When I picked you up last night, I had no idea what I
might be getting in to. What I did know, is that you were desperately in need of a new home, and I could be the person to make that happen. When I arrived I asked about the type of food you were one. Did it have chicken, beef, or lamb in it? She didn't know. She led me to a giant red and white bag in the kitchen. In large red letters, I read clearly the brand "DOG FOOD". Not that there was any brand information on it that I could even find. As I turned the bag over to scan the ingredient list, I began to read, "Corn, corn gluten, corn meal, wheat..." As I finally reached the very bottom of the list I thought I had found what I was looking for. But
all it said was "meat meal". What the hell was that supposed to mean? She said that you eat a lot. "8 cups a day
sometimes", she said. I decided that it just didn't matter, as soon as I got you home, I would start you right away on what I was already feeding my 3 chocolate labradors.
I was warned that you liked to poop and pee....a lot. And that I shouldn't leave you in your crate too long because y
ou'd just poop in there too. I bit my lip and thought to myself about where 8 cups of corn meal might end up throughout a single day. She also warned me about your repeated bouts of diarrhea (vet here we come).
Your eyes lit up when I took you out the door for the first time, and your happy tongue waggled. You seem to be a resilient little pup. As I was nearly dragged to a grassy area so y
ou could relieve yourself, I noticed how thin you were. Your brown coast had lost it's luster, and your hips and ribs protruded out, causing your puppy body to look a bit miss proportioned.
The plan was to pick you up and rush you off to the vet for a health check. The woman assured me that you liked going for a ride. But it took me many minutes and a handful of salmon treats to help to convince you that being in a vehicle was a fun place to be. You were not so convinced. As I shut the top of the canopy, your tiny brown nose tried to squeak through the crack between the canopy and the tail gate. As we drove off, I noticed that your scrawny body was plastered to the floor. I felt terrible for not bringing one of my dog crates for you to lay in. I kept telling myself, that it's only for a short
time, and that it was better to just get this all done now; crate or no crate.
We were early for our vet appointment, so I decided to take you for a short walk at the park to burn off even a little of that nervousness and puppy energy. But you were no match for the leash that came with you. The store brand flexible leash was zipping in and out so fast that it was nearly impossible for me to get the cheap plastic button to stop you before reaching the end. You erratically ran left, then right; snapping the leash each time you came to the end of it. Pop! Pop!
We made one lap of the park (that was all my arm could take with this leash). I'm pretty sure you didn't spend one iota of energy from your youthful stores, but at least you were able to relieve yourself many times over. I remember thinking, "I sure hope he doesn't have a bladder infection". When we were at the park, I finally had a few minutes to look you over. Your eyes looked clear, ears were filthy, nails appeared as though they had never been trimmed, dew claws in place, testicles....just starting to drop, coat feels gross, clumps of hair coming out - needed a brush and a bath badly, skinny...really skinny. But your energy levels were great, and later that night I found out that your appetite was voracious!
When we arrived at Dr. W's office, it took him a minute to realize that you weren't one of my dogs that he had seen before. After all, he sees me with brown dogs on a regular basis. I introduced you to him, and you wiggled and
hopped all over the lobby of the clinic. I told him that we wanted to make sure you were healthy enough to be around the other dogs, and that our goal was to make sure he was happy and healthy enough to find him a new home.
The vet tech knew you! I was happy to hear that I might get some insight to your history, but instead was saddened to hear the sto
ry of your lack of care. Only one set of shots as a pup, and then a few vet visits with bouts of illness of diarrhea and tests for parasites and parvo. Thank God they were all negative. Over the months I had heard of your escapades; Hours on end with your nose in the trash while left out on the patio of an apartment. As a young pup you were left alone in a bathroom, only to shred and ingest the vinyl flooring before eating your way through the bathroom door. The stories poured in during dinner conversation for months. My husband, Chris, told your owner, that if she ever decided to give you up, that he would happily make sure that you were taken care of. For a while, she tried to sell you for money. But that didn't work out either. And now here we were, together, at the vet...learning another part of the story of your life, and the two deceased puppies that once lived in your home prior to your arrival. I learned that you were born in June, and would be about 7 months old. "Ah....just getting ready to enter the teenage years", I thought.
