Author: wamalrescue

Yeti is a member of WAMAL’s class of 2022! He recently passed, but he had a very, very happy tail!

Yeti was the most beautiful, happy boy, who absolutely loved his life. He enjoyed snacks, snuggling, hiking, eating, backpacking, paddle boarding, xc skiing, biking and meal times. Most of all, he just liked to be with his pack, whether that was on an adventure, running errands or lazing around. 

We couldn’t have asked for a better friend than Yeti, we are so lucky to have been able to share these years with him, and we know that Yeti had a wonderful time as well. He taught us how amazing the snow can be, the art of a dip on a warm day, and most importantly, that squirrels are NOT friends. 

Yeti was diagnosed with lymphoma in 2023, he fought so so hard, constantly amazing all of vets, but unfortunately started losing his fight recently. We are so proud of all that he was capable of, and his tenacity to keep going. 

We love you so much pal 

Yuma (or Yumaevsky, as he was affectionately called) was a 10-month-old Malamute mix who was found abandoned in a Seattle park and was very nearly euthanized. He had clearly been stored in a cage and produced only for ceremonial occasions to shake, which was the only command he knew. When we adopted him, we discovered that he was out of control. He was destructive, disobedient, and appeared untrainable. His general attitude of defiance did have its amusing moments, though. One evening, my daughters came running down the stairs screaming, “Dad, he has a knife.” Much to my amazement, I discovered that he did indeed have a knife, and even more than that, he evidently knew how to use it. He was holding the handle in his mouth with the blade straight out, and he was charging at us. It took me about 10 minutes to disarm him.

Eventually, long after the trial adoption period had ended, we decided that the adoption simply was not working out, so I arranged to return Yuma to WAMAL. As we were packing his belongings, a strange interaction occurred between him and our other Malamute mix, Yiska. Yiska walked up to Yuma, stared at him for several long seconds, then walked away. Yuma was clearly shaken and even seemed apologetic. I cancelled the appointment with WAMAL and told him that we’d give him one last chance, but he needed to change his behavior. And amazingly, from that point onward, we saw a dramatic improvement. From being out of control, he gradually became a well-behaved friend and companion.

Yuma was always very stoic even for a Malamute (except for feeding time, when he ran around the perimeter of the yard squealing, and when he was trying to climb the walls to better smell the cooking odors wafting throughout the kitchen and breakfast nook). When he was six, however, he became critically ill with peritonitis and needed emergency surgery. In the hospital, his recovery was threatened by his refusal to eat. My younger daughter suggested we bring him food from home (Eukanuba mixed with broth and Parmesan cheese and topped with sprinkles of shredded cheddar). We did, and he gobbled it down. It was a revelation for me: it was the first time that I realized how much Yuma appreciated the food prepared for him, how much he valued his home, how much he loved each of us, and how much he loved his life.

As Saya, our Corgi mix, aged, and as we adopted two elderly dogs, Xena and Kenai, it became clear that Yuma was a caregiver. As Saya struggled with memory loss and disorientation, Yuma tried to guide her and watch over her. When he realized Xena was deaf, he led her to the window so that she could see me getting out of the car. (By himself, Yuma never came to greet me.) When Kenai was very ill, he watched over him and comforted him.

One Tuesday in May 2023, Yuma lost the use of his hind legs. Miraculously, early the following morning, he was able to walk again, although falteringly. Over the next six months, as good days alternated with bad days, Yuma’s mobility and general health gradually declined. But despite his physical decline and despite enormous pain, Yuma tenaciously clung to life. In fact, we marveled at how much he loved living despite his diminished state.

On November 3, 2023, it was clear that his end had come, and Yuma passed away peacefully at home surrounded by his family and his veterinarian with his wife. After his death, we realized that Yuma had fought so hard to live not for himself, but because, as the caregiver he was, he was concerned about us and about how our lives would go on without him. Not only was Yuma a protector, but he also structured my life. Regularity was important to him; perfection was achieved when every day was the same as every other day. He controlled waking time, breakfast time, the time for his long walk (always promptly at 11:30, when he was healthy enough to go for a long walk), dinner time, and pill time. He imposed a structure and a regularity on our lives that filled our lives with joy – and he knew it. It was his gift to us.

