Peppermint Taking a Nap

So it has been an eventful Christmas – New Year’s Holiday here at the Weathers household. Things didn’t work out how we planned, but we’re hanging in there, and the ride has ultimately turned out fun after all.

Every year, Melinda and I both take off the week of Christmas and the week of New Year’s Day. This year our vacation started after we both left work on Friday, December 19. Saturday, we enjoyed our first day of the break by taking Doobie to the dog park and then doing some last minute Christmas shopping at Fry’s Electronics store followed by some tasty gluten-free pizza at a Pepperoni’s Pizza in Duluth.

Also, on Saturday, we finally managed to get salt delivered for our house’s water filtering system. It turned out that thanks to a tripped wire, our system had not run through its cycle for several months. So in addition to filling up the salt in the tank, the tech guy set the system to run that night.

Despite being on vacation, we couldn’t quite shake the habit of getting up early for work, so Melinda and I woke up around eight on Sunday. We went downstairs, and I made us some breakfast and coffee at which point it became clear that the initial run of our water filter system after months of disuse had left the water in our pipes tasting funny. In fact, the taste was unpleasant enough that we poured out our coffees.

But Melinda definitely needs her coffee in the morning despite not really drinking the stuff much until I came along. So it fell upon me to run out for some emergency coffee orders. The plan was a quick drive to the Starbucks that sits a few intersections down from our neighborhood on Windy Hill Road. Since they have a drive-thru window, I wouldn’t even have to get dressed! Thus, garbed in a bathrobe and a simple coat, I set off on my short trip – it turned out to be shorter than either of us thought it would be.

As I came to a stop at the entrance to my subdivision, I recognized one of my neighbors Lisa standing out in the grassy median on Windy Hill. She owns a golden retriever mix named Lacy who is often at odds with Doobie when they encounter each other on walks through the neighborhood. Lisa appeared to have Lacy sitting beside her. For a confused second, I thought that it was a rather cold morning to be taking a walk and that doing so in the middle of Windy Hill wasn’t the best idea. I then realized that Lisa wasn’t holding a leash and that the dog was definitely not Lacy – in fact, it appeared to be a mostly white female pit bull.

I was instantly reminded of the awful night on October 10, 2007 when Bodie had escaped and been killed by a car on Windy Hill. I knew that I had to make sure that the same thing didn’t happen to this scared dog that my neighbor was trying to help.

Nerves mounting, I stepped out of the car into the cold morning air in my bathrobe and inadequate coat. I must have looked rather amusing in retrospect. Lisa had a small dog-treat and was trying to calmly lure the pit bull to within collar-grasping reach. The dog wasn’t buying it though as she was obviously scared, sitting in the median just out of reach and howling in fear.

I spoke with Lisa and she informed me that she had been coming home on Windy Hill and seen the dog out there. Knowing that it would likely get hit out there, she had come back to the road with a treat and her dog Lacy’s leash in hopes of catching the dog before it could get hurt.

At about that time, another neighbor in his car pulled up behind my car and got out to help me. I noticed that some cars were coming and the dog was looking a little jumpy. She started to walk out into the road, and I felt a rush of panic. I stepped out into the road to try to stop traffic and thankfully my neighbor joined me. Together, we stood in each of the lanes on our side of the road and directed cars safely around the scared dog as Lisa calmly lured her back to the safety of the median with the treat.

By now, a few other neighbors had come out of their houses to see what was the commotion was. Lisa asked one of them to call Animal Control, but I urged against this idea. During my experiences in helping Ramses the pit bull reunite with his owner, I had learned that our country has a policy of euthanizing pit bulls that are handed over to Animal Control after the legal five days period during which an owner can attempt to reclaim. The reason is that because of the breed’s (unjust) bad reputation, they are not considered adoptable and so they are killed to make room for other animals.

As I was sharing this information with my neighbors, I was pleased to see a Smyrna policer officer arrive on the scene. My neighbors and I had been doing a fair job at directing the limited traffic up until then, but it’s definitely more reassuring that people will stop when there’s a police car and an officer in uniform standing there. Shortly after the officer arrived, one of my neighbors managed to distract the pit long enough for Lisa to grab its collar and hook her up to the Lacy’s leash. The dog tried to bolt in fear, but we had her now and led her into the safety of our neighborhood.

