Posted on

Sarge

Trees FB 11-8-15He walked with two stiff legs, a limp in each one. Reminders of his Army days. He laughed, describing an injury that never quite healed. The winter-time arthritis made it worse but he had no complaints. His erect posture and head sitting straight atop his neck showed the proud soldier still.

He said to call him Sarge.

He lives behind some trees in one of the places that people without homes call home. I found him by accident, along with two others. Veterans all, choosing this life because it’s where they felt most comfortable.

Each one said they were fine, they took care of themselves and each other. But when I said dog food their eyes lit up. Sarge said they weren’t out but their bottle and can recycling was down due to the weather and they could use more food but only if I was sure no one else needed it more.

I hear that so much. People in need want to be sure that others in need get their help first. How is it that those with the least still have the most giving spirit?

I told him I had plenty.

And then Sarge talked about the dogs. Just gushing about them. They were right there, tails wagging the whole time. Each one happy and clean and neutered.

These dogs romped with abandon, having a great time. But when Sarge walked a little ways to show me something, they walked with him. Because of his limping, Sarge walked slowly.

But here was the best part. Because when he walked slowly, so did the dogs.

And when Sarge stopped and sat down, the dogs would run and play at a normal pace. But when they walked with him, they really walked with him.

It’s one of the oddest things I’d ever seen. And yet another reminder of how smart our animal friends are. He was part of their pack so they all walked together.

It reminded me of when my own Dad was sick and walked slowly, barely able to walk at all. But we walked together, my steps slowing to match his. Sometimes he made a joke about it and just for a second he’d pick up the pace and leave me a step behind.

But I felt comforted when I slowed down to keep pace with my Dad, just as I know he slowed to walk with me when I was little. I imagine those dogs felt the same way.

These soft-spoken Army Veterans had such a tidy campsite. And plenty of inside jokes. The nicknames. The prodding. The dares. The sarcasm. These guys laughed together more than anything else. Despite the challenges, they had joy. I could see it and I could feel it.

I asked if I could stop by and check on them again and they said sure, but not too often. They really did like their privacy.

It’s November now. The holiday season. The giving season. And Veteran’s Day is just three days away. Honoring men like this that gave their all.

The Pongo Fund helps a lot of veterans. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine and more. And a lot of them have animals. They struggle silently, often too proud to ask for help.

And that’s why we do our best to help them. Because they’ve already done their best to help us.

Which is why this is such GREAT NEWS. We have a proud United States Veteran stepping forward right now to match every single donation. And The Pongo Fund just began our 4th year in the Willamette Week Give Guide holiday giving campaign.

Meaning if you click this SECURE donation link your donation WILL BE DOUBLED so we can continue to help these Veterans and hundreds more like them: http://bit.ly/1MQ3Hn5 .

Once you enter your donation amount simply scroll down and provide your payment information. It’s that easy, about a minute or two is all it takes. And just like that it will be doubled!

“Compassion counts above all else — more than intelligence, wealth, power or prominence. Those who have it, and extend it to all living beings, fully understand its potential to single-handedly change the world.” ~ Brennan Browne

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. Helping Others. thepongofund.org

#army #navy #airforce #marine #military #veteran #pongo #dog #foodbank #rescue #giveguide #willametteweek #veteransday

(Photo is stock photo and not the actual place where these men lived)

Posted on

Pongo Voodoo

Voodoo Doughnut FB page 11-3-15 12187729_1023910360963188_7772019929062612623_nEvery single day tens of thousands line up for something they can’t get anywhere else. They stand in line. They sit in line. They sleep in line. They even pay others to do it for them.

All for the love of a Voodoo Doughnut​. In the signature pink box. Described by many as a life-changing moment. The Bacon Maple Bar. Captain My Captain. Cock-n-Balls. Voodoo Doll. And more.

And now, for a limited time only, The Pongo Doughnut!

All thanks to the kind and generous and incredibly gifted team at Voodoo Doughnut. But don’t wait, because these Pongo delights will be gone when November becomes December.

But until then both Portland Voodoo locations will be selling these delicious apricot jelly filled “dog-bone” doughnuts (for HUMAN consumption only).