St. Irenaeus, the great second century bishop and theologian, wrote that in the new heaven and the new earth at the end of time, not only us, but also our animals, will be given resurrected bodies. I know that, in his stoic way, Yuma will be eagerly awaiting me so that we can once again go on our long walk together.

A Tribute

We lost our sweet hound dog, Cedar, to mast cell cancer in April. It was sad and difficult, but we had time to spoil her (even more than usual) and adjust to the fact that she would soon be gone. When Cedar crossed the rainbow bridge, we were left with Ginny, our sweet 11 year old malamute. Mals are not known to live long lives, but Ginny’s lab work could have been that of a much younger dog. We looked forward to loving her for several more years.

One day in May, while on our usual walk, Ginny slowed down…way down. Once home, she spent the day panting heavily. The vet determined that Ginny had an issue with her spine. We went home with medication and limited hope of recovery. We rode a rollercoaster of despair and hope for a bit over a week as she alternately suffered and rallied. I have always had a strong conviction not to let an animal suffer and, ultimately, we let Ginny go. I was far from ready to say goodbye to her, however I knew in my heart that I would never be ready. Even now, as I compose this, the pain is as raw as it was on June 5th. It’s been almost 3 months and I still shed tears most every day, but it’s time that I finally post a tribute to this beautiful soul.

We rescued Ginny when she was almost 8 1/2 - I knew that it wouldn’t be a long relationship, but I wasn’t prepared for how much I would grow to love her in such a short time. Ginny wasn’t just a happy dog, she personified joy. I desperately miss her excited zoomies when we prepared for a walk, her impatient woos while she awaited her evening treat, her quiet knock on the door when she wanted to come into the house, and even her sassyness when she didn’t get her way. I love gardening and one of Ginny’s idiosyncrasies was that she would stop to smell flowers (literally) when we were out for a walk. Stole my heart every time. She was dog reactive, but adored children - ADORED them - and was incredibly gentle with them. We planned our walks to coincide with recess at the local elementary school and the children would come running to pet Ginny as she pressed her large, fluffy body against the fence, then rewarded them with happy woos. We walked twice a day and many in our neighborhood knew her - it wasn’t unusual for people to stop their cars to say “Hi Ginny!” She left an indelible mark on so many people.

On Ginny’s final day, she was no longer able to walk by the school as it was too far for her weak hind legs to carry her. I loaded her into the car and took her to the local park so that she could walk on the grass. We saw a small child and Ginny walked right by… It was then that I knew she was ready… Her joy was gone. Absolutely the most devastatingly painful decision I’ve ever had to make.

Ginny was amazing and I am so lucky that I had the chance to love her.

Love your pups. Treasure every single day.

I'm Lukas' Mom. This is just meant as a tribute to my boy. We found Lukas through WAMAL. My step-daughter wanted a big dog to take on her walks to feel safe. I wanted a dog who would live longer than a Great Dane or Irish Wolfhound, so we compromised on a Malamute. I'd never had a dog in my life before. She & my husband had, but not a Mal.

We met Lukas in Richland, WA at his 2nd owner's house. It still boggles my mind that we were this magical dog's 3rd family! How could anyone give him up! But at the time all I could think was "we're putting THAT in my Hyundai Sonata and driving back to the Eastside?!?!?" He was HUGE. 110 pounds and super tall. The answer is, yes, he did have gray wolf in his DNA that we did get tested later and that accounts for his huge height. I ended up in the hospital for an operation in those first 2 weeks and then spent all my time at home, alone, with Lukas while I recuperated. He was scared because we were new to him and I was just scared of dogs in general and his size made him truly intimidating. But he needed me and I needed him and we bonded. He took me from dog fearful to dog lover.

