The Dog I Left Behind

Saturday, May 17th, 2008

Spring is here. It's been raining for days, and the backyard is one big mud puddle. We no longer own a truck, so I borrow my brother's Ford pick-up and head out for a rural seed and feed store to buy straw. The place I go is out in the country, a man I've known for years. He always has a least a dozen dogs on chains all over the property. The dogs are a kind of alarm system for him.

"They let me know when someone's around," he says. "People out here will try an' rob you."

I hate it, of course. But he's not breaking any laws, so there's not much I can do about it. I try to educate him about chained dogs, talk him into reducing the numbers. He usually doesn't much care to listen. Today is different.

"You still doing runnin' that dog thing?" Yes, I tell him. "I got a coupla dogs I need to get rid of. You wanna rat terrier? Or how 'bout that dog there?" He points to a, Aussie mix on a six foot chain. "I could probably take him," I answer. I approach the dog who immediately drops to his belly. I won't mention being a pug rescue. These are not pugs, but I'm happy to get any dogs out of this situation. He loads my dozen bales and throws a 5y/o rat terrier in the cab. I tell him I'll drop off my load and be back with the van for the aussie.

When I come back, I head to the shed where the "office" is. I notice several cages of chickens, but behind them, almost out of sight, is a sad little beagle pup in a rusted wire dog crate. She's been there awhile - several piles of feces and moldy food litter the floor. I'm in trouble and I know it.

"You're selling the beagles, right?" I ask. "I tell you what," he says, "I jus' wanna get rid of 'em. Make me an offer." Ten dollars each? "Sold." I see two others in cages or on chains throughout the property. It turns out there's a third I didn't see. I open my wallet and find only thirty. Then I remember the emergency twenty-dollar bill I keep hidden behind my driver's license, just in case. I dig it out and hand it over. Forty dollars and I'm loading them into the van. We go back for the aussie mix, and cannot get the collar off. "You'll prob'ly have to cut it off." I agree, and we tie him in the van with the massive collar still tight around his neck.

"I need to get rid o' that one, too." He points down the hillside. At first, I see nothing. Then there it is - a dog chained in a circle of dirt beside a makeshift doghouse. She's filthy - a tangled, matted black and white ball of fur. "What kind of dog is she?" I ask. Border collie and aussie? Two years old? Yes, I can see it now.  I approach her - she's spooked and backs away. I see a white dot in her right eye. A scar? Infection? Can't tell from here. She's bigger than the other dogs, although she's probably much smaller under the unkempt coat. I remind myself that I do not have the facilities for another bigger breed animal at my home. My first obligation is to the charges already in my custody. The man is holding one of my beagles and extends the pup toward the chained dog, whose name is Sissy. Sissy pulls against the chain, tail wagging, to touch noses with another of her kind. I steel myself and tell him I cannot take her, but I will take some pictures of her and see if I can find help for her. I leave with six dogs, and only photos of Sissy.

At home, it takes Kevin about thirty minutes of cutting in small notches to get the heavy collar off Bocephus, the aussie mix. It's so tight, he slides a piece of plastic under the knife to prevent an accidental nick. The dog's neck is raw and abraded. We photograph the injuries. The six new dogs smell like chicken coops. All are bathed, then let outside to play. We have spread fresh straw in the yard. It's a beautiful day, 72 degrees and they run and tumble in the warm sunshine. They approach me shyly, tentatively. They kiss my hand. Thank you, and thank you. I know that all the trials that lie ahead, the nighttime barking, the housetraining setbacks, the personality conflicts, long trips to the vet and back...I know that all of these things are worth this moment. Watching them play.

Sunday, May 18th

I wake early, but the first dog I think about is not one of the new arrivals.

I feed the rescue dogs, and ours, as well, throw in a load of laundry, freshen all the water bowls, stroke their heads, settle disputes, administer medications, treats and toys - another day in the life. And somewhere out there, not running, not playing, not knowing what a toy is, or a bath, or a special treat just for her, is another dog.

Sissy. The dog I left behind.

I am so tired - both physically and emotionally. I have too many charges now. They eat up my life. Adoptions are slow, and people expect so much from animals who've been neglected and thrown away with the corn husks and coffee grinds. Sometimes I want to shake these self-centered humans. I want to say, "We did this to them! Don't you feel any obligation here? Can't you overlook a chewed shoe or puddle on the floor? Can't you give them at least as much time to recover as it took to do this to them?"

Still, I want badly to make room for one more.

Tomorrow, I will make veterinary appointments, hoping we can get all six surgeries done quickly. I'll call and email my rescue friends trying to find someone with space for one more dog. Can anyone help? I'll offer to get her and help transport her to any rescue with an opening. I know my chances are slim to none. There are thousands of chain dogs just like her waiting for someone to care. But I'll try. And I'll hope for enough adoptions this week to make room for one more here at my home.

Hang in there, Sissy. I want to help you. I won't forget you. I'll keep trying. Hang in there.

EPILOGUE

I posted this to every rescue I knew and asked them to crosspost it in hopes of finding someone to take Sissy. I received over 100 emails in return, including a dozen offers from rescues offering to make space for our girl. Thanks to the overwhelming efforts and concern of so many people, Sissy has been rescued and is currently chain-free and enjoying indoor living. I received the following from our wonderful friends at Follow Me Home Rescue:

Hello!  I'm Sue Rhoades from Follow Me Home Animal Rescue in Missouri.  I just wanted to let you know that Sissy is happy and snoozing in my daughter's room right now.  She's been smiling ever since we've had her.  Tail wagging, trotting around enjoying all the smells and sounds of a normal home.  She has fallen in love with my 12 year old daughter.

 

We received a donation from Paws New England today to help with her care.  Sissy has no ticks or fleas that we can find, and we've looked -- she appears to have been well fed, although not with any hard food or anything to chew on.  She had pork chops for dinner tonight, Elisa's mom couldn't help making her some, and Sissy ate THREE of them! 

 

We took that horrible collar off her and scratched her and rubbed her underneath, I think her eyes rolled back into her head!  She has a new red collar on and looks every bit like a happy, healthy pup except for the fact that she needs a trip to the bathtub.

 

We will keep you posted on her progress, we are sure she will come around quickly, she listens well and loves to be petted and eat cookies.

 

Thank you for saving Sissy -- if it weren't for her story being posted, she'd still be on a chain.  We are taking her out to the rescue tomorrow to meet the other pups and play in the field.  She will NEVER have to be on a chain again!

 

Sue Rhoades & Elisa Sandvoss, Follow Me Home Animal Rescue

I guess this story has a happy ending after all.