Jake was finally able to forward some specific information regarding Solha’s journey to Virginia.

Apparently, she’ll fly to the rescue agency in another part of Afghanistan, where she will be given a full health check, a rabies shot, parvo/distemper shots, and treatment for fleas and worms.  She will then have to spend a minimum of 30 days at the shelter — translation: 30 days less I have to spend by myself with a potential Kujo (yeeehaaw! is that bad? is it?) — to ensure her rabies shots are legal before she enters the United States.   (Did I mention that’s 30 days less I have to spend with a potential Kujo?)

The cost of the rescue must be paid up during this 30 day transition period. If all of her funds are in place — which they are — she will fly to the United States soon after.

The rescue agency also asked that Jake check out Solha’s back end to find out whether she’s in heat.  I’m not exactly sure what he’d be looking for….though I guess blood, right? If it turns out Solha is pregnant — which explains why she’s been scaling fences and running away recently — her rescue will be delayed another 3 months during which they’ll spay her (with Jake’s permission) to prevent a litter of unwanted puppies from being born.

Not sure how I feel about adding to Afghanistan’s feral dog population, or shipping a pregnant dog to the United States, for that matter, so I prefer she gets spayed whether she’s pregnant or not.

I’ll be honest.  As eager as I am for Solha to join our family, I’ve been losing sleep over how the next few months will play out.

If she does get to come home, and it’s still a big IF, how am I supposed to handle a semi-wild dog capable of busting out of any enclosure  by myself with a toddler underfoot?  Neither June or Solha are yet potty trained, and, oh yeah, one of them is potentially pregnant (hint: it’s not June).  I have no idea how Solha will react around a toddler who may pull her tail….or how Solha will behave around chickens….or our neighbors’ baby goats…or me, for that matter.

Did I mention our yard isn’t fenced? And we live along a fairly busy, twisting rural highway? And that our precious dogs Junebug and Cowboy  met their ends along this treacherous highway?   I’ll have to accompany Solha every time she ventures outside….with June as my sidekick. The thought of walking both along this highway….well, it’s just not going to happen.

I wish Solha was coming home with Jake, not several weeks before.  I think they call this, “taking one for the team.”

All I have to go on is Jake’s assurances, his insistence that Solha will make a “great family dog.”

Then again, this is also the man who deliberately let our car run out of gas during a road trip so he could experience the thrill of coasting into a gas station.  He also once toppled a four-wheeler with me on the back then had the gall to say as I stood screaming and wailing that “What? It isn’t a big deal.”….and he once got horned in the face by a bull…and set a broken finger with a sanitary napkin and a popsicle stick…and…

Oh, crap.  I am doomed.

He’s sending home Kujo.

See that thing sprouting from the top of June’s head?  I call it The Crown Pony and I can’t for the life of me do it myself.

Oh, I’ve tried.  I’ve tried gathering June’s hair into a nascent pony tail, tying it with a cute little bow, but her 18-month old strands are as soft and delicate as corn floss.  Hair falls limp from my fingers like  threads of silk.  A pony tail at this age is simply not possible.

But then I go to pick her up at her babysitter’s house and June is sporting not one, but two perfectly sculpted Crown Ponies — or Crown Pigtails, if you will, each one tied with a pretty pink or purple bow.

All that’s missing from this dreamy girl visual is a Strawberry Shortcake party dress, a tea pot and maybe some plastic scones.

“How the–?”  I ask.

Her babysitter — a.k.a “Ma Maw”  – has some experience with little kids.  She is able to effortlessly gather a fistful of June’s hair into a tiny rubber band and top it with a ribbon in like 22 seconds flat, while ironing Pa Paw’s shirts with her free hand.  And more astonishing is that JUNE DOESN’T MOVE A MUSCLE while Ma Maw does this.  June sits silently on the counter, eyes wide and tight lipped, frozen not with fear (I hope) but with expectation;  it’s like she knows Ma Maw is making her look so purty.

So Ma Maw is no longer just my babysitter — she’s my personal hair dresser as well.   It’s gotten to the point where if June and I have an event, such as going over to the neighbors’ house for dinner, I’ll gesture to my own hair and say something like, “Can you do that thing with her hair again?  The crown pony? It’s just so pretty.”

Today, crown pony.  Tomorrow, corn rows.

 Here is Solha resting on Jake’s bed, covered in cuts and bruises from her latest outing.   She seems to be recuperating okay…

…except for the four farts she cut, stinky enough to practically scorch the sheets, causing Jake to flee his own room.

