If My Friends Could See Me Now.

     Sometimes, when you least expect it, something comes along and changes everything.
     When we left our house that morning to take our reluctant teen clothes shopping, how could I have known that our lives would be forever changed?
    Pulling into the parking space at Tilly's, we saw a pet adoption event next door at Petco.
The agency Dog Rescue Without Borders was there with a baby corral full of adoptable dogs.
Knowing better, we stopped to look. 
      Our family was waiting for just the right time to adopt our next rescue dog. We felt Cody, almost 6, was secure and mature enough to raise a younger sibling properly. We knew exactly what we wanted (thank you Pinterest), a yellow lab puppy. We had been poking around, researching other adoption agencies in the months prior.
     As luck would have it, there he was; a gorgeous male yellow lab puppy. I picked him up and held him as my husband, son and I discussed the possibility of bringing this handsome young fellow home. Thankfully, we all agreed it was time.
Excitedly I told the lady "we'll take him!"
     Sadly, it was not to be -- another family had just finalized his adoption process-- game over.
Drama ensued and tears fell as my husband pulled us away and into the store. I felt I had bonded, which he felt was ridiculous, but in a way I had -- just not with the male puppy.
     When we finished shopping, I stopped to talk to the Dog Rescue Without Borders ladies and asked if there were others? We felt their yellow lab puppy was exactly what we were looking for. She thought about it and said, "if you are serious, there is a sister, but she is set to transfer to another agency tomorrow."
     My husband and son both rolled their eyes at the mention of a GIRL dog. Not me -- quite the opposite, I am surrounded by boys in our family. Even our bearded dragon Cupcake turned out to be a boy!
    She said she would talk to her partner and do some checking -- but no promises. We asked her to text  a picture of the little girl. Then we waited. And waited. And waited. Time was standing still --  I swear it! Finally it came, the picture of the male lab puppy's sister.


Foster home picture

     There she was -- kind of pitiful really, with her scared little apple-shaped, stress face. We filled out an application for adoption and several phone calls took place discussing the girl dog's future. She wasn't ready to adopt, and hadn't been spayed, but in the end they allowed us to adopt her with the promise we would take her to be fixed when she was of age. She said we could pick up the little girl puppy the next day! Countdown to crazy.
     We had only hours to prepare for the new baby Sissy. We rushed around buying toys, a bed and puppy food. We did our best to prepare our other dog for a new baby sister.

     Arriving early, I was a hot mess; tears streaming down my face clutching her brand new empty collar and leash, stressed out and excited all at the same time, to meet our new addition. We placed her new dog bed and a stuffed purple Cleo doll on the back seat to comfort her for the journey to her new home.


First time we met

     At first glimpse she looked so timid and tiny; her tail tucked all the way between her legs and she shook like a freezing cold Chihuahua. She was a lot smaller than the brother and I immediately worried  our Cody might crush her. Before I veered off with fear, I picked her up and was met with an extremely sloppy first kiss.
     She came with paperwork, medical records (all in Spanish) and a no questions asked return policy. (As if!) Elsa was available every step of the way and very thorough with her instructions. DRWB spays and neuters all of their dogs prior to adoption and in our rare circumstance with Shelby, we signed a contract agreeing to take that important step in responsible adoption.

 I named her Shelby "Sissy" Rudge and she was decidedly all mine. (just ask me).

I fell head-over-heels in love with her despite her pooping on my brand new apple green rug within minutes of entering the house. I carried her around like an infant, shielding her 14 pound frame from imminent smooshing from her beloved 110 pound lab brother.

Cody & Shelby

Sassy Shelby

Her first days were filled with an initial vet visit and trip to A Country Clip, our local dog groomer / spa for a much-needed mani-pedi.
     Shelby was the runt of the litter, (not that there is anything wrong with that) and was late growing in her teeth. Once she settled in and realized she was safe and had plenty to eat, she began to relax and grew bigger each day. She potty-trained quickly, can sit, lay down, jump, retrieve a ball or Frisbee, catch treats in mid-air, manipulate and prance on command. She now has a full set of pearly whites and seems to enjoy having her teeth brushed with her Hello Kitty toothbrush.
Shelby's a girly-girl and is often seen sporting a rainbow of pastel t-shirts and bandanas.


     I am still in the romantic phase of puppy parenting where I find myself using "my puppy" in every other sentence and can plausibly cut social events short because of "the puppy".
My affection for Shelby frightens me at times, and I wonder how I ever existed without loving her.




     Shelby and Cody have become fast friends and he does his best to supervise her crazy antics.

Saloon Girl Shelby-Halloween

Shelby's hobbies include landscape architecture (she is currently removing the underground sprinkler system) horticulture (she has dug up every single house plant that displeases her) and she loves cheering for the Denver Broncos. She is recovering from a notable shoe fetish that promptly stopped when we were forced to install locks on the bedroom doors. Shelby can reach up to unlatch and open every door in our home, at will. Beautiful and smart!