The officer said that he was going to call Animal Control, but I made a quick decision and explained to him that it wasn’t necessary because if no one else could do it, my wife and I could take the dog back to our yard and try to find its rightful owners. I told him why I didn’t wish to see the dog go to Animal Control and he acknowledged that I was correct. He said that he was an animal lover as well and that if I was prepared to take the dog back to my house that he was fine with that.

So I drove back home to give Melinda the unpleasant news while Lisa graciously followed on foot with the dog. When I stepped back inside the house with a grim look on my face, I told Melinda: “I’m back without the coffee… And you’re not going to be happy.” I then told her what had happened at which point you could see the mild panic in Melinda’s eyes as she reiterated like a protective ritual chant the fact that “We are a one dog family!” I tried to reassure her that I did not intend for this dog to become dog number two, but that I could not let it be put to death for the crime of being a stray pit bull.

After a few moments of discussion, we decided that I would get to work on doing all the various things that are necessary when one finds a stray while Melinda who still very much needed her coffee (especially with the new developments) would take a shower and head out to get some coffee. I went outside to meet Lisa and the pit bull who were both now in my back yard where mercifully the gates were fully repaired and working and no sections were missing from any late night car accidents from the nearby apartment complex.

Lisa said that we could borrow the leash and that she would come by later with some treats and extra food. She then left to get home to her husband who was sitting with their baby and probably wondering what had happened to his wife. Lisa had let the pit bull off the leash to try to calm her down in the back yard and so now it fell to me to try to establish a rapport with the beast.

I got an almost full can of Pupperoni Snacks from the kitchen and then sat down on my back porch to patiently try to earn the dog’s trust. She remained very scared, but slowly approached me to gently accept the treats that I offered. Any attempt to pet her though resulted in her fleeing out of reach.

It was going to be a long morning, and it didn’t help that it was freezing outside and my dry hands were painfully exposed to it. After awhile it became clear that I wouldn’t be able to stand sitting outside with her for too long, and yet I have never fully trusted my fence since the first time Bodie escape from it with the assistance of strong gust of wind and so I didn’t want to simply leave her out there.

I went inside and erected our old dog gate that we had used when we first got Bodie to keep him confined to the kitchen during the day before we trusted that he would have no accidents in the house. This would serve to confine her to the kitchen and to keep her away from our dog Doobie. We knew from his recent contact with our friends’ two dogs and his trips to the dog park that he could be okay around dogs when properly introduced, but this pit bull was an unknown factor. While pit bulls are very people friendly, they sometimes do exhibit dog aggression as they were bred for fighting dogs and baiting bears. They are also one of the canine world’s premier athletes as was quite obvious by this dog’s toned and muscular frame. I couldn’t risk the two dogs getting into a fight so the gate was a necessity.

I then spent an hour trying to lure the dog into the kitchen. She would always readily come inside and gently accept treats, but only when I was sitting down on the floor. By the time, I could get to my feet and close the kitchen door, she would have beaten me to it and dashed to the safety of the yard. I eventually accomplished my goal by throwing treats to the far side of the kitchen and then dashing to the door while she was out of the way.

That first day was a small piece of hell. My face and hands were dried out. My hands were still aching from the cold. My dog Doobie was confined upstairs where he whined without ceasing – which is his speciality. It was a Sunday so all the vets, animal rescue organizations, and the humane society were unavailable for contact. Still, I was able to put together a plan of action for the next day and the dog was very sweet and easy to manage inside the kitchen while I tried to get some stuff accomplished on my MacBook.

Melinda returned and put together a DOG FOUND flier in Power Point and then she stayed with the dogs while I traveled around for two hours posting the fliers at every logical intersection in my extended neighborhood. This tactic had worked for Ramses and I was really hoping that it would work for this dog as well. My second hope lay in the fact that the next day I could get her scanned for chips that could identify her owner.