She’s not too bothered by it, obviously.

I love this picture.

Solha escaped from her pen right before she was scheduled to ship out.

Jake went to fetch her one morning and she was gone.  Gone again.  Gone for the fourth (or fifth) time?

No enclosure can contain this dog. She can scale an 8-foot high fence bent inward like makeshift razor wire using no dog house or prop as a springboard.

The obvious question here is, why do we even want a dog who can’t be contained?  I put this question to Jake as soon as he told me of her escape. Is this not the universe’s way of signaling, GUYS, THIS IS NOT THE DOG FOR YOU. GIVE IT UP ALREADY.  SHE BELONGS IN AFGHANISTAN.  Jake was so torn up about it, like he had failed her.  He said he knows in his heart she will make a fine companion if we can just get her home.

“Please do not worry about those things,” he wrote in an email.  ”She will love June to pieces.  She will be a good fit for our family.”

I have no choice but to trust him.  He’s never steered us wrong with animals in the past.  All of our dogs have been loving, attentive and obedient. And besides, how do you refuse a soldier’s one wish?  Jake is busting his butt over there.  He’s been separated from his baby daughter for nearly a year and all he wants is to bring this dog home — who am I to refuse him?

Solha rendered the question moot.

“This country is tough, and this has been the story in Afghanistan,” Jake wrote.  ”Just when you think you are making some progress, you take a hard gut shot.  This one hurts a little more, but I have to keep after it.  Please say a prayer that I find her.”

I, meanwhile, had nearly $3,000 of strangers’ money sitting in a PayPal account to fund Solha’s journey to the United States.

Saturday, the day her plane was scheduled to leave, came and went.   Jake spent the day hanging around the depot, cleaning her shipping crate, making it look brand new, looking out for a little dog to come bounding his way.  There was no sign of her.   He said he couldn’t talk about it.  Food  held little appeal. The timing could not be worse.   I’m not sure Jake realizes this but Tuesday — January 31 — marks the one year anniversary of our beloved Cowboy’s death.  I know Jake can’t help but see a little of his old, faithful dog in her.

And then I received an email from Jake this morning, saying that he found her.  A miracle.  It was a short email.  Only a few sentences.  He said he found her covered in cuts and bruises, like she’d been attacked.   She’s stiff and in pain from her injuries, and has been prescribed Amoxicillin.

The rescue agency seemed unfazed by all of this — her escape, her recovery; business as usual in Afghanistan.  They indicated they might be able to put her on a future flight.  In the meantime, Jake said he’s going to try to keep her in his room at night until it’s time to go.

“It’ll be a miracle if this dog makes it home,” he wrote.  I have to agree.

Thanks again to everyone who’s been following this story, and trying to fund the journey.

Yesterday June and I paid a visit to our town’s latest confectionary offering, a premium frozen yogurt outlet called Sweet Frog.  It reminded me of Pinkberry, the “fro-yo” emporium located in trendy urban areas like West Hollywood and Soho that tends to attract a lot of lithe, lean women wearing Lululemon tops and carrying yoga mats.   Sweet Frog, on the other hand, is adjacent to a Subway in a gas station selling tall boys and rifle magazines with a life size horse out front.

Despite the incongruous location (fro-yo and rifle magazines?), Sweet Frog is a hit.  We live in a town where, until now, there was nowhere for a female to get her Girl Food fix.  I define Girl Food as any purportedly low-fat, low-cal, “healthy” food that fosters the illusion you can eat a ton of it and not gain weight.  Frozen yogurt, low-fat muffins, vanilla rice milk, fat free cookies, even egg white omelets and quiche fall under this category (the latter two, because most men wouldn’t be caught dead eating it).

Sure enough, when June and I walked in, every table was full of women — attractive, healthy co-eds decked out in workout wear like they’d just come from the gym and were now rewarding themselves with vats of swirly dessert studded with chopped Snickers and pulverized malt balls.  But it’s okay ’cause frozen yogurt is healthy, see?  This is the Girl Food mindset in action.

The business model behind Sweet Frog is pretty brilliant since it’s all do-it-yourself.  You select the size of bowl you want, which appeared to range from large to drum-size, then swirl your own treat from one of four to five dispensaries lining the wall.  Flavors range from New York Cheesecake to Cappucino to Mango, and you can mix as many flavors as you want.