And a portion of the proceeds will go to The Pongo Fund to help continue our work toward the day when no dog or cat goes hungry because their families cannot afford to keep them fed.

One more thing. Every single dollar that Voodoo Doughnut gives to The Pongo Fund will be doubled. How’s that for great!

So eat and enjoy and do it again and again and again. Because in just 26 days they’ll be gone.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. Pongo Voodoo. thepongofund.org

#‎pongo‬ ‪#‎scooby‬ ‪#‎voodoodoughnut‬ ‪#‎rescue‬ ‪#‎donut‬

Posted on

Together We Pongo

Meme Happy Purpose of Life 11698646_10153450140593186_2796008352149686087_nHer sentences arrived together like poetry. It wasn’t intentional. It was just the way she spoke. A woman with many years who remembered a time before texting and tweeting. A time when words were investments. Spoken carefully. Irreplaceable. And she did it beautifully.

Describing the son she had lost years before that still leaves an open hole in her heart. That’s what she said. It was only when I asked a question that I learned the truth.

The son she missed had four legs, not two. And there was never another. Until now.

A friend had passed away. “They all seem to do that, you know?” she said. But this one left behind her son, her dog. And that dog had no one. And that’s why she said she needed to be there for him. But like many of her generation, the money did not meet the need. And the daily cost of caring for her new friend was often beyond her means. And that’s why she turned to The Pongo Fund for help.

But then she needed to move and her new home was not conveniently located for her to get to Pongo. So we went to her. But where she lived, she told us, there were many more just like her that struggled to keep their pets fed.

What about them?

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

So we started with one building housing dozens more like her, delivering to them food and hope regularly. One of our Pongo managers now oversees those deliveries. The amounts change. The delivery days change. But what doesn’t change is that we are there for them when they need us most.

But there were more buildings just like this one throughout the city. Providing stable housing for those that would be homeless otherwise. Hundreds of people with hundreds of pets.

People that face a myriad of physical, financial, mental and emotional struggles daily. Senior citizens. Veterans. Victims of domestic violence. And so much more.

Their pets their only stability. Loved with all the love possible. And they needed help. So we worked to find the way to help these people with their pets that no one else helped.

Despite The Pongo Fund being a tiny tot of an organization we leaped. Because, as the saying goes, leap and the net will appear.

As November kicks off The Pongo Fund has begun the program to reach these wonderful people and pets that had gone unreached before. If they could not get to us we would get to them. We have not named the program yet, but we will.

Because doing it is more important than naming it.

“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” – Leo Buscaglia.

Delivering food and hope to the doorways of our most fragile families. Keeping so many beloved animals safe at home and out of the shelters. Keeping so many families together.

Feeding stomachs and souls like never before. Helping our neighbors. It’s a good feeling.

“It is not how much we give, but how much love we put into giving.” – Mother Teresa

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. Together We Pongo. thepongofund.org

#ThePongoFund #Rescue #Seniors #Helping

Posted on

The Boss

Pierre 10321015_975742179150010_9112552986225857726_oThis is Mr. Pierre. The General Manager of the place where Scooby gets his hydrotherapy. The BOSS. Just like Springsteen. And just like Springsteen, bringing music to the world. Squeaking with joy like a doppelganger plush toy.

He squeaked for me. He squeaked for Scooby. He squeaked happy. But he did not squeak for everyone. Which made his squeaks for us even more special.

He was blind and deaf. But not for us. He watched my every move. He always knew where the treats were and what pocket I kept them in. He had Superman Vision.

And he never met a pocket he could not pick when it came time to find the treats. Oftentimes he did so with such finesse that I didn’t even know he was doing it. He was the ultimate pickpocket. He was stealth. The best ones are.

No sloppy kisses. They were not his thing. No big tail-wagging outbursts. That was for the puppies. Pierre was dignity. To have him sit on my lap made me feel like royalty. And there, together, we would watch Scooby during his hydrotherapy.

That was what we did. It was our ritual.