That afternoon, we decided to try a bold experiment as the separation created by the gate was really annoying and not something that we desired to experience for possibly several days. We took Doobie and Dog Two (as Melinda started to call her) outside for a game of frisbee in the yard. At first things looked promising. Doobie excitedly fetched his frisbee while Dog Two seemed interested and followed while hanging back a bit. Then, after a few tosses like this, Dog Two started getting up in Doobie’s face and began to try to mount him. At that point, we immediately separated the two before anything bad could start.

Thankfully, Dog Two wasn’t too difficult when it came time to go to sleep at the end of that exhausting day. Melinda and Doobie went upstairs and I stayed in the kitchen until Dog Two seemed to drift off. I then slipped over the breakfast bar of our kitchen and slinked quietly upstairs.

The next day was disappointing as we found that Dog Two did not have any chips. Also, the vet suspected that she may have been abused as she seemed very nervous about letting people touch her neck behind her head. We found out that our vet could board the dog if we got her vaccinated and so that remained an option for us we couldn’t locate the owners before our planned post-Christmas plans of driving to Florida to visit my mom. It was an option I didn’t wish to exercise though as already the very sweet Dog Two was winning her way into my heart and the thought of her in cage like that for days on end seemed awful and also counterproductive should we have to move from the locating her owners phase into the finding her a home phase.

Unfortunately, thanks again to the inaccurate bad reputation of pit bulls, most rescues will not take them because it’s not an efficient usage of the resources that they have seeing as it will be much harder to adopt out a pit bull than most other breeds. There are only two rescues in Georgia that I know to help out pit bulls: Pit Prints Rescue and the Georgia Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Naturally, when I contacted them their fostering resources were already filled to capacity. Pit Prints however offered a ray of hope in that should it become necessary we could pay to board Dog Two with them rather than board with our vet. This was a blessing because boarding at Pit Prints would mean home boarding with lots of human interaction and chances to nurture adoptable qualities.

It was a crazy and exhausting week, and Melinda and I both savored our time spent away from the situation while we were visiting her mom and her stepfather for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Because of our reluctance to board the dog and because she was showing signs of learning to behave around our dog through brief controlled encounters in the kitchen, we decided to cancel the planned to trip to visit my mother in Florida. Fortunately, she was understanding about why we couldn’t make it. It turned out to have been a good turn of luck actually because after Christmas, Melinda and I both caught a nasty cold that has been hanging around us for the rest of the vacation. I’m glad we didn’t have to suffer through a long car trip while sneezing and coughing and feeling miserable.

On the day before Christmas, we had spent two hours posting up some improved FOUND DOG fliers. It was kind of depressing that evening when the weather forecast proved wrong and rain poured down on Smyrna trashing most but not all of our hard work.

When we returned to our house at night after spending all of Christmas Day with Melinda’s mom and her stepfather, we received a wonderful Christmas gift: I let Dog Two and Doobie outside into the backyard and they proceeded to have a grand time playing with another. Dog Two had been very sweet through all of this and really the only thing standing between us housing her for long term was her interaction with Doobie.

We decided that given this new turn of events and seeing that fostering her would involve housing her for several months that rather than take another pit bull’s chance for adoption, it would just be better to adopt her ourselves should the original owners not come forward.

Despite this decision, we still continued doing all that we could to locate her original owners as returning her to them would be best. I reposted fliers where the rain had flushed them away and made sure to leave fliers with all local vets. I also posted ads with the local newspapers and with craigslist.

I finally managed to get in touch with a person at the humane society and they took our information, but no one had contacted them all month looking for a dog matching her description. With that bit of information and given that our fliers have been up for most days since we found her, I’m guessing her owners aren’t looking for her and so she will wind up being our pet.

We named her Peppermint because we found her over the Christmas holidays, she is sweet, she keeps it cool, and she kind of reminds us of peppermint with her pretty white coat and her nice off-red collar that we purchased for her.

Doobie and Peppermint Chewing Bones Together

She’s a very sweet and docile dog who loves people instantly, warming up to new ones now that she’s no longer cautious about us. My day of patiently dosing her with treats to lure her inside the kitchen and to win her trust have paid off by creating a strong attachment to me already.