It took a great amount of wrestling to get you still enough to take your temperature. We had to do it twice because it was 106 degrees. Dr. W was straightforward with me. He said you were undernourished and lacked muscle bulk. Probably just the walk around the park, just minutes before our visit, heated you up a great deal. I was instructed to take your temperature later that night, and the next morning. By that evening it had returned to normal. Nevertheless, we were unable to get your shots because of your high temperature. The good news is that your fecal exam was normal and Dr. W cleared your general health to come home with me right away. He patted you on the head and said, "you are a lucky dog'.
I tried to bribe you to get back into the truck, to no avail. No amount of salmon treats were worth that scary endeavor again to you. I finally hoisted you up, and sat with you for a few minut
es before heading home. We both smelled the same kind of bad. Now we both needed a bath. On the way home I swung by to pick up your large wire crate. That was a mistake. I thought maybe I could convince her to let the crate go with the dog. But when I arrived, she insisted I could borrow the crate, but it must be returned. In a hasty decision, I decided to bring it home with us so you might rest more comfortably that night. The crate was empty, with a hard plastic floor. She told me that you don't sleep with a blanket, towel, or bed. Just in the empty crate. I quickly loaded it into the truck and was anxious to get you home and settled in for the night.
At home 6 little eyes, and 3 brown noses peered through the front window as I climbed out of the truck. They watched intently as I opened up the back and hoisted you to the ground. First on our agenda was to b
rush the handfuls of hair from your coat. You wiggled and did a little labrador jig, but then settled down and patiently let me lift the massive tufts of hair from your coat. I kept you on a leash, and we let the other dogs out to meet you. Your eyes lit up and you began to buck like a bucking bronco. I don't know how much experience you had around other dogs, but you were hell bent on having a smashing good time.
Henna, our 7 year old lab, is an excellent pack elder. She let you get away with quite a bit; jumping, spinning, and barking. But when you stepped out of line, she gave you a firm little 'GRRRRRRR' to make sure you knew you had crossed the line of acceptable puppy behavior.
Buddy, is almost 3, and is more than double your size. He wanted to play, but was quickly overwhelmed with your hyperactive energy level, and eventually also informed you of your place in this pack. You picked up the signals quickly, though, and began to approach them all with a little less exuberance each time you greeted them.
The shyest girl in the house is little Mossy. Although you are actually taller than her, she is a solid 10 lbs heavier. She was not about to deal with all this energy this night, and curled up next to her dad on the big chair in the living room. Later, she quietly walked herself down the hall and tucked herself into bed for the night.
With introductions over, and the night coming fast, it was time to get you cleaned up. I took you into the main bathroom, where you willingly climbed into the tub, without bribery, for a bath. Your coat was so coated with oils or grime that I had to wash you twice with flea soap before the water ran clear. You stood in the tub and took it like a champ. When I cleaned your ears, you tilted your head to one side and groaned as massaged in the ear goop. You laid your head on my shoulder when I scrubbed your protruding ribs and checked you all over for any lumps or bumps. I think you actually enjoyed the bath much more than the drying process. When it was time to get out, you managed to slip out of your collar, and ran pell mell through the house. You sure are a wiley little thing!
I set up your freshly sanitized crate in the living room with a blanket and bribed you in with your dinner bowl. You scarfed every last kibble of food and begged for more. You howled, barked, and cried in your kennel looking for attention. But as soon as you were quiet for a few minutes, I would let you out to go potty and give you lots of attention. We repeated this many times until after midnight. Finally, as I turned the lights out for bed, you cried out feebly for a few more minutes before settling down on your blanket and closing your eyes to sleep.
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