Sometimes Pierre would be sleeping when we arrived. But his nose would wake up first. He smelled us. He sensed us. And then the squeaks followed. Sometimes starting even before he awoke.

He was squeaking. He was sleeping. He was squealeeping.

He made the rounds like a security guard. Checking things once, twice, three times. And sometimes I’d surprise him and put some special Pierre treats where he’d just been. He’d find them on his next round. And then he’d look at me with that “Thanks, Larry” look that melted me every time. We both liked doing that.

Playing games with Pierre was the best. Sometimes we’d just make them up as we went. I’d do something. He’d do something. Then we’d both crack up and do it again.

Pierre was 15. He was 1000. He looked like a cloud. That makes sense. Because Pierre was always a step closer to Heaven than anyone else. He just was. He was the best.

Rescued by a Mom who gave him what no one else could. Two years of paradise. And I will miss him dearly.

Our hydrotherapy will never be the same without him there to supervise. To sit on my lap and watch Scooby swim. To squeak. To laugh. To pick my pocket. Doing what he did best.

He Pierred. And he did it beautifully.

He leaves behind hundreds of broken hearts. None more so than that of his Mom, Kristin.

But we know we will see him again someday. And maybe just for fun I’ll wear pants with lots of pockets and be sure to fill every one with Pierre treats. I know he’ll crack up over that.

He was one of our best friends. And we’ll love him and miss him forever.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. In Memory Of The Boss.

thepongofund.org
‪#‎rescue‬ ‪#‎Pierre‬ ‪#‎ThePongoFund‬ ‪#‎TheBoss‬

Posted on

Two Cats And A Pair Of Shoes

Cat - Senior Woman--Photo credit Barbara Bates --Montgomery County Animal ShelterNew York. Chicago. Seattle. Portland and more. Two cats on the Lower East Side in New York going hungry. So was the woman who loved them. All of them seniors, two and four-legged alike. So she reached out to The Pongo Fund for cat food.

80+ years old and asking for help. Not for herself. For her kitties. From New York. Why? Because someone at the mission where she gets her meals told her about us. She had no idea where we were or what we did. All she knew is that someone told her we could help. We did.

The single Mom in Chicago has a dog. One dog and lot of kids. Some she birthed and some that came to her when a family member could no longer care for them. The month had been extra tough. The dog food was almost gone. Her caseworker said a little bit of help would make a big difference. She heard about us from someone she met who used to live in Portland. Could we help in Chicago? We did.

Several in and around Seattle needed help too. It’s only 168 miles away. Yes we did.

Closer to home, the woman who finally left her abusive husband was now safe at an Oregon shelter. With a hungry cat and little else. Could we help? Yes. A few more non-cat things too, because we knew they were needed without being said.

The man that stopped by our open door when we were not open. His face showed struggles. And his shoes did too. Toes sticking out. He didn’t need dog food. He just needed a place to sit down for a few minutes. He relaxed with a bottle of water and a banana.

Then he fell asleep in our chairs.

Luckily my shoes were his size. Just simple shoes with really good insoles for comfort. Not fancy by any means. But I had another pair in my car. Now we both had shoes. He didn’t know a thing about The Pongo Fund. That was ok. Being his port in a storm was enough.

So many times we are blessed with the opportunity to help. All of us are. You help. We help. Together we help.

And then just yesterday there was the United States veteran a few hours outside of Portland, Oregon, in desperate need of food for his two dogs. He said “I am in a power wheel chair and we have no car to get to Portland…we are not going to make it…” Imagine that. Such honest words shared with a total stranger.

The fear was real. The words hit hard. Just a few hours later they had their food.

New York. Chicago. Seattle. Portland and more. Just a few of the many.

And this is why we Pongo.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. Doing It Together. thepongofund.org

(Photo is stock image and does not depict anyone in this story — Photo credit: Barbara Bates, Montgomery County Animal Shelter)

#pongo #thepongofund #rescue #petfood #helpers

Posted on

What Is Essential Is Invisible To The Eye

2014-06-08 13.38.17 FB 10-11-15I share Scooby even though he never asked to be shared. He’s private like that. But I love him so much that I want others to get to feel his love too. And I’m pretty sure he’s ok with that.