     I have learned so much about puppies with my Shelby girl and have discovered that protecting them from potential trouble or hazards is my responsibility as a pet owner. Shelby isn't a BAD DOG when she gets into mischief, she is a puppy, and puppies, like babies need shielding from potential disasters.

Shelby 7 months

     We give Princessa Shelby a LOT of grace and remember her background before responding to her behavior. Shelby's mother was discovered by Dog Rescue Without Borders, pregnant and homeless on the unforgiving streets of Tijuana, Mexico. She was picked up and brought to the United States for medical care and gave birth to 4 puppies in a safe and loving foster home.
     Our now 7 month old yellow lab Shelby has grown to an impressive 40 pounds in 4 short months. What a difference an abundance of love can make. She recently had her lady-parts surgery and has recovered like a champ. Shelby has the most beautiful, enviable caramel-colored eyelashes and a soft pink nose. She's always loyal, protective, pushy and obnoxiously adorable. The stress face she used to perpetually wear has faded and she's so incredibly happy now that when she thumps her tail it can be heard throughout the house. She's extremely curious and has earned the nickname "Nosey Rosey".
     Her appreciation, love and adoration overshadow her flaws and she's quick to give a flurry of kisses for no apparent reason.

Broncos cheerleader

     We've continued to stay in contact with Dog Rescue Without Borders and are extremely impressed with their agency. They are definitely not doing this to get rich! Each rescued dog is fostered until a viable home can be found. Many of their rescues come from Mexico and medical care for them can be expensive. Some have been hit by cars, abused, lost and all seem to be hungry for food, love, affection and most of all a safe, soft place to lay their precious heads at night. I love to share the stories of their rescues in hopes other families will choose rescue adoption through DRWB before purchasing a dog.

She's safe now

Marty Bubble by Guest Blogger Cynthia Niswonger

Neeko & Marty Bubble

The story of this dog and how he came to be such a beloved member of our household did not start in a breeder’s home, or in a pet shop, or even in the dog pound.  It did not start in any of the “usual” ways.  Of that I’m completely convinced.  No.  For us Marty-Bubble’s position of prominence in our lives began at the birth of our second child in 2007. 

Oh, maybe its magical thinking but I have come to believe that just as my son drew his first breath, God placed His fingers to His lips and sent shrill whistle into the universe.  You and I did not hear it; of course, it was the kind of whistle only dogs can hear.  But, I believe whole heartedly that God called Marty-Bubble into our lives right then.  Nicholas’ dog was padding his way to us; though neither the vision of this soft hearted pudgy white dog or the realization of our very real need of him, had yet even begun to emerge into our consciousness.

My son was diagnosed almost three years after his birth with significant special needs.  One of the ways that his disability presented itself, especially in those early years, was that he had a hard time slowing down.  He had a hard time regulating his emotions.  It was difficult for him to connect with people. He had great difficulty balancing sensory input.  He could not speak.  And, in those early years he struggled to show that he understood words spoken to him.  Sometimes he became so overwhelmed by all of the input in his world that he disappeared inside of himself.  He would stand staring out of his bedroom window and flinch when we touched him.  Sometimes we could not reach him at all.

I knew immediately upon his diagnosis that one area he was most at ease, was around animals.  Where we ourselves presented so many challenges for him with so many social rules and sensory assaults to navigate through, our pets drew out freely something wonderful in him.  We at that time had—a Chihuahua, an outdoor cat, and a horse in the yard.  Those four legged creatures seemed to always get tender smiles and care from him.  He was absolutely drawn to them.  I thought of getting him a service dog for a while.

But, there were obstacles and challenges to that.  One of the challenges was the immense cost of having one trained and the travel and expenses involved, both financially and personally.  I wasn’t sure I had it in me to invest in the time and training that it would take to ensure a successful match and a healthy obedient working dog. 

The other heart breaking obstacle was that, for as much as my child loved dogs, something in the way he moved; jerking and flitting and zipping in constant zig zagging bursts of  frenetic motion; and the way he liked to get very close and stare a dog directly in the eye,  was jarring to them. 

My son had been bitten by dogs.  Once he was bitten across the whole of his face by a service dog.  The wound was very minor, but it could have been terrible.  I right then and there began to shelve the idea of looking at a working dog.  He had also been bitten by a few other dogs.  He was nipped at by our Chihuahua and by dogs whose owners were shocked to see their dog bite.  We felt a terrible weight of responsibility for the dogs as well as for our child.

So, with reluctance and a great degree of actual sorrow, I pulled the idea of a service dog---really any dog at all, off of the list.  I whispered up to God and asked Him to send us something someday, in just the right time.  I put aside the idea of dogs.

Of course time moved along.  My son got older and matured.  We spent a lot of time doing therapies. But, by the time he was six years old, it was time for just fun!  So just at the end of nearly three years of intensive in home daily ABA therapy, we came to the end of the EI years and therapy.  That’s when the idea of a dog entered my mind again.  It was in the casual text of our former therapist. 

