As many of you know, an integral part of our business is giving back. Rescue calendar contests, book projects, raffles, real work that we're proud to be part of, supporting organizations doing something that matters. This newsletter is different from the ones you usually get from me. I'm not chronicling a session, a launch, or what's happening in my business. This time, I'm asking for help.

 

For those of you who don't know them yet, Northeast Canine breeds, raises, and trains Great Danes to become mobility service dogs for veterans and first responders, then gives them away, at no cost, to the people who need them most. These dogs are family to us, they come to our home, we bring them to visit my mom, who lives with Alzheimer's. I've watched her light up the moment they walk in and the residents there reach for them, hug them, ask for them by name. This organization has given so much to our family that I don't have the right words for it, only the feeling.

 

These last few months have been hard for them.

Their most recent litter, The Wild Ones, arrived by emergency C-section. Then, just last week, Millie, the next dog scheduled to be bred, died suddenly in her backyard.

The autopsy and cremation cost far more than anyone expected. Northeast Canine is a small nonprofit. They don't have room in the budget for a stretch like this.

 

And then, this weekend, Angus, needed us most.

We met Angus at twelve days old, one of the Lucky 7 litter.

 

He's spent so many nights in our house that he made it into our family Christmas card.

He's the one who taught my own dog, Willow, that Great Danes aren't something to be nervous around, that a dog who looks like a small pony can still be the gentlest thing in the room.

 

Within minutes, Angus went from happily playing outside to fighting for his life. Bloat is one of the fastest, most dangerous emergencies a dog can face. He is alive because one of NEC's volunteers and his owner, Meg, acted in minutes, not hours.

 

He made it through emergency surgery, and he's home now, starting the long road to recovery.

 

 

We're hoping it won't be long before he's back at Dog World, playing with his siblings.

His medical bills will land close to ten thousand dollars, on top of everything else Northeast Canine has carried these last few months. We've raised about eight thousand so far, thanks to the kindness of people who have already shown up for him. The messages, the support, the generosity in these last couple of days have been overwhelming, and we're so grateful for a community that shows up like this.

 

I've never done this before. Every time I've asked for anything, there's been something in it for you too, a chance to win a session, a spot in the calendar, a place in the book. This time there isn't, I'm just asking.

 

Angus is part of our family, and Northeast Canine has given us more than I know how to repay. If any of this has touched you, even a little, I'd be so grateful if you'd consider helping.

 

There are a few ways to do that. You can donate directly to Angus's care. You can pick up one of our greeting cards, featuring the Lucky 7 litter, with proceeds going straight to Northeast Canine. Or you can simply follow Northeast Canine and share their story. Every bit of it helps, even the smallest.

 

And if the GoFundMe has reached the goal by the time you read this, don't let that stop you. Anything raised goes straight back to the dogs still waiting on their next chapter.

 

Angus is home. He's sleeping in his own bed tonight instead of an emergency room, and that is not something I take for granted.

 

Thank you for reading this one all the way through. Thank you for letting me make it personal.

 

With gratitude,

Beth