. George, after all, is about fifteen now. Sally only wants to stare at rabbits. And Chappie would still rather close himself in the bathroom for his quiet time. In fact, recently my husband quipped that Chappie is the dog equivalent of Walter Matthau and I would agree.

It’s always nerve wracking and gut-wrenching when trying to choose a new dog, hoping to get the “right” one. And there are other things, like telling people that you’ve gotten another dog. Or, in this case two new dogs, which puts us at six. And the only people with six dogs are crazy people or celebrities or crazy celebrities. I haven’t even told my mom yet, because when she learned I’d adopted Stella she whacked me with her cane in front of everyone on Thanksgiving at my sister’s house. And while she’s no longer using a cane, there’s always a wooden spoon nearby.

I began by looking at Facebook posts of dogs in shelters that were running out of time. There are so many high kill shelters so that’s where I target. Eventually I settled on a litter of 6-month-old puppies that were kind of German Shepherd/Husky-ish and I was having a difficult time choosing between a brother and sister. I drove the three hours to the place, warning my husband in advance that I probably will come back with both of them. When I arrived and met them I thought they were very sweet but also very subdued, even in the outdoor play area. But also we just didn’t connect. The shelter director informed me that a local rescue group had just committed to pulling the whole litter so if I didn’t take them they would still be okay. When I told her that I was really looking for a playmate for Stella she offered to show me a 7-month-old female smooth-coat Collie mix who had been dumped the week before because she had “too much energy”. A minute later her assistant burst through the door with this crazy thing that was more thoroughbred than dog.

At first I thought no way, she’ll knock poor old George off his feet. But then I watched her jolly up the timid female I’d been considering, she seemed to be saying “you WILL play with me!” and it worked. Her enthusiasm was infectious, her spirit couldn’t be contained, even after being abandoned by her owners and spending time in a chaotic shelter. Right then I just had a very strong feeling come over me that yes, this was the one.

And we were off.

Phoebe leaves the high kill shelter

Since then, we’ve found out that Phoebe is a very smart girl and she loves to talk. She also loves playing the squirt game with the hose. Yes she has lots of energy, and that’s just fine with us. And with Stella.

Phoebe and the water hose

So remember I only wanted one dog but figured I’d end up with two? A few days after adopting Phoebe, my husband was on his way home when he spotted a scrawny tick-infested puppy that had been dumped and was desperately chasing cars. Meet Hadley.

Hadley the pup in the catbed

Life has a funny way of working out, that’s for sure. And it doesn’t take long to reach the point of not being able to imagine life without the new additions, I guess that’s when you know they’re really part of the family.

Phoebe, Hadley, Stella

Erica Preo is CEO & Creative Director of Pantofola, pure luxury Italian goods for dogs.

Stella is a Star

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Our Girl Stella

World, meet Stella. Lei è una stella, she’s a star. And if you read my last post, she might seem a little bit familiar to you. They called her Fern, this little one. They couldn’t understand how she’d been overlooked, why no one came to rescue her. But there are too many, they keep coming, the clock keeps ticking. Her time was running out and before I knew it, I’d dialed the shelter to say she will have a home. Our home.

It’s nerve-wracking when deciding to adopt a new dog. Especially when you haven’t even met the dog in person, you’re flying completely by instinct. But one thing I did know: I wouldn’t let her die, no way would that happen. Yes, the risk would be taken. She hadn’t been given the chance to live yet, and that’s just not acceptable. Not enough days in the sunshine, maybe none snoozing in front of a toasty fire, and I’m pretty sure no time at all spent frolicking on any beaches. And what about nicknames—which all dogs must acquire, in addition to the requisite sing-songs and ditties that are made up one day at a time. Those things hadn’t happened yet for her. So, no. No dying, only living.

Stella's Freedom Snooze

On the long drive home, she insisted on snoozing on my lap and I could tell she was really thankful. But I was also thankful that I’d been given the chance to save her. And thankful to this shelter, and all of the shelters, and all of the foster homes that provide safe haven for these guys that society has neglected and discarded. These people do an incredible job, the elaborate networks they’ve built on Facebook and everywhere else, giving their time and resources and love. It’s 24 hours a day, and it never slows down. This Thanksgiving I’m thinking of these people and hope they know how much their difficult and often heartbreaking work makes the world a better place. One adoption at a time.

Stella Snoozes with George and Chappie

Stella says she agrees, but for now she’s getting some rest with her new dog family. After all, she knows she’s got a lot of nicknames to learn and some serious catching up to do. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

And here is a super list of 10 dog-related things to be thankful for by The Bark Magazine. Enjoy, and no calories!

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Erica Preo is CEO & Creative Director of Pantofola, pure luxury Italian goods for dogs.

Sally and International Homeless Pets Day

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My dog Sally

This is my dog Sally, often referred to as Sal. Another “mystery mix”, her face and legs feel like velvet but the rest of her feels prickly like strands of steel wool. Her ears are huge and her tail is a lot like Pluto’s or maybe a stingray’s. In a house full of boys she’s my only girl dog, so I should probably refrain from calling her Sal and reinforce what few girly aspects she does have, but she’s just not into it. The only time she ever “works it” is when my husband comes home, and then look out. It’s all wiggling and wagging and shameless flirting and good grief. I never get a reception like that…what is it about girl dogs? They can really lay it on thick when they want to!