June and I dispensed ourselves a “small” serving of peanut butter and macademia.

The DIY toppings bar is equipped with a handy sneeze guard like you find at the Golden Corral.  The bar, which extends from the dispensaries to the cash register, is organized by health — it begins with bright rainbow colors (chopped berries and fruit)

and ends in a palette of brown; crushed Oreos and Butterfinger dust.

The flow of the toppings bar is designed to make you load up.   There’s no reason to refuse blueberries and strawberries ’cause they’re so healthy.  And then you reward yourself for making such healthy choices by dumping on a handful of smashed  Kit Kat bars near the cash register.  Again, Girl Food in action.

Cost is determined by weight. This small serving with three toppings cost $4.50…which isn’t that outrageous, until you consider that  a bucket size bowl must set you back $7-$12.  Herein lies the genius of the business model — you have no idea how much it costs until it’s too late.   And a good percentage of the ladies in there seemed to be super sizing it because, hewing to Girl Food logic, frozen yogurt is healthy, therefore it’s okay to eat your weight of it.

June and I enjoyed our dessert, though I will say I thought it lacked real yogurt’s (or even Pinkberry’s) characteristic tangy, sour flavor. Which made me wonder if Sweet Frog is technically yogurt at all. The website says nothing about “live and active cultures,” which real yogurt must contain.   I suspect all beneficial bacteria has been obliterated during processing, making Sweet Frog more of an ice-cream or even Dairy Queen-like dessert.

As for whether Sweet Frog will inflict ice cream-like damage to your waist line, the company conspicuosly advertises calorie counts and serving sizes  next to the cash registers.  I couldn’t help but notice that a serving size is measured in grams. Most Americans have no concept what a gram is, making their bid for transparency seem a bit like sleight of hand.

A serving of Sweet Frog is 83 grams, or roughly 3/4 of a cup, which is 100 calories.  A half cup of ice cream is around 125 calories. Not a huge difference.

Still, Sweet Frog just seems healthier than ice cream, and that ultimately what Girl Food is all about:  perception.

Hope to have info by end of day today.

UPDATE 1/29/12: Jake has been conspicuously quiet since Friday so I still don’t know what’s going on.

Wow, I just checked my PayPal account and nearly shot Gevalia out my nose when I saw we have raised $2,863.86 in a day and a half, making Solha the most expensive dog we will ever own (and she hasn’t even been to an American vet yet).

Nowzad quoted us a price of $2,500 “plus in country costs” to ship her home. Not exactly sure what those additional “in country costs” are, but Jake and I will cover it, whatever they end up being.

To all you dog lovers and troop supporters out there, THANK YOU again for your time, generosity, compassion and donations. We are praying for a happy ending to this story.  Our aim is to give this little stray a great dog life, filled with love, exercise, companionship and, considering her serious fence scaling abilities, agility training. (Look for Solha in the next USDAA championship.)

I’m going to ask that no more donations are made until I receive instructions from Jake for how to proceed. If you would still like to show your support for Nowzad, which rescues stray and abandoned animals in war torn countries, feel free to make a direct contribution to them here.

As always, stay tuned…

THANKS AGAIN!

We’re getting word that Solha will likely be transported from Jake’s base to a larger Afghan city this weekend.  From there, I don’t have information regarding the remainder of her journey.  Not sure how long it will take, the route, or in what conditions she will be kept (though I do know Jake is supplying the crate she will fly in). I have no choice but to assume that because a dog rescue agency is handling this, Solha will be transported safely and humanely.  I don’t even know what US airport she will be flying into!  Everything is very much in flux at this point, but it seems all but certain Solha will be in Virginia months before Jake.

We held off soliciting donations for Nowzad until we were certain this rescue could happen. So even though this rescue may seem last minute — she could be airborne as of Saturday! — know that Jake has been laying the groundwork for months.

I’ll be sure to keep you posted as details emerge.  We’re still not there with our financial goals, but THANK YOU, everyone, who has contributed so far to this rescue.  We are getting close!  I am consistently amazed by the generosity of (mostly) strangers…and grateful to know that such compassionate, caring and superior people who probably also have great hair read this blog.

Stay tuned…

UPDATE:  The fundraiser is over. We have reached our financial goals. If you would still like to make a donation toward rescuing animals in war torn countries, please donate to the animal rescue agency Nowzad directly.  They need all the help they can get.  Thank you!