K9 DISC THRILLS

 

K9 Disc Thrills
Top Gun Performance K9 Rescue
Riverside, CA 92504

ph: (951) 288-PUPS (7877)
alt: (951) 776-2221

"TOP GUN PERFORMANCE" K9 RESCUE

Not that I don’t already have enough to keep me busy, (I also have a regular 40-hour work week)  I also operate a specialized Dog Rescue operation dedicated to high drive herding dogs.  McNabs and McNab-X are my specialty but, Border Collies, Kelpies, Aussies and Cattledogs are welcome here too . 

I work with Southern California Aussie Rescue, Border Collie Rescue, various other Rescue groups, all the local Animal Shelters as well as scouring the CraigsList Pet ads daily.

     I "usually" take in only a couple of fosters at a time, (although "sometimes this is difficult and I wind up with a "few" more) it gives me more "one-on-one" training time with the dog, and also gives me the opportunity to see where his/her interests are.  I give all my fosters exposure to Canine Frisbee, Agility, and Herding (At the Pasture with Doug Manley). Once evaluated he/she will be available for adoption to individuals in search of a performance oriented companion.  So, if you have a young (they really have to be "two years old or younger" to be accepted into the pack of my personal Cowdogs) high-drive canine that you need to give up, call me first before taking him/her to a shelter, let me evaluate your dog for a spot in my rescue operation. I can promise you that your K9 friend will be placed in a good home with a responsible individual that is looking for just such a companion. And if you are on the other end of this, and looking for a high-performance playmate and best friend, please contact me  and leave your name and phone number and I will do my utmost to unite you with the dog of your dreams.

 

     Saving one dog will not change the world...

but surely, the world will be changed

for that one dog you saved!

 

 

ADOPTION MISCONCEPTIONS
The most common misconception about dogs that are up for adoption is that they are unwanted: crazy, sick or old... There are many reasons that dogs lose their homes. And most of them are not the animal's fault. In fact, it's usually the owner's failure to properly train their dog or deal with life changes. Some of these changes might include unrealistic expectations of their pets, changes in a work schedule, lifestyle, a new baby comes home, relocating to a place where pets aren't allowed, allergies, prospective spouse doesn't like pets; the list goes on and on. 
See my Available Herding Dogs page for a few of the Available Dogs I foster and a couple of private foster listings. Be sure to check out the Rescue sites, Cool Links and Great Rescue Organizations. Always check with your local SPCA or Animal Shelter or visit
www.Petfinder.com

  • 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.

    As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn't feel sad about my past. I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone's life.

    She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me. I shoved my shoulder and side of my head up against the bars to comfort her. Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship.

    A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well. Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms. I would promise to keep her safe. I would promise to always be by her side. I would promise to do everything I could to
    see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes. I was so fortunate that she came down my corridor. So many more are out there who haven't walked the corridors. So many more to be saved. At least I could save one.
    I rescued a human today.

    ...Unknown

  •                 "JUST A DOG"

    From time to time people tell me "Lighten up, it's just a dog" or "that's a lot of money for just a dog." They don't understand the distance traveled, time spent, or costs involved for "Just a dog."

    Some of my proudest moments have come about with "Just a dog." Many hours have passed with my only company being "Just a dog" and not once have I felt slighted.

    Some of my saddest moments were brought about by "Just a dog." In those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "Just a dog" provided comfort and purpose to overcome the day.

    If you too, think it's "Just a dog," you will probably understand phrases like "Just a friend," "Just a sunrise" or "Just a promise."

    "Just a dog," brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust and unbridled joy.

    "Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that makes me a better person. Because of "Just a dog" I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.

    For me and folks like me, it's not "Just a dog," it's an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.

    "Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

    I hope that someday people can understand it's not "Just a dog." It's the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being "Just a man/woman."

    So, the next time you hear the phrase "Just a dog," smile, because they "Just don't understand!"

    -Author Unknown

     

  •    JUST ANOTHER DOG AT THE SHELTER:
             
    READ THIS ONE TO THE END! 

                                                            warning: tear jerker... 

     They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street. 

    But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did. 

    But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike. 

    For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.

    I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey. 

    This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me." 

    Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me. 

    Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.

    But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."
    ____________ _________ _________ ________
    To: Whoever Gets My Dog: 
    Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have to go to try to make it right. 

    So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you. 

    First, he loves tennis balls. the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly. 

    Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - "sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.

    I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog. 

    Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand. 

    He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info. with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car - I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows. 

    Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

    Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you....His name's not Reggie.

    I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything is fine. But if someone else is reading it, well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems.

    His real name is Tank. 

    Because that is what I drive. 

    Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that  they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone call the shelter... in the "event"... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word. 

    Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. 

    And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me. 

    That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

    All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth. 

    Good luck with Tank. 
    Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me. 

    Thank you, Paul Mallory 
    ____________ _________ _________ ____

    I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

    I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog. 

    "Hey, Tank," I said quietly. 

    The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright. 

    "C'mere boy." 

    He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. 

    "Tank," I whispered.

    His tail swished.

    I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes  softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him. 

    "It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So what do you say we play some ball? His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

The Rescuer's Final Reward

     Unlike most days  at the Rainbow Bridge, this day dawned cold and gray. All the recent  arrivals at the Bridge did not know what to think, as they had never seen such a day. 

But the animals who had been waiting longer for their beloved  people to accompany them across the Bridge knew what was happening, and  they began to gather at the pathway leading to the Bridge.
    Soon an elderly dog came into view, head hung low and tail  dragging.  He approached slowly, and though he showed no sign of injury or  illness, he was in great emotional pain. 