She is a pretty good dog, she even came to work with me for two weeks one summer at the San Francisco office of Pentagram and made lots of friends. But most of the time Sally’s big thing is squirrels. She can and will sit completely still for hours observing and studying every little squirrel twitch. Her other big thing is the “freedom run”, leash or not. On several occasions while out for a run I’ve gone flying when a squirrel zips across the road in front of us. As a result, I’m convinced my right arm is now at least a few inches longer.

My dog Sally in puppyhood and today

Sally’s always been a pretty happy-go-lucky gal, but things didn’t start out so great for her. They could have been really disastrous: a woman drove her giant Cadillac into a gas station on the corner of a busy intersection, barely slowing down as she opened the door and threw out what appeared to be a black sweater. Except this black sweater was a puppy that picked itself up and started running frantically for its life. Luckily she was rescued before being hit by a car.

So in honor of Sally who did make it, I’m going to light a candle tomorrow on International Homeless Pets Day for all the dogs who don’t make it, or are right now on that hairline verge. For all the dogs who are put into precarious situations all over the world by rotten women in giant Cadillacs at busy intersections and every other horribly cruel individual. And I’m hoping that like that black sweater, they can all get up and run.

George

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George

Meet George. This is one of my favorite photos of Georgie boy, even if it is just a Polaroid from his photo shoot with Amanda Jones a few years ago. There’s a strange rule of photo shoots that dictates the best shot of the session will be from a grainy Polaroid. So while there were many great shots that day, I love this one the most.

George is a dog who is mostly made of Rottweiler material. He has the kooky brown dots above his eyes that jump around, and the typical black and brown fur thing going on. But his fur is a bit longer and silkier, his ears are a bit larger, and he got to keep his tail. Hooray! There are some other things about George that are even more unique, like a great Darth Vader impersonation. He’s a lovable fellow, and he especially loves you if you have food. Any food. In fact, he loves food so much that he can hear the tiniest crinkle of the smallest piece of cellophane and he comes running. Besides that, he’s all about living the good life of snoozing. And snoring.

The story of George’s arrival began one beautiful spring morning. As I stood washing dishes and looking out the window, I saw a dog suddenly appear in my yard. Oh no, I already have four. A fence panel had been taken down for a truckload of dirt that was delivered. Please go home, cute dog. I went outside with hands on my hips, determined to nip this in the bud. As I stood there, staring down at him and telling him that he needed to go back home, in a flash he’d jumped up to greet me, hitting me in the face and knocking off my sunglasses. This isn’t working. I went back inside and decided to ignore him. He left. He came back. He carefully chose a spot in the soft grass, in the shade. Ahhh, this looks good. And he stayed.

George in four photos

He had a collar, but no tag. I made signs and posted them around, asked the neighbors, checked with the shelters. Nothing. In Oakland at that time they would keep strays for only 3 days so unless someone came looking for him, he would be euthanized. No one was looking for him. After a few months, I bumped into some other people a few streets over with a dog of the same age that looked just like George—and they had also named him George. Hmm. Maybe George’s dad was a dog named George Foreman, and now just like with the real George Foreman, there are five offspring all named George. You never know.

Chappie

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My dog Chappie in the snow

This is my dog Chappie. I’m not really sure what kind of a dog he is, but I usually just say “white shepherd” and that gets us through. Because what else would I say? He’s the kind of dog that’s terrified of thunderstorms? The kind that insists on sleeping in the guest bathroom, and closes the door for privacy? A micromanager of our daily routine, with a built-in clock so he knows exactly when it’s time for treats, dinner and last call? Snaps at bumblebees and would rather be indoors? Chappie is also the dog who refused to befriend Finn, if you happened to read my inaugural post. He’s pretty eccentric, that’s for sure. Just like with people, I suppose there’s a reason for it. Something that was stamped onto his psyche before I met him. But he’s a sweet boy and a good soul, a very tender heart.

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, I had a café and it was located in an historic building on Main Street USA. The shop had a great bay window, and being a designer (and not at all someone who wanted a café) I used to dream up different themes for this window and would devote lots of time decorating it. Now in this small town, my café became a daily stop for regulars (and oddly, occasionally a stop for Lawrence Eagleburger and that rotten senator that ended his career by calling someone macaca). Eventually I got to know the head of the county animal shelter who would come in for coffee each morning. One day she remarked that the new shelter was open, but no one knew and so I decided to dedicate the window to this cause. I visited the shelter and photographed all of the dogs and cats and puppies and kittens, framed them and hung them in this window with their names. Traffic picked up at the shelter and adoptions took off, hooray!

Of course, one polar-bear-looking puppy in particular struck me as extra-special, darn it. And so as a parting gift, my friend gave me this little guy who became Chappie. His story: animal control officers had received a tip to investigate a home and when they arrived they found an adult female dog tied to a tree and she was pretty vicious. This dog, Chappie’s mother, had been tied for so long that the rope had grown into her flesh. She attacked one officer and was shot and killed on the spot. Chappie and his 3 brothers were found behind a shed, they were covered in goat poop. Definitely a sad beginning for him, but he’s a resilient little chappie and he makes every day better. Now excuse me, while I go let him out of the bathroom.

Chappie photos

Erica Preo is CEO & Creative Director of Pantofola, pure luxury Italian goods for dogs.

Black and white photo above by Amanda Jones.