I call Lukas a generous dog. Generous with his love, his happiness, his enthusiasm, his time, his attention, and his joy. He could run like the wind and look beautiful doing it, he could curl himself up into a pork bun and snooze half the day, and he could dance, truly dance to bring a smile to your face when he was happy or seeing his friends -- human or canine. Every barista knew him. One had a special mug for him that she would fill with whipped cream and top it off with dog treats. He stopped traffic. Everyone in town knew his name. And he was unaware of how popular he was. No ego. Just happiness to see you and always ready to lick your face and accept a treat.

My family will miss him more than I can ever express. Thank you, WAMAL, for bringing this magical dog into our lives. Loving Lukas has been one of the best experiences of my life and saying goodbye to him one of the hardest. Thank you to everyone who knew him and to everyone who has said something. It does help. I'm glad I could share him for 8 years and share a life with him.

Last month we had to say goodbye to one of our all-time favorite pups — Bear. Our tripod extraordinaire, real-life teddy bear. He would have turned 12 years old today (May 8, 2023).

We weren’t able to add a commercial song to his video due to Facebook and copyright rules. Had we been able to, we would have chosen “Happy” by Pharrell.

Because that’s who Bear was. A happy, fun, funny, very loving moot. And he made all those fortunate enough to have spent time with him very happy too. 

Happy birthday in heaven, Bear.

Cruise (known as Kruise) to our family was an amazing boy who came to live with us for a short span of time but filled our lives with so much love and light.  We were blessed to have this quirky old man join us at the age of 12, and he celebrated his 13th birthday in late November.  From the day we met him our hearts were filled with love for him as he moved into his final "retirement" home.  He was known as the stuffed animal thief in our home as he would quietly walk into the children's rooms and gently pull them off of their bed and take them to his own.  Sadly, he has passed over the rainbow bridge.

Though our time was short, we loved him very, very much and we know he is without pain, with his true pack,  and loving his new furever home (wherever that may be).

Love you Kruise Missal

Dora had been doing very well, but not long after my last email, she became unable to put weight on her leg with the tumor. I was able to manage her pain and help her get around, but the tumor turned ulcerative and as of this morning I believe it is beyond the point of management. It’s a difficult decision, but I do not want her to suffer. I could spend a million years with her and it still wouldn’t be enough. I am so, so grateful for the time I did get with her. Dora is pure kindness and love with some delightful goofiness. I wouldn’t trade my time with her for anything. I am also very grateful for the kindness and support you all have given me.

I just want to share that Sparky died today. He was 14 years 9 months.

He was amazing and had a great life.

Although I was hoping the big guy would have some more months of easy retirement, today I sent him on his way, after only two months with us.

I believe the technical term for his condition was "a mess." I took him in on Friday for blood and urine tests and they indicated a few issues (early Cushings, thyroid deficiency, etc.) His mobility had decreased recently, although he did lose 11 pounds since I adopted him and was "down to" 138 pounds. But he no longer wanted to go on a walk, and had trouble lying down and getting back up. Vet said he thought there was cruciate ligament damage (maybe due to being overweight?)

He also continued to poop in his sleep every night, and leaked urine constantly. Near the end he slept on "gigantic" pee pads which he almost always stayed on overnight. I thought this was an early indication of DM (degenerative myelopathy) -- one sign of which is incontinence. He also stumbled sometimes and his rear legs shook.

Yesterday I discovered that he had chewed off (and ate) the tip of his tail. That meant a visit back to the vet, during which we talked about all the above issues and I decided his quality of life was diminishing; I held him as he died. (The vet said his tail was mostly dead tissue, so he probably didn't feel pain chewing it off. Plus there was not much blood at the wound site; another indication of dead tissue.)

We adopted Kenai, a 9-year-old Malamute, in early August of 2021. His family had surrendered him because they were relocating and feared that he would not survive the trip from the Pacific Northwest to the East Coast. Originally, I was highly suspicious of this explanation and thought that they simply wanted to abandon Kenai. As time passed, however, I realized that they made what was a painful and difficult decision but one that was in Kenai’s best interest.