     Unlike the animals gathered along  the pathway, he had not been restored to youth and vigor upon arriving at  the Bridge.  He felt out of place, and wanted only to cross over and find happiness.
     But as he approached the Bridge, his  way was barred by an angel, who apologized and explained that the tired and  broken-spirited old dog could not cross over. 
Only those animals  accompanied by their people were allowed to cross the Bridge. 

Having nobody, and with nowhere else to turn, the dog trudged into the field in  front of the Bridge. There he found others like himself, elderly or infirm, sad and discouraged. 

Unlike the other animals waiting to cross the Bridge, these animals were not running or playing. They simply were lying in the grass, staring forlornly at the pathway across the Rainbow Bridge. The old  dog took his place among them, watching the pathway and waiting.yet not  knowing for what he was waiting.
     One of the newer dogs at the Bridge asked a cat who had been there longer to explain what  was happening.  The cat replied, "Those poor animals were abandoned, turned  away, or left at rescue places, but never found a home on earth. They all passed on with only the love of a rescuer to comfort them. Because they had no people to love them, they have nobody to escort them across the Rainbow  Bridge."
     The dog asked the cat, "So what will happen to  those animals?"  Before the cat could answer, the clouds began to part and  the cold turned to bright sunshine.  The cat replied, "Watch, and you will  see."

In the distance was a single person, and as he approached the Bridge the old, infirm and sad animals in the field were bathed in a golden light. They were at once made young and healthy, and stood to see what their fate would be. 

     The animals who had previously gathered at the pathway bowed their heads as the person approached.  At each bowed head, the person offered a scratch or hug. 

     One by one, the now youthful  and healthy animals from the field fell into line behind the person. Together, they walked across the Rainbow Bridge to a future of happiness and unquestioned love.
     The dog asked the cat, "What just  happened?" The cat responded, "That was a  rescuer.  The animals gathered along the pathway bowing in respect were those who had found their forever homes because of rescuers.  They will  cross over when their people arrive at the Bridge. 

The arrival here of a rescuer is a great and solemn event, and as a tribute they are permitted to perform one final act of rescue.  They are allowed to escort all those poor  animals they couldn't place on earth across the Rainbow Bridge."
     The dog thought for a moment, then said, "I like rescuers."  The  cat smiled and replied, "So does heaven, my friend.  So does heaven."

BarbaraRose Farber
 
Best Dog in the World
By T'Mara Goodsell

Years ago, I owned the very best dog in the world.
I was a child when we got her. She was a graceful brown hound, a foundling who taught me that our pets are not purchased, but ordained.
     She romped when I did and knew how to smile in that funny way that only some dogs have. She grew up with me, always there when I needed her.
My grown hand still remembers the sleek bump on the top of her head and that gentle divot just past her nose that fit my index finger just perfectly.
     She passed away during one of my college vacations. My heart broke then, and I knew that there would never be another dog like her, and there hasn't been. I was sure that I could never love another dog as much as I'd loved her.
Fortunately, I was wrong about that part.
     My next dog came into my life when I was married. My husband traveled for a living, and I was often lonely. This dog grew into a lumbering Wolfhound and Sheepdog mix who taught me patience. He was a large, grizzled sentry, that dog. He rarely left my side until the children were born, and then he became their guardian, too. I can still feel that swirl of fur along his back and the weight of his chin when it rested in my lap.
     When he passed away, my heart broke. As much as I had loved that childhood dog, I had been wrong. This was the very best dog in the world. There would never be another dog like him, and there hasn' t been. I was sure I would never
love another dog as much as I'd loved him.
I was wrong again.
     We got the next one, a loping black Lab-and-Terrier mix, when the children were little. He taught me the  importance of adapting. He was everyone's dog from the beginning, and that was just as it should be. When he played tug of war with the children, he dragged them across the kitchen floor as they shrieked with laughter. He always seemed to sleep in the room of the child who needed his company the most..
     These days his face is expressively gray, and he spends more time with me since the almost-grown children aren't around so much. The other day my oldest, home from college, played tug of war. We all laughed--just a little--as the dog was gently pulled across the kitchen floor.
     He is, of course, the very best dog in the world. I will never forget that exquisitely soft tuft of fur behind his ears or the tickly feel when he nuzzles. There won't be another dog like him. And that's okay, because we will never be at this point in our lives again.
     Sometimes I've wondered why two species that get along so well should have such different life spans. It just doesn't seem right. And then I wonder if that's part of the lesson: To teach us that love itself has a spirit that returns again and again and never really dies.
     It's amazing, in a way, how they bring to our ever-changing lives exactly what it is that we need at the moment. They make room for one another, this family of dogs who has never even met. And they fit--into our families, into our
lives, into our memories, and into our hearts--because they always have been and always will be the best dogs in the world.

To the world you are a rescue person,
To a rescued dog you are the world.

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.  author unknown

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BREAKING NEWS!

Look! Up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, no! It's a flying Disc Dog! Disc Dog Empire is the Inland Empire's Newest Disc Dog Club and has opened it's doors for membership. Bring your dog out for a fun and exciting day of Dog Frisbee, not sure how? We'll teach you anything from just playing Frisbee with your dog or if you'd like, instructing you how to compete in an actual competition event. All types of dogs and people welcome, only restrictions are you both have to be dog/people friendly. Family and Fun Days are held in Norco with time and dates posted on this site. We will usually have a "snack type" pot-luck (bring what you'd like)to munch on. All our events will be focusing on making you and your dog a better team. (www.discdogempire.com) 

K9 Disc Thrills
Top Gun Performance K9 Rescue
Riverside, CA 92504

ph: (951) 288-PUPS (7877)
alt: (951) 776-2221