Hi, friends -

I've given you the same basic Dog Jog pitch over and over for years now, and usually it begins with an apology for getting such a late start, leaving little time to secure commitments for this cause that means so very much to me. But this year, I have really good excuses! Medical issues for Bristol and London have been an ongoing struggle. (Geneva says hi - and I'm fine!) London's vision loss has progressed; we've begun to practice with a navigation halo so that he's used to it when he loses his vision entirely. At the moment, he's looking especially punky from a current bout of pneumonia. Bristol has now been with us a year, and we are still diligently fighting the infections and inflammations that have compromised her skin. One of the things that is exhausting about her care is that baths are required every other day. So it was extra extra daunting when a (thankfully quickly contained) house fire a few weeks ago destroyed our only bathroom. 

Lest this sound like just a bunch of complaining, I'm so very grateful that neighbors broke into the house and got my dogs out before I arrived shortly thereafter. And I'm very grateful that in all of this tedious medical madness, FOP has helped support their care as part of the sanctuary program. 

We all needed a breather, so I took a couple weeks off work - a rare event indeed - and we've been doing long-overdue home chores, working in the garden, organizing repair contractors and insurance, getting my chronically painful back and neck some treatment relief. Just a chance to catch up on life a bit. And while I was sorting out some boxes of papers, I ran across a brochure that I wrote many years ago for FOP. In rereading it, I reflected on the intricacy of a small corps of volunteers working in concert, each for our own compelling reasons that  call us to action.

If you'll indulge the fact that this was written in the winter season, I'd like to share one part of "Coming In From the Cold" with you.

On a frigid night in Anchorage, a small gray tabby gives birth to five kittens. In miserable subzero conditions, she struggles to care for them in the same abandoned lot where she herself was born only seven months before. There is no other life she knows.

Somewhere across town, a lanky shepherd mix is brought inside because the weather forecaster said 'it's too cold out there for your pets.' Once off his chain, it's hard to contain his energy as he's pulled inside by the 12-year-old who promised to take care of him every day...but that was two years ago. Inside the airline kennel, his tail thumps quietly as the garage goes black. There is no other life he knows.

We live among them, and we see their need. And together we take action. We show you the faces of the unwanted, and you open your homes. We tell you their stories, and you send us the money and the encouragement to write the next happy ending. We beg your compassion, and you respond with abundance. 

But it all begins in the eyes of one animal, and the softening of our own eyes in recognition of its need. And one more is brought in from the cold. 

There is no other life we know.

---

Peg, Geneva, London and Bristol
and all the ones who have gone before