To meet him, to be in his presence, well, you’d understand. He just brings the LOVE every single chance he can. It runs through his entire body. He bubbles with it. And if you miss it the first time, rest assured that he’ll be back with LOVE: Round 2 a moment later. You just can’t escape the Scoobs.

The photos I share are almost always from my iPhone. It’s an old one, the camera is messed up, some of the functions don’t work. But even when the photos are blurred, Scooby is still perfect to me. And he makes me better. Truly he does. Maybe it sounds goofy, I don’t care. I just love him to the moon and back, again and again and again.

But it’s the way others love him too that sometimes catches me off-guard. Those are the moments that make me wonder who he really is. Like this one.

We were in the park. We stopped to enjoy a sunny moment on the grass. A Mom sat down nearby with her young daughter. Maybe three years old, not sure. Scooby had just completed one of his upside-down rollarounds, scratching his back with gusto for all to see. And this little girl just cracked up. She lifted herself up and scrambled the 15 or so feet to where we were, her Mom was quickly behind her.

And there she stood. Just gazing at Scooby. Scooby gazing back. She sat down and began petting him. She didn’t ask his name. She didn’t need to know. No words. Just pets. First on the head. Then the neck. The back. He rolled over and she continued with his tumtum. This little girl gave pets like a pro. Her Mom watched. I watched. And then I commented on what a lucky dog they must have at home to get this kind of love.

But they didn’t. The Mom said they had no dog, never had. And this was the first time she had seen her daughter pet a dog. My jaw dropped as I watched this little munchkin sweetly caress Scooby’s chin. He had melted completely. The girl continued. How did she know? How did he know? How did these two connect this way, in this moment?

And as the Mom and I watched, this sweet tiny tot began to tell Scooby a story. I could not understand all of the words. But he did. Mesmerized, he listened.

She had no treats for him. He was not glued to her for food. It was just her. He knew she was a good one. That maybe she’s the one that will change the world. The one that will save all the Scooby’s.

The whole thing lasted a few minutes. Other than her words, it was silent. The girl finished her story. She got up to head back to her picnic. Scooby lay motionless. His face flat to the side, his lower jowl so relaxed it completely dropped to the grass below. His tongue hung out sideways. He was smiling.

With eyes half shut, he watched her leave.

Before they were more than a step or two away her Mom asked her what she was saying to “that dog.” The girl said “that wasn’t a dog, that was my friend.”

The Mom turned; we looked at each other with the same expression. The girl danced away.

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” – The Little Prince

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. Moments With Friends. thepongofund.org

Posted on

In Memory of Pongo, Oct. 9, 2015

_MG_4827Pongo passed away today eight years ago. It’s not possible.
I think he’s still here. He was almost 19. He was loved.
He was The Dude. The Man. The Pongo.
The Pongo Fund was born out of that moment.
In his memory we have helped tens of thousands.
Both two-legged and four, near and far.
I miss him. I miss him a lot. I still keep him close.
I have a feeling Scooby knew and loved him too.
Because the great ones, well, they just know.
Forever missed. Forever loved. Forever Pongo.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org

(Photo of Pongo on his 18th birthday)

Posted on

Dirty Hands That Weren’t

Dirty Hands FB 9-27-15Hands that were dirty in a way that wasn’t really dirt. More like the scars of dirt. Stained from days and years before. The kind of dirt that becomes part of the skin no different than the skin.

I was on my rounds in a part of town often overlooked, helping people often invisible. But if you look, you see. They are there.

It was a sunny day but a wet winter is near. Time for an early delivery of sleeping bags, hats, gloves and some super great socks donated by our good friends at Road Runner Sports.

But those hands. I knew the gloves would keep them warm and dry, but they were a sight. And I got a real good look when he extended one of them to shake mine. Because he was of an age when a handshake meant something. We greeted. We spoke.

He said he was ok, but that the items I had should go to someone else that needed them more.

Words he said as he stood there with so little already. I persisted, reminding him that I had more to share with others too. So would he please be so kind as to accept these gifts from me? Yes, he said, yes we would.

