Lone Star Boxer Rescue is a nonprofit 501(C)(3) organization dedicated to the health and well-being of the boxer breed. LSBR is run and managed 100% by volunteers since 1999. Our main objective is to rescue, rehabilitate, and re-home boxers that come to us from many sources including local animal shelters, owner surrenders, and strays. Please consider making a tax deductible donation to allow us to save more dogs in need. 

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Today We Rescued Your Dog
by Pat Closher

Today we rescued your dog. We don’t know where you got him from - maybe you saw him
in a pet store window or maybe one of your neighbors bred a few litters a year just to make some vacation money or because they loved their dogs so much that of course they wanted to have puppies. We don’t know much about how you cared for him either, although our vet thought that for such a young dog, his teeth were in pretty bad shape.
Did you know they were going to keep him outside? At least it was a pretty mild winter. There were no heavy snows, not much heavy winter rain and only a few days of bitter cold. But for all of those weeks he had no companionship, no care, and no love.
For some reason, your grandparents took him to the shelter. Maybe a neighbor complained about him or maybe their own health gave out or maybe they just got tired of him. You know the local shelter is a kill shelter, don’t you? You know that their own statistics indicate that about half of the dogs that enter are killed, don’t you?  Maybe your grandparents thought he would be adopted quickly. He is a purebred, after all. No one was interested in him, though, maybe since he’s an adult dog and not a cute little puppy. No one contacted the purebred rescue group either. They probably would have placed him quickly, since he really is a great boy.  The shelter is a clean place and they take good care of the dogs. They get good food and they’re bathed and brushed. It’s still a shelter though, and is noisy and chaotic and frightening. He spent two months there in that confusion, away from everyone and everything he had known.

One day, we saw him on the shelter web site. We called and asked about him. The shelter workers were so happy to hear from us and were delighted to agree to bring him to a local pet store where they do adoptions. Do you want to know why they were so accommodating? He was scheduled to be killed that afternoon. He didn’t know that, but the shelter workers certainly did. It hurt them and he felt that, so he knew something was wrong.  All of a sudden, though, the shelter workers were happy and excited and so was he. They bathed him and brushed his coat. We think they probably told him this was it - his big chance, or maybe he just knew it somehow. When we met him, we all fell in love.

He had to go to the vet to be neutered, of course, but then he came home. He has his very own 13 year-old boy. You know, it’s almost like watching one of those old Lassie movies, seeing how well they’ve bonded. He’s got good food and his own toys. He’s taken on walks three times a day, is regularly groomed and is taken to the vet for needed care. We’ll be with him always, even if we have to make that last, difficult decision, because, you see, he is our dog and we are his family.

He has a good heart you know, but then he is a dog, so that’s to be expected. He’s probably forgiven you and, with a dog’s grace, doesn’t even remember you dumped him. He’d probably even be willing to greet you at the Rainbow Bridge. But you know what? He’ll greet us and go with us at the Bridge, and then he’ll be with us forever, because he’s our dog and we’re his family.
The way we heard the story, you moved out of state and didn’t want to take him with you. You left him at your grandparents. Maybe you thought a lively, handsome dog was just the thing for them, and under better circumstances it might have been. Maybe they have been cleaning up your messes for your entire life and an unwanted dog was just another mess to clean up.
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She was the perfect balance of love, kindness, strength, and courage.

Zima is a flashy brindle female with an incredible will to live. She was rescued from her owner who was about to shoot her for having a broken leg.

Despite being in pain, Zima is full of love and she will muster up the energy from deep inside to get as close as she can so she can lick you then rest her heavy head in your lap. Its a testiment to her character that she can be in such pain and still try her best to please her new friends with a boxer kiss. She is the perfect balance of love, kindness, strength, and courage.

January 27, 2003
Dr. Rosser called... The swelling in her leg is due to cancer. She said it was fully metastasized and it has most likely spread into her lungs. Both of the Vets had looked at her and spoken with Sharon and all of were in agreement that the best thing for Zima would be to put her to sleep.

I went to be by her side as she left her pain behind and started her journey to the rainbow bridge.

I sat down with her and she came over and leaned on me again. I told her that we were about to make the pain go away and she raised her head and licked my face then she rested her head on my shoulder. You would have thought that we knew each other our whole lives.

Later on as I sat in my car waiting for the tears to come and wondering why they weren't I could have sworn I felt a big strong boxer paw on my shoulder and some very enthusiastic boxer licks all over the side of my face. Perhaps she hung around for a few minutes to say... "Look, no more pain... thank you!"

I only knew her for a day but I know she will come running up to see me when I get ready to cross the bridge.
-- Jon Winters

A donation to Lone Star Boxer Rescue has been made in loving memory of Zima.

LSBR Archive - 2003

Ziva (formerly Raven)
To live is to die... I saw that extremely applicable graffiti on the side of a building on the way home from saying goodbye to this girl. She was timid and always a little scared, except when faced with a hissing opossum when she was A Big Brave Dog. She demanded attention, but not too much— just the right amount, or she’d take herself to the other room. She was always hungry, and would remind you it was time for dinner (or, an hour till dinner) by a series of high-pitched, plaintive cries— to remind us she was about to starve to death. She’d cry the same way if we tried to sleep in ‘too late’ on a weekend. Her brother loved her fiercely and she was patient and tolerant of his kisses and need to be touching her, just a little, when they were on the couch together. She was picky and particular and could be a mighty pain in the ass. I will miss her so much. I’m glad she let us hang out with her for seven years. #ZivaTheDiva

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