Peppermint is still pretty young. I’d say she’s full grown, but still has her puppy energy about her. She and Doobie play together pretty well, but frequently she gets a little too feisty for him and you can see he finds her a bit of a nuisance at these times. Still, with a little training she should be able to pass her Canine Good Citizen Test and be a model citizen.

She is very intelligent and picks up on things quickly. Sometimes a little too quickly. For instance, we had been keeping her in the kitchen behind the gate at night, but after a few nights like this, she figured out she could hop over the breakfast bar just like we were doing. That led to us allowing her to sleep in the bedroom with us which seems to be working out alright for now. We don’t want to allow her to roam the house free until we can be fully certain that she won’t have any accidents or chew on anything that she shouldn’t be chewing.

It wasn’t what we planned, but I think Peppermint will fit into our family nicely and she will ultimately benefit Doobie by giving him more exercise than we give him alone which will help him take off some of the extra pounds he is carrying around.

Update: (1/1/2010)

I just realized that my infrequent posts to this site these days have left this story incomplete. Alas, Peppermint didn’t fit so nicely into our family as I had hoped. She eventually grew more relaxed in our house and became far too energetic for our house and far too vigorous in her play for Doobie. As it became clear that we needed assistance, we began working with a wonderful local Pit bull rescue (Pit Prints Rescue) to see about us fostering Peppermint until a more suitable home could be found.

We worked with Pit Prints for eight months, during which time I became more and more attached to Peppermint while Melinda found herself disliking her more and more as her high energy levels racked up more and more casualties in our home (curtains, bed, etc.). We boarded Peppermint with Pit Prints Rescue during the last month of August 2009 while we were on vacation. When we returned, we were blessed to find that another family working with Pit Prints had taken over fostering Peppermint for us while we continued to support her financially. This new foster family already fostered three other Pit Bulls and seemed much better at providing for her needs. As we were already paying for her food, toys, and vet bills, it was no problem to continue to do so as this family took her into their care.

It has been a bad year for pets in need of rescue and adoption this year with the economy taking such a hit. It has been especially bad for breeds like the Pit Bull that have a bad image in the media. Peppermint is still being fostered with Pit Prints Rescue and is in need of finding a family that can adopt her and provide her with a home where an intelligent and energetic dog can get all the attention and exercise that she needs. You can read more about her here.

This weekend has been a tiring adventure!

Our story begins on Saturday morning. While my wife Melinda was practicing her violin, I sat at our dining room table happily working on an Euler problem on my MacBook Pro when a flash of movement caught my attention through our dining room window. I saw what appeared to be a dog dashing into my neighbor’s yard. It looked about the size and build of one of her dogs, but her cars were not in her driveway.

My experience with the death of my dog Bodie had me fearful for the safety of this dog, so I went outside to take a look. When I stepped out onto my driveway, I found a brownish red pit bull peering back at me from around the corner of my neighbor’s neighbor’s yard. He looked very rigid like he was considering whether he should dash towards me or dash away as fast as possible. He appeared to be wearing a black collar.

Hoping that he had a tag with some identification on him, I stepped back inside my house to grab one of our spare leashes and a dog treat. I then headed back outside and saw that the dog was gone. However, I looked down my street and saw him again just as he dashed into a neighboring cul-de-sac.

I gave chase to my four-legged quarry and upon arriving at the mouth of the cul-de-sac, I saw to my relief that the dog had not gone very far. Dashing around between two houses, he seemed to frolic in his freedom while hiking his leg every few feet. I quickly cut the distance that separated us and then cautiously approached the dog who was now staring curiously at me. I came within fifteen to twenty feet from him and then extended my hand while employing my best friendly-person-calling-a-dog voice to beckoned him near me.

With just a hint of hesitation, he timidly approached me. Once he drew near enough and sniffed my hand, I petted him gently on the head and offered him the treat. He sat for me in a docile fashion and sniffed the treat with interest. While he examined this tasty morsel, I managed to calmly grab his collar and hook my leash to it.

The dog then took the treat, sampled it and spit it out. So much for the tastiness of the treat, but I was relieved that I had the dog securely on my leash, and he seemed to trust me. I took a moment to examine his collar and found to my dismay that he had no tag.

