Miniature Schnauzer Rescue of Houston

SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I’m a very good girl who loves to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cozy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. I’ll be at the front door when you get home from work wearing only what nature gave me. Call (713) 433-6421 and ask for Gigi, I’ll be waiting. …..

Think of all the men who found themselves talking to the Houston Humane Society!!

HERE IN THIS HOUSE

I will never know the loneliness I hear in the barks of the other dogs ‘out there.’
I can sleep soundly, assured that when I wake my world will not have changed.
I will never know hunger, or the fear of not knowing if I’ll eat.
I will not shiver in the cold, or grow weary from the heat.
I will feel the sun’s heat, and the rain’s coolness, and be allowed
to smell all that can reach my nose.
My fur will shine, and never be dirty or matted.

Here in this house…
There will be an effort to communicate with me on my level.
I will be talked to and, even if I don’t understand, I can enjoy the warmth of the words.
I will be given a name so that I may know who I am among many.
My name will be used in joy, and I will love the sound of it!

Here in this house…
I will never be a substitute for anything I am not.
I will never be used to improve peoples’ images of themselves.
I will be loved because I am who I am, not someone’s idea of who I should be.
I will never suffer for someone’s anger, impatience, or stupidity.
I will be taught all the things I need to know to be loved by all.
If I do not learn my lessons well, they will look to my teacher for blame.

Here in this house…
I can trust arms that hold, hands that touch…
knowing that, no matter what they do, they do it for the good of me.
If I am ill, I will be doctored.
If scared, I will be calmed.
If sad, I will be cheered.
No matter what I look like, I will be considered beautiful and thought to be of value.
I will never be cast out because I am too old, too ill, too unruly, or not cute enough.
My life is a responsibility, and not an afterthought.
I will learn that humans can almost, sometimes, be as kind and as fair as dogs.

Here in this house…
I will belong.
I will be home.

LIKE ALL THE OTHER KIDS

by Laura Kelley

 My first Schnauzer, Syd, had been owned by a family with kids before he came into my life.  At age 8, he got lost and somehow ended up running into my downtown office.  When I finally found out who his owners were, they told me they didn’t want him back, saying he didn’t like their small kids.

 I had no children, and was delighted to have such a sweet little dog.  I soon found out there had been some parts of living with children that Syd had liked, though.  One afternoon while out for a walk, he began pulling me as hard as he could, which was unusual for gentle little Syd.  I let him lead, and he would turn right at one corner, left at another, and clearly had some purpose.

 I never connected his behavior with the distant jingle of ice cream truck music until we turned down the street it was on, and he made a bee line for it.  I bought him a popsicle, and he was delighted.

 Eventually the ice cream truck started coming through our apartment complex’s driveway.  Syd always heard it in plenty of time to let me know, so I could get my money ready and his leash on, and we’d go out and line up with all the other “kids” to get his popsicle.  He seemed to have no idea he wasn’t one of them.  The children thought it was hysterical and would offer him a lick of theirs, to the horror of their parents.  In the aftermath, other moms would be wiping sticky little hands and faces, and I’d be wiping Syd’s beard.

 In time, I adopted two more Schnauzers and bought a house. The others learned the routine from him, and I’d have three little bearded faces pressed against the fence when the familiar refrains sounded through the streets of our new neighborhood.  Since he was my first, I always let him be the one to go out to the street with me to get the treat to be shared.  This was our afternoon routine for the next nine summers.

 Syd died at the age of 17, in late September, after the ice cream truck season had ended.  The first time the ice cream truck jingled down the street the next spring, I reflexively reached into my pocket, praying I had the cash to get Syd his ice cream.  Then I sat down on the steps and sobbed when it hit me that he wasn’t there.  In a neighborhood of mainly older folks and young, as-yet childless couples, the ice cream trucks must not do well.  Their popsicles are overpriced, often freezer-burned.  Some of the neighbors complain about the volume of the music and the speeds at which they drive.

 But that tinny music warms my heart, because I can see Syd sitting at the door, eagerly waiting to line up for his afternoon treat with all the other kids.

Excerpts From A Dog’s Diary

  8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
  9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
  9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Lunch! My favorite thing!
  1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
  3:00 pm – Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
  5:00 pm – Milk Bones! My favorite thing!
  7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
  8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed!  My favorite thing!

Excerpts From A Cat’s Diary

Day 983 of my captivity…..

