The Hard-Knock Life of a Throw-Away Dog

                If you know me at all, you know that I have a bleeding heart that would make Mother Theresa proud (when it comes to dogs). I love their friendship, their loyalty, their willingness to play, and their inability to hold a grudge. I’ve been privileged to take in several dogs so far during my lifetime, but it never ceases to break my heart when I realize that there are so many more dogs that I can’t help. For every one I take in, I’m sure there are ten or twelve more that need good homes.  I call them throw-away dogs because someone did just that. I’ve seen pups that have been starved, shot, neglected, and beaten. I’ve watched those same pups turn into fantastic dogs…friends for life…with just regular meals and a healthy serving of love. 

                Hannibal Hayes was my first throw-away dog. I remember meeting him for the first time at a church dinner. Someone had thrown him out around the church. As far as many of the congregation were concerned, the puppy that was roaming around outside was a nuisance. One of them even told me to stay away from him because he had rabies (or something). I guess, even as a four or five year old, I wasn’t very trusting, so I asked my mom what was wrong with the puppy. Mom told me that the dog was starving.

                As it happened, we were having a dinner that night, and everything on my plate became food for the throw-away dog. He came home with me that night (despite the fact that it was in the early eighties, and everyone was poor), and I was introduced to taking care of my first throw-away dog.

                He was small and neglected, but we found out he was largely, if not fully, Catahoula Cur. (Catahoulas have remained one of my favorite breeds of dog because of Hannibal Hayes.) He started out as a small puppy and grew into a dog that was nearly waist high on a five-foot-nine inch tall person. He was huge, but he was gentle and protective and all of the best things.

                Hannibal Hayes would hold anyone's hand...in his mouth...while they were outside because I’d led him around by a stick held the same way. If you didn’t hold a stick, he held your hand. He guarded the house, running off prowlers and played gently with me and other kids.  To this day, I don’t know why someone threw him away.
                When I was in college, Angel was found in Tulsa, running scared. She was a mix. She might have been a bit Blue Heeler; she might have been Catahoula. (Who knows for sure?) She had that kind of coloring. A friend of my dad’s found her but couldn’t keep her because she needed more space to run.  Believe me; she needed the space to run.

                Angel would ricochet off the back of the couch. I don’t know how, but that dog could run almost parallel to the floor. She would run around and around the house. I’m not sure what she was excited about, maybe just that she was loved. She was so crazy that we called her “Wild Dog”. She chewed books and shoes and toys, and she loved to be brushed.
                Like all dogs, she aged. When I came home and found her dead, I was broken. She’d been a good friend to me, gone on walks with me, and taken care of me for years. I had to move her out of the house, but I could never put her in a trash bag or something old and torn up, so I picked my brand new beach towel to wrap around my Angel so I could transport her to her graveside. You know she deserved so much more, but I couldn’t have wrapped her in anything less.

                Not too long after I lost Angel, my sister brought me a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. She is an AKC register-able, furry ball of sunshine, but she is also a throw-away dog. Her name is Pumpkin. She guards grocery bags and tries to chase chickens and lets me dress her in puppy clothes. Actually, she loves the puppy clothes, and she will try to prevent you from taking her clothes away. She plays a loud, growly game that nobody understands (except her). She guards grocery bags with food from the cat and other dogs, but she’s not really big enough to actually do any damage if she needed to. She also guards my rice-filled heat pack, and she’s my baby.

                She was abandoned with two others at their groomer who passed them on to a friend of my sister’s who worked until she found good homes for all three. When my sister found out about the little darlings, she asked if she could have Pumpkin for me. When she brought Pumpkin to me, I wasn’t fully expecting it. I tell my sister that Pumpkin is the best present she never bought me.  For the life of me, I can’t understand how anyone could abandon that sweetie-peach. She’s got the best personality, and she’s travel sized!

This is Pumpkin, my very spoiled CKCS. (Update: Pumpkin passed away in March of 2014 after a struggle with injury, heart disease, and other illness. Our vet tried and tried to save her. Hardly a month in six had gone by that he hadn't seen her, but in the end, she passed gently, quietly, and heartbreakingly in her sleep.)

                That brings me to Bridget. Bridget was found in the woods, covered in ticks, starving, with injuries from bird shot and a broken leg. And, oh yes, she was guarding her brother’s body. She was taken to a local rescue then turned over to a local veterinarian.

                When I picked Bridget up, she was sweet and gentle, but she was wearing a splint and still had a swollen place from the bird shot wound. She was also severely emaciated…even though she had gained weight since being rescued. I sincerely doubt that she could have lived much longer on her own.
                She had to go to weekly vet appointments and have her splint checked and re-wrapped. (Her veterinarian taught my sister and I how to wrap it, just in case Bridget messed it up or slipped out of it.) It took Bridget about six weeks of care, but she is out of the splint and working on gaining more weight (still).

                Over the past few weeks (since she’s been out of the splint), I’ve watched an almost timid dog metamorphosize into a very active bird dog. She’s stubborn, but smart. She’s playful and wants attention all of the time. She's very friendly and loving, and she'll wrap her paws around your arm to keep you close. 

                 No, I don't understand why people do the things they do, and I can't tell you why dogs don't hold grudges. I CAN tell you that some of the best dogs that I've ever had are throw-away dogs. I won't say not to purchase a dog, but I am a big fan of adopting. So, adopt a dog if you can. Yes, sometimes they have bad habits, and sometimes you have to work with them to overcome those habits. However, it's worth the trouble. 

Bridget's first day with me. Look at how sad and thin she was. Below you can see her progress beginning in the summer of 2013 through the spring of 2014. She's changed a lot.