Free to Good Home

Ask and ye shall receive…Last week was a busy week and I didn’t get a chance to sit down and write my column until this morning - two hours before the deadline. I had nothing, nothing at all to write about. Just as I started to write about how I had nothing to write about – a topic columnists are only allowed to use once in a blue moon – there was a big hoopla at the front door with my dogs sounding more than an adequate alert.

There on the porch was a friendly, but clearly lost, hot and confused Pomeranian. I went out and he ran away, but came back when I called. He was in good shape, nicely brushed and obviously well-cared for. He was definitely someone’s dog who, based on the leaves and twigs stuck to his belly, had wriggled out from under his fence.

Great! I thought, and not in a happy way - a column topic and an animal rescue – both at the same time. Just what I need!

As lost dogs often are, this little fellow was unsure whether he wanted to come to me or keep running down the street in that frantic way a dog who is lost and is trying to get home, but has no idea where home is, runs – usually right into traffic.

As he made the decision to go for it and headed towards Broad Street, my neighbor came out and joined me in running down the street, whistling for the dog, hoping he’d stop before he hit the busy downtown traffic.

Thankfully, he liked her more than me, as he came right back to her and let her pick him up. Once he calmed a little, he was okay with me carrying him back to my house, where he lapped up a bowl of water and tried, but failed, to calm down. I guess Pomeranians are a high strung breed…

I have unruly four dogs who are poorly trained (all rescues – some animals can spot a sucker from a mile away) so complex traffic control issues arise when an animal in need of help crosses our path. After all these years (and countless rescues) Mr. Clark is used to the drill and has no problem sharing his home office with whatever animal we’re aiding next, so up to Mr. Clark’s office with goes this little guy, as I head out to the vets offices to post “Found Dog” notices. I also called animal control and WIMO about him, and made a makeshift sign to stick out front…Surely, his owner(s) will come home and discover him missing soon, I thought, as the time that was supposed to be going to my column slipped away…

Fortunately, the folks at The Barrow Journal are forgiving with regard to column deadlines, so, with a bit of a time extension, here I sit, sequestered in my home office with my four dogs typing away, while Mr. Clark and the little guy upstairs bond, enough, we hope, for him to stop yipping…

Columns, like found dogs and so much of life, are often a surprise. I sit down with one set of expectations, only to have something completely different turn up. Sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes it results in a bunch of scrambling around and mopping up to do…Sentences that were misconstrued…Animals whose owners never show up…

My most surprising rescue was the elderly, blind, really stinky poodle I actually sent Mr. Clark to retrieve, after I’d seen her shivering, clearly beside herself with fear in a cage at animal control, during one of my visits there to shoot a “Pet of the Week” picture for another paper some years ago.

“We can’t just leave her there!” was my cry. “She’s so old and scared and blind...Nobody’s going to adopt her.” And, so “Blind Dog” or “Beezer,” as we called her, became a part of our lives. I tried to give her away twice and both times she bit the person I gave her to as soon as they got home. I guess “Blind Dog” knew where she belonged and that turned out to be with us for the remaining few years of her life.

“Beezer” had been abused and had several broken bones that hadn’t healed right, so she couldn’t walk very well. She couldn’t see at all and no matter how many baths I gave her, she always smelled bad. She didn’t like being left alone, so we carried her around the house (and when we went out) in a back pack. The other dogs never even barked at her; I guess they agreed with us about how pitiful she was…

“Blind Dog” loved French fries and hamburgers, so one of our frequent trips with her was to the drive through…I even took her to Colorado with me once, to visit family. I put a little pink scarf around her neck and she smiled her wide crooked-toothed smile at everyone she couldn’t see as she rode through the airport in her backpack on my back.

If you had told me (or Mr. Clark) we would not only rescue, but fall in love with a stinky, old, blind poodle we had to carry everywhere, we wouldn’t have believed you. But, life, like columns and found dogs, is full of surprises…Now, if you know of anyone missing a red Pomeranian, please, send them our way!