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.  They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.   In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet.  I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of.  However, they merely made condescending comments about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight.  I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.  However, I could hear the noises and smell the food.  I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of ‘allergies.’  I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking.  I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.  The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return.  He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant.  I observe him communicating with the guards regularly.  I am certain that he reports my every move.  My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.  For now……………..

Austin was very charming. That’s what sold Jack Martin when he was considering adopting a dog from MSRH in mid-January 2007. Jack, who had put his 15-year-old miniature schnauzer to sleep three weeks before, was instantly smitten when 6-year-old Austin appeared and gave a warm greeting. Austin’s instant offering of affection proved to be winning not only for Jack, but also for Jack’s wife, Betty. Jack took Austin to the nursing home where Betty, who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, lived in order to introduce the two. Betty thought Austin was very sweet and offered to let him stay with her in her “hotel” room. For more on Austin ’s impact on Jack and Betty, go to  http://www.healthcentral.com/alzheimers/c/42/3432/austin-dog

Written by Dorian Martin (daughter of Jack Martin);  Used with permission.

  .

 Taking care of rescue dogs

Is something I do best.

I know because I’ve done it,

And I’ve surely passed the test.

The dogs I’ve bathed, the food I’ve fed,

The vacuuming I’ve done,

And all to watch a frightened soul

Sit dreaming in the sun.

My own dogs I’ve neglected,

But I tell them everyday

That I love and cherish each of them

Though a new dog’s come to stay.

I know they understand this,

For in their eyes I see

The love that I have given them

Come shinning back at me.

Some people think I’m crazy,

Some others think I’m great.

But very few can understand

What really is at stake.

If I can love and help a dog

To find a better way,

My own life is much richer and

I look forward to each new day.

So now you know my secret,

It’s there for all to see,

The love I give, the life I save,

I did it all for me.

I rescued a human today.

Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels. I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her.  I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn’t be afraid.

As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage. I didn’t want her to know that I hadn’t been walked today. Sometimes the shelter keepers get too busy and I didn’t want her to think poorly of them. 

The first thing you discover when you bring a Schnauzer onto your bed is the striking difference in weight between an alert, awake Schnauzer and a Schnauzer at rest or deep in slumber.

Rule Number One:  The deeper the sleep the heavier the Schnauzer.  Most people who sleep with Schnauzers develop spinal deformities rather than rent the heavy equipment necessary to move their snoring canines to a more appropriate part of the bed.  Cunning canines steal precious space in tiny increments until they have achieved the center position on the bed – with all covers carefully tucked under them for safekeeping.  The stretch and roll method is very effective in gaining territory.  Less subtle tactics are sometimes preferred.  A jealous Schnauzer can worm his way between a sleeping couple and with the proper spring action from all four legs shove a sleeping human to the floor.

Rule Number Two:  Schnauzers possess superhuman strength while on a bed.  As you cling to the edge of the bed, wishing you had covers, your sweet pup begins to snore at a volume you would not have thought possible.  Once that quiets down, the Schnauzer dreams begin.  Yipping, growling, running, kicking.  Your bed becomes a battlefield and playground of canine fantasy.  It starts out with a bit of “sleep running”, lots of eye movement and then, suddenly, a shrieking howl blasted through the night like a banshee wail.  The horror of this wake-up call haunts you for years.  It’s particularly devastating when your pup insists on sleeping curled around your head like a demented Daniel Boone cap.

Rule Number Three:  The deeper the sleep, the louder the Schnauzer.  The night creeps on and you fall asleep in the 3 inches of bed not claimed by a Schnauzer.  The Schnauzer dreams quiet slightly and the heap of dog flesh sleeps breathing heavily and passing wind.  Then, too soon, it’s dawn and the heap stirs.  Each Schnauzer has a distinctive and unpleasant method of waking the pack.  One may position itself centimeters from a face and stare until you wake.  The clever Schnauzer obtains excellent results by simply sneezing on your face, or they could romp all over your sleeping bodies – or the ever-loving insertion of a tongue in an unsuspecting ear.

Rule Number Four:  When the Schnauzer wakes – you wake. 

So, why do we put up with all this?  There’s no sane reason.  Perhaps it’s just that we’re a pack and a pack heaps together at night – safe, contented, heavy and loud.  Sweet dreams to all you Schnauzer lovers! 

 Bushy, flowing moustache,

With eyes that pierce your heart

Protective and intelligent – A friend right from the start.

A dog who loves to romp and play, so spirited and fun,

Yet always there to listen

To your cares when day is done.

A charming disposition – Affectionate and sweet

A Schnauzer shares my world each day,

And makes my life complete.