The “we” part of his reply included the dog sitting patiently at his feet. Sitting. Standing. Flipping himself upside down for a quick backscratch. Neither was young and they had been together for years. Greeting me was just another part of their day.

After presenting the items I had for him, I presented the items that were for his four-legged friend. And the moment I pulled out the bag of treats this happy dancer dog sat at rapt attention. A sit so flawless that Westminster judges would be proud. He knew that bag was for him.

The man quickly dropped to his knees and carefully opened the treats to gently present one to his friend.

Together they celebrated the moment as one treat seemed to feed them both.

And from that kneeling position he again reached out his darkened hand. One arm extended to shake my hand one last time, his other hand busy giving an excellent and unrushed left-handed belly rub to a dog that he loved.

A man with hands darkened from years of living, busy rubbing the sparkly clean and tender belly of a dog that cared nothing about dirt or stained hands. A dog he kept cleaner than he kept himself.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No,” I said. “It is me that thanks you.”

And this is why we Pongo.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. Thank You Always. thepongofund.org

(photo of hands is stock image and not the hands of the person I met)

Posted on

The Recipe Department

2015-06-09 08.02.00-1--FB 6-9-15I sensed it was a wrong number. She said in a voice heavy with exhaustion that she wanted the recipe department.

I explained we do not have a recipe department, that we are a pet food bank. Did she need help with pet food? She shouted no, she did not need help with pet food.

And to emphasize her frustration she repeated back to me the full sentence of what I had just asked her. Only now her exhaustion sounded more like full blown emphysema.

I wasn’t sure what to do and worried that anything I said was going to make a tense situation even worse. So I asked her what recipe she needed help with. And she said the parfait. I asked her which parfait? And she said the one with goat yogurt and blueberries. For dogs.

And at that moment everything changed.

I told her I worked in the recipe department and would be happy to help. Because I knew the exact recipe she was looking for.

I asked how she heard about the parfait for dogs and she said she was in line somewhere and two women in front of her were talking about it and she thought her dog would like it. She found our number somewhere and now she was calling.

A long time ago I posted about a blueberry parfait I made for Scooby, my almost 21 year-old Beagle/Basset mix. I don’t remember the exact post but the parfait likely had blueberries, strawberries, goat yogurt, almond butter and some other tasty treats all layered together in a parfait dish.

Sometimes I do stuff like that for him, just for fun.

And now here was a woman who knew how to reach us but did not really know anything about us. Nor did she care. Because all she was concerned about was that her elderly dog was not feeling well and she thought a parfait would make him feel better.

But she needed the recipe. So I told her. And as I was telling her the recipe I could sense the frustration in her tone because her current situation would not allow her to go shopping for the ingredients. Meaning this one thing she so desperately wanted for her dog was still out of reach.

So Scooby and I decided that our recipe department should have a delivery department too. That way we could deliver the parfait. Her address said she lived in a very low-income building so I sensed her health was not the only challenge she faced.

She still doesn’t know who The Pongo Fund is or what we do. All she knows is that someone in the recipe department delivered the ingredients to her doorstep so she could make a special parfait for her elderly dog.

Along with the ingredients was a handwritten note explaining how to make the parfait. We also included a bag of yummy treats. And a gift card to an area grocer too.

And another sheet of paper with The Pongo Fund contact information, asking her to call if her dog needed food or vet care.

The Pongo Fund is a pet food bank. The Pongo Fund is a recipe department. And we’re honored to be both.

And this is why we Pongo.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org

(The Recipe Department originally appeared on 6/9/15 and is reappearing today due to many requests)

Posted on

A Birthday Walk. A Birthday Laugh.

2015-08-31 15.02.35 FB 8-31-15A birthday walk. A birthday laugh. I said, “Hey Scoobs, did you hear the one about the Chihuahua and the German Shepherd” and he just cracked up. I never even got to finish. Which is good, since I’d forgotten the punchline. But he laughed huge for me anyway.

That’s just the kind of great friend he is. Laughing at my jokes even when there’s no punchline. At least you get to see him laughing too.

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. Birthday Laughter.

thepongofund.org