My dog Doobie is a skittish dog and he is rather nervous around strangers and other dogs. Almost any time, he finds himself in the presence of another dog, he growls or shows other signs of aggression. For some time, we have been meaning to enroll Doobie in training to correct this behavior, but currently, he simply cannot be introduced to other dogs.

Unfortunately, that meant that I could not bring this pit bull ‘Dog’ into the house no matter how friendly he seemed to me. On top of that, my wife and I had plans to have lunch with some of our friends and the agreed upon hour of meeting was drawing nigh. After some discussion with my wife, I took ‘Dog’ for a little trip to our local vet while she left to meet our friends for lunch.

Much to my surprise, ‘Dog’ was very well-behaved on the trip. He was a perfect gentleman, sitting calmly and never whining in fear like our dog Doobie and every other dog that I’ve owned. This made the whole trip easier as my mind was already starting to worry about what I was going to do with this dog if the vet couldn’t find a chip on him.

We arrived at the vet, and ‘Dog’ bolted out of the car in full stride, his powerful muscles forcing me to strain to avoid getting knocked onto the ground. When we got inside, I made sure that ‘Dog’ did not come into contact with any of the other animals waiting in the lobby as I had no idea what his disposition towards them might be. Soon after arrival, we were taken into an examination room where ‘Dog’ proceeded to sit between my legs and let me pet him, instinctively clinging to me as his new protector. The doctor came into see us and she checked him over. Sadly, ‘Dog’ had no chip to help us identify a possible owner, but on the plus side, he seemed to be in great health and the vet’s examination revealed what appeared to be the remains of a vaccination tag, perhaps ripped off during an escape from his owner’s yard. The vet and I agreed that based upon the dog’s health, disposition, and apparently trained behavior (responding to commands such as sit, come, and off), this little guy was probably somebody’s pet and that some owner was probably out there heartbroken and trying to find ‘Dog’.

The vet gave me some numbers and URLs for local rescue groups that might be able to assist me in fostering ‘Dog’ while searching for his owner which I stressed would be a necessity thanks to the situation with Doobie at home. The vet told me that there was the possibility of boarding him there, but that it would run $175 for a medical clearance of him and then $31 a day. She also recommended that I wait at least until Monday sense she thought it likely that I could find the owner over the weekend.

I was worried that we might never find the owner, but I decided to go with the vet’s advice and hoped Melinda and I can figure out something to do with ‘Dog’ for the weekend. When I left the vet’s office, I found out how frazzled I had been over the whole experience because I realized to my horror that I had somehow locked my car and left the keys running! Thankfully, I had also left the passenger side door unlocked and so I didn’t have to call a locksmith or my wife.

When I got back home, I set about trying to call all the local vets in hopes that one of them might have a patient matching the dog’s description. Unfortunately, it was Saturday afternoon and pretty much all the vets were closed for the weekend. To make matters worse, I was growing hungry and was confined to do all my calls and internet research outside because ‘Dog’ began to freak out when left by himself in the backyard. Also, one experiment with leaving him out there unattended resulted in a scary incident, where he dug a hole under my fence and I find him galloping around in my front yard. Fortunately, he happily came back to me when I called to him. After that near disaster, I searched through my garage for Bodie’s old long leash and stake and set the stake up in the middle of my backyard so that ‘Dog’ had a lot of freedom to run and explore without the freedom to escape and give me a heart attack.

It seemed like it took forever for my wife to return. In the mean time, my research showed me that I was facing a long battle should we not locate the dog’s owner. Pit bulls have an unwarranted bad reputation and as a result are very hard to place with rescue organizations. The only organization that seemed likely to be able to help was a pit bull specific organization that sent me an auto-reply and detailed how they were currently full with long waits. Also, they advised that taking a pit bull to an animal shelter was a death sentence in Georgia which my vet had already warned me about in Cobb county. This had already never been an option for me because the chances are bad for almost any animal that winds up in a shelter. But this information strengthened my resolve that we would do whatever was necessary to keep this dog out of a shelter.