Kenai had a disease called megaesophagus, which is an enlargement and disfunction of the esophagus. Its underlying cause is often a serious neurological condition called myasthenia gravis. I thought that caring for Kenai would be easy – just administer his daily medication and feed him from an elevated bowl. A trip to the vet, however, revealed that caring for him wouldn’t be so simple after all. It was Kenai – not his bowl -- who had to be elevated, his water consumption had to be strictly monitored and controlled, and quite possibly his medication was ineffective.

When I arrived home with Kenai, Yuma, our 11-year-old Malamute mix, initially seemed to accept Kenai but very quickly attacked him and badly wounded the back of his neck. I wasn’t sure that the adoption was viable but segregating the dogs and slowly increasing their contact helped. So did Kenai’s non-threatening nature, as well as Yuma’s recognition that Kenai was ill and required special treatment. (Earlier, Yuma had been very conscientious in serving as the ears for Xena, an 11-year-old Mal/Husky mix who was deaf.)

Kenai’s adjustment to his new life and to the rhythm of our household seemed almost instantaneous. He was docile and actively friendly to all people and all creatures except deer. He was also extremely obedient – the first Malamute I’ve had who was actually obedient when he wasn’t acting to impress. (That quickly changed as his vitality improved – he became an affectionately defiant dog.) But I realized that he was more than affectionate and friendly – he fell in love with us and became particularly devoted to me.

The depth of Kenai’s love and devotion became evident one day when I was playing with Yuma and his favorite toy. Rather than give it to me so that I could toss it to him, he growled to indicate he wanted me to chase him. Kenai misread the growl as an act of aggression and immediately came to my defense, despite knowing very well that he was not a fighter. Had we not intercepted both dogs, the episode could have ended in catastrophe. But Kenai was unconcerned with his personal fate – his concern was with protecting me.

A pattern soon emerged in Kenai’s care. We would succeed in stabilizing his condition, he would thrive for a brief period, and then he would begin to decline. His neurologist was hopeful that we could stabilize him for a long period of time, but each new round of tests simply brought more bad news about additional complications. In January of 2022, his condition began to deteriorate rapidly. He passed away in the early morning of January 12, slightly more than five months after we adopted him. As he died, he was looking at me with the same mixture of devotion and admiration that he showed throughout his time with us.

In a well-known chapter in 1 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul writes about the importance of love. What we often overlook is why he argues that love is so important: it is the primary force, along with faith and hope, that transcends the boundaries of space and time and carries us into eternity. Kenai loved with the fullness of his being, and I pray that we will be together again in the fullness of time.

It with a completely shattered and broken heart that I have to inform WAMAL that Kiia has passed away today. She passed away in my arms and was not alone. The doctor discovered that she had cancerous masses on/in her organs and one had ruptured, causing internal bleeding. She was 10 years old.

She lived a completely happy and healthy life right till the very end... I will attach some photos of her as I am still too heartbroken to really muster up anything more than that she was so very loved and will be missed so much.

Luna the Alaskan malamute rescue that was rescuing me.
2014-2021
My friend Luna Sleeps
She now sleeps the eternal sleep of this world.
Yet in my world, she lives on forever in my old broken heart.
I grieve deeply her passing too soon in her life, and mine.
She is now free of her bone cancer pain,
Yet I live on with the knowledge of that pain and much more without her.
Even with her pain and disability, she was always there for me.
She slept by my side through my good nights and bad.
For no longer will her cold nose and kisses wake me from my nightmare PTSD dreams.
No longer to be my Camp guardian on mountains treks,
Or beg for a belly rub at my feet, by high country campfire light.
Her Giant presents will be missed by our entire family,
Although none more than me.
She now sleeps pain free, in that golden light under rainbows bright,
I thank God for the special Gift he gave me,
And I,… I could not miss Luna my devoted friend more.

It is with a very heavy heart that I write today. In August of 2013, my then-husband adopted Luna from WAMAL. When we separated/divorced in 2018, he was unable to care for her, and I opted to keep her here in her home. At the time, I notified WAMAL that I would be keeping Luna with support from my next door neighbors. Our arrangement has been amazing, and has ensured that Luna was nearly always with someone, got walked or taken hiking nearly every day, and usually did not sit home alone all day while I was at work.

