THE DOGFESSIONS LEASH BALL

In the winter of 2003 I found a stray dog wandering the highway on a rainy night. Not being the type of person to leave a shivering, lost dog to be hit by a car, I called her and she responded, and the next thing I knew I was the proud owner of a skin-and-bones, tick infested, terrified Heinz 57 mutt. I contacted all of the agencies that handle lost dogs, roamed the internet, did everything I could to find her owners for weeks -- nothing. Clearly, this old girl had been abandoned, probably tossed out because she was ill.

Lulu was ravenous, nearly blind, and didn’t have the slightest bit of training. Her hips were bad, and if you reached to grab her collar she would throw herself onto the floor and scream, almost like a person. She had been badly abused. I felt so sorry for the old girl, so I cleaned her up, got her some medical care, taught her a name -- Lulu Belle -- taught her to sit (she’d plop down with those bad hips!), and put 12 pounds on her -- she finally looked normal. I already had two dogs and no room for a third (I thought), so once she was a little better, I tried to find her a good home. After a few weeks someone finally took her. I cried all night. The next day the man called saying that he didn’t want her, and I was over his place in a flash to pick her up. Lulu was mine for keeps! Lulu got along well with my male dogs -- she kindly let the little one boss her around -- and she really came out of her shell. But there were things she just wouldn’t do. I tried to get her to sleep on the bed with us, but she wouldn’t, probably because she got in big trouble if she tried that in her prior home. She jumped up on the bed two times and barked at me, so proud and happy, wagging her tail, and then jumped off again. She was a really funny character and a joy to have around. And since I have two docked Schnauzers, it was really fun having a dog with a happy tail!

As the months went by, Lulu started getting weak. She couldn’t walk up and down the stairs anymore, so I had to paper train her, and she was pretty good with that. She started having terrible seizures, too. The first one was in the middle of the night, and I was so scared that I actually called 911. I breathlessly and rapidly told the 911 operator what was happening, holding Lulu in my arms, and suddenly, in mid-sentence, I began to slow down as reality finally hit me. I said, slowly, “You don’t come for dogs, do you?” The operator said “no.” I thanked her, hung up, and cried.

Lulu started having periods of dementia where she would walk into corners and couldn’t get out, or she’d fall down and cry and couldn’t get back up. I took her to three veterinarians, none of which could diagnose her. She was just plain old. Her eyes got even worse, and she became basically blind, which made her very unhappy. She cried a lot and she started throwing up every where all day long. None of the vets could tell me what was going on! She was on three different medications, but nothing helped.

After a night where she paced for 24 hours, crying and falling down, I called the house call vet to come over and evaluate her. When he got here, Lulu was still pacing and crying. The vet examined her and said that she was completely blind, probably due to a brain tumor, and that she was very, very old. Lulu came over to us, and for the first time in many hours, she laid down at our feet. She was done. The vet said that the dog always tells you when she’s ready to go, and now was the time. She went to the rainbow bridge in peace, and it was one of the most difficult decisions of my life. It was a very, very sad day. I had her for just 6 months, and I honestly think it was the best 6 months of her life. I still keep her heart-shaped ID tag on my wallet.

Every now and then, when I’m cleaning my home, I come across Lulu’s purple collar, pink leash, and violet harness bundled up in a drawer. There is nothing emptier for a dog lover than a harness without a dog in it. I think of donating them to a shelter, but then time gets away from me and they just sit there in the drawer for another few months until I come across them again. Then, it dawned on me -- if I have this harness, leash, and collar sitting here, I bet that thousands of other people have collars, harnesses, or leashes sitting in their drawers too. Maybe the items are from a beloved dog that passed. Maybe from a puppy that out grew them. Maybe they simply went out of style and the owner wanted another color. Maybe they are just a little worn out. Whatever the case, there are millions of collars, harnesses, and leashes just sitting around -- equipment that shelter dogs desperately need. But how to motivate people to think about donating those collars and leashes? Even I need a little bit of motivation. Then, a light-bulb moment happened: a “Dogfessions Leash Ball!” You know, like the “Worlds Largest Ball of Twine” or “Worlds Largest Ball of Rubber Bands.” A huge ball made of collars, harnesses, and leashes!

Just like Dogfessions, the “Dogfessions Leash Ball” is a pet project that brings together art, dogs, and charity. Starting September 1, 2007, I will attempt to make the largest ball of leashes, harnesses, and collars in the world. At the end of a year (or once the ball wins the world record), the ball will be donated to a shelter and dismantled for use by the shelter dogs. I will start it with just one collar, leash, and harness set -- Lulu’s -- and add to it as the collars, leashes, and harnesses come in.

If you’d like to contribute to the “Dogfessions Leash Ball” and see it grow, and help shelter dogs at the same time, please send your old collars, leashes, and harnesses to:

Dogfessions Leash Ball Project

676A Ninth Ave.

#321

New York, NY 10036

I will post photos as the “Dogfessions Leash Ball” grows. Please feel free to send any notes or other memorabilia of your dog -- I will include it all in the ball. Please help me to make this project a reality by sending used or new leashes, collars, and harnesses. I want to honor the memory of Lulu and of all the loved dogs out there that have outgrown -- or out-lived -- their leashes. Thank you!

--Nikki Moustaki