She asked me if I was still looking for a dog, because her mother in law was giving one up and she thought Marty, the dog might be a really good fit.  I hesitated.  I was reluctant after all of this time.  I replayed all of those bites in my head, and I honestly thought I would say no. 

I asked her what he was like and if she could send a picture of him.  She said “Honestly he’s hard to describe.  He can’t get enough love.  I mean, really! He’s mostly outside in the yard and the other dogs are kind of mean to him.  I like him though, he’s a neat dog.  He’s chunky and kinda goofy looking” and then the picture came through.  I swear if that dog had looked any different at all, I would have said no---

But, there he was in the picture.  He had soft chocolate eyes and a pudgy rounded body---and he looked like a cross between a velveteen plush stuffed beagle and a Jiffy marshmallow.  His eyes stared straight through the camera as if he was looking through the lens and off to God, asking Him if he’d done a good job.

We took Marty in after a trial period.  But, the first time my son screeched joyfully in his ear and buried his face in the fur at the nape of his neck gently tugging fistfuls of bristly soft fur, when Marty seemed to only want to snuggle closer, we knew he would always stay. 

He is named Marty-Bubble because my son could not quite nail down the sound production to say Marty.  When he said it, it came out mom.  So from a list of about six words that my son could say clearly; cookie, car, bubble, purple etc. ---our son chose Bubble.  As the dog was adjusting to the name change, we often tacked them both together---the joyful , playful, utter absurdity of the sound of them together being called down the hallway, well it just stuck.  Marty-Bubble became our dog!

Marty-Bubble goes everywhere my kid goes.  He is a constant goofy companion by his side.  The dog walks him to the bus every day and jumps on board.  He takes up his own bench seat and sits like he’s reporting his work to God again, while the bus driver buckles my son in.  Then he pads gently off of the bus and walks back home with me. 

He goes to my son’s school sometimes and very gently lies down as a circle gathers around him.  He allows the sticky grasping sweet and fragile hands of all of the children, each with varying degrees of significant special needs to pat across his fur.  He lays there like gooey warmed over marshmallow whip in a classroom that is like the United Nations of disabilities, every one of them is represented---and every child gets to stroke and tug through his fur. His tail thumps and his eyes are far off, focused on God again.

Marty-Bubble is a white shadow dog now.  I am still very careful about them not being unsupervised together.  Though, he’s never once shown an ounce of aggression, he’s never even walked away from my son.  He stays by his side, no matter what.  I teach my child through the love of this humble looking dog about his personal responsibility to be gentle and kind and to take care of another living soul, and to do it with great pride. 

And, Marty-Bubble gives it right back in every way that he can.  One of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen is when the dog thinks my son is being reprimanded harshly, he will pad softly up and physically lay his body across my child and stare at me with soft eyes---as if to say “Hey, hey---we can work this out, let’s just talk about it…” and it always makes me grin.

Every night for a few minutes Marty-Bubble climbs up into bed with my son and stretches his warm protective and peaceful body full length out against his side.  His presence there signals that it is time to relax.  I know when my son has come to rest; I’ll hear a tumble thump as the dog jumps from his bed and pads down the hall to his own soft sided always open crate.  I know then that all is well in my son’s world.

In the end it always comes back to the simple gifts a dog brings.  We are so grateful to God for calling Marty-Bubble into our lives and for all of the immeasurable and impossible to articulate zillion and one little moments of happiness that he brings into our lives.  Of course everyone knows that boys need dogs.  But, our little boy needed one even more.

I think though, that it was a recent moment that had the most profound effect on me personally that encapsulated the gift of our dog.  During my son's life we have done years of therapy.  We did years and years of neurology, one of my kid’s issues was seizure disorder.  Recently his scans came back clean and he’s been seizure free for over two years!  We were discharged officially from service in neurology, except for an annual visit each year.

As we concluded this last visit I looked up suddenly feeling a little lick of something akin to panic for a moment  …”Wait! What do we do next?  I mean where do we go from here?” I asked.  The neurologist smiled gently and said “You go play. Go have fun! Enjoy this; things don’t always last---but right now, you’re in a good place.  Just go have fun."  Then she paused and said almost abashedly--- "Though, therapeutically speaking I would suggest, well---I mean, does he have a dog?” My relief was sudden and sweeping as I felt the width of my smile almost split my face from ear to ear.

And so there you go. Degrees.  DSM’s. Medicine. Therapies.  Even with all of that knowledge in a icy cool clinical scientific world, even the experts know---there’s magic in dogs.  

When Marty-Bubble is at my kid’s side, he becomes the physical embodiment of one thing we’ve been able to provide, that is unquestionably right. Yes, there’s magic in all dogs.  But, there’s more than that in some dogs.  There’s a direct gateway to heaven in the eyes of some dogs. This is the story of one such dog--our dog.  Our silly wonderful Marty-Bubble.   

Cynthia Niswonger is a stay at home mother in San Diego California. She is an active voice and advocate in the autism community. She is an animal lover and a nature seeker. She is a part time writer and a poet.  She shares her unique views and experiences openly through her writing.