During the last two years, Luna had been having a number of health issues. It seemed there was always something, between dental problems, wasp sting reactions, skin infections, arthritis, and eye infections. She was super sweet and compliant through all of the care and treatment. In August she developed a front leg limp, which seemed to be arthritis spreading combined with constantly jumping in and out of my Subaru (we went so many places together). In October I discovered that she had a large lump on her side. It turned out to be an intrusive lipoma, which her vet removed. Unfortunately, after that we investigated the limp, and the biopsy revealed osteosarcoma. When treatment options were discussed, I learned that she could be put on chemotherapy, but the focus would be pain management, and she wouldn’t be hiking or taking long walks with the neighbors at all anymore. Luna did not respond adequately to the gabapentin, and completely stopped using that leg. Her vet said she was in excruciating pain, and there was nothing else to do. A consultation with a second vet confirmed that it was time to say goodbye to my sweet girl.

On December 14, Luna had seven different friends come to the house to bid her farewell. It could have been three times that many, because she was so loved, but for the pandemic.

River’s Release came to our home on December 15, and surrounded by loved ones (me, the amazing neighbors, my daughter, my son-in-law, and a dear friend, Luna made her way to the rainbow bridge.

Luna came to us as a very badly behaved wild thing. I didn’t think we would be able to keep her at that time because she terrified me. Over time, with love and consistent training, she became “the goodest good dog”, and completely won over everyone who met her. She changed me profoundly, and will forever remain in our hearts.

Thank you for the work you do

Xena, who was an approximately 10 year-old Malamute/Husky mix, came to us in September of 2020 after she was abandoned, rescued, and spent two months in a loving foster care home. Xena’s health was poor: her teeth were in bad condition, making it painful for her to eat kibble (she was the first dog to whom I fed canned dog food); her hips were painful, often making it difficult for her to walk; she was deaf; eye infections made it difficult for her to see; and despite a great diet in foster care, she remained quite emaciated. It was also clear from her behavior – she often kept her distance to avoid human contact and initially tried to sleep outside, even though she had clearly once been an indoor dog -- that she had lived a lifetime of abuse and neglect.

Neglect and abuse, however, do not define who Xena was. In Laudato Si, his encyclical on care for our common home, Pope Francis writes that God has given all creatures a unique voice, one which we have no right to silence and one which we ignore only at great cost to ourselves. Xena’s voice was a particularly loud one. This was not because she howled or made other noises; she was almost entirely silent. Instead, Xena spoke through her behavior. Despite her abuse, she was meek, quiet, unassuming, and undemanding. But hers was not a meekness borne out of weakness or avoidance. Xena had an enormous inner strength and an ability to carve out for herself the space she needed to preserve her identity. That was expressed by her appropriating the family room as her spot for morning and afternoon naps, and her obvious annoyance when her private space was violated.

It was also clear that, despite all the hardship and suffering she had experienced throughout her life, Xena continued to hope for a better future; she longed for a home where she would be accepted and loved. After her arrival, she worked extremely hard to adapt to the rules and the rhythm of our household so that she could be a reliable and trustworthy pack member. In fact, the ease of her adaptation is almost shocking in view of her deafness. Her hope was also expressed in her radiant smile, a smile that would literally fill a room. We always saw it as she watched me prepare her breakfast and dinner, as she watched me get out of the car when I returned home from an outing (our male Mal mix, Yuma, alerted her to my arrivals), and above all during twice-daily pill time, which was Xena’s favorite time of the day.

Xena passed away on the evening of Thursday, March 4, after a five-week battle against liver cancer. Unlike many animals and people, her hope was realized, and she found the love, the safety, and the acceptance that she sought. She passed away very peacefully, and now her suffering is at an end. But Xena lives on through her loud voice: her meekness in the face of hardship and her determination to preserve her dignity despite her circumstances serve as a model that can instruct and inform us. My own hope is that I can grow in a meekness that will come close to matching Xena’s own.