When my wife got home, I took the opportunity to reheat some left over pasta and then set about printing up some ‘DOG FOUND’ fliers. Then, while my wife stayed at home to keep an eye on ‘Dog’, I drove around the surrounding neighborhoods and taped fliers to strategic locations. My vet and animal control had all given me advise that I not share too much information in the fliers because there are people who answer these ads falsely so that they can take the dogs and use them in dog fighting rings.

By the time I returned home, my wife had spent an hour watching the dog and learned that he simply would not stop barking obnoxiously when left outside confined to our backyard. He seemed to have latched on to me as a life raft, and any time that I went away from him, he quickly descended into hysteria. This spelled the end of our vague plans to leave him outside for the evening which is just as well because I could have never slept knowing that he may have broken free from his leash to escape our fence.

We decided that we would need to board him with a vet that I had called earlier in the day that remained open until 7pm. Unfortunately, my timing was bad and the vet had already left for the day despite the clinic being open for fifteen more minutes at the time of my call. Without a vet to administer vaccinations, they could not admit ‘Dog’ for boarding. The attendant suggested I try PetsMart as they had a clinic with later hours as well as a Pet Hotel. I quickly found that it was too late for PetsMart to schedule anything as well, but they suggested I look in the yellow pages for kennels as some kennels can do vaccinations on site.

I spent thirty to forty minutes sitting outside with ‘Dog’, my laptop, and the yellow pages in the cold darkness of the early evening calling every kennel and finding the same stories: either the kennel was closed for the night or they could not take an undocumented dog into their care.

In desperation, we tried one last measure. We searched through our cluttered hall closet and dragged out Bodie’s old crate which we used for our first year with him better stopped using once we got Doobie. We parked our Honda Fit outside in the drive way and after closing the garage door, we set up the dog crate inside with a small towel and large raw hide bone. We then led dog inside, lured him into the crate with a treat, and shut him inside. After turning out the lights and shutting the door leading inside the house, we crept around on tip toes waiting for the inevitable howling, whimpering, or barking to commence.

Instead, we found to our joyful surprise that ‘Dog’ must have had experience with crates because we continued to experience nothing but blessed silence from the garage. After what had been a long and awful day, I was hungry and tired. We went out for some Mexican and made plans to “board” ourselves at a Holiday Inn Express should ‘Dog’ find his voice when we returned home. However, our fears were without warrant for ‘Dog’ was quiet throughout the night.

After a good night’s rest, I got up early the next morning and came downstairs with Doobie to take care of feeding him and letting him outside before preparing myself to once more deal with ‘Dog’. After sufficiently preparing the place by gating Doobie upstairs, I let ‘Dog’ out of the crate and was thankful to find that he had had no accidents during the night. He was very happy to see me and to be free. He still seemed nervous though and never wanted to lose sight of me. That morning we tried something different. With Doobie confined upstairs, I cautiously allowed ‘Dog’ to enter the house. Melinda had been afraid that ‘Dog’ who was constantly hiking his leg to mark territory outside would do likewise inside our house. I thought otherwise though because he showed signs of being well-trained during the trip to the vet and had never made a mess in the car or at the vet.

When I let ‘Dog’ inside and dropped his leash, he began to feverishly sniff the carpet sensing Doobie all around, but thankfully my judgement was proved correct as all he did was sniff. Eventually after several minutes of this behavior, he settled down and came to sit beside me as I worked on my laptop trying to found other organizations that might help us foster him for the long term should it be required.

Eventually, Melinda came downstairs and we had coffee together, but Doobie began to whine incessantly and it proved too much to handle. So I took ‘Dog’ for a walk around the neighborhood and then reluctantly confined him to the crate once again. This time we could hear some rather soft and pathetic howls echoing ghostlike from the garage, but we steeled ourselves against them as we prepared for round two of flier posting. We printed out some improved fliers and then Melinda, Doobie, and I took a long walk through out greater neighborhood putting up more fliers, secretly hoping to find that “LOST DOG” fliers had been magically posted during the night.

Instead, we returned well-walked, but empty handed. I was trying to keep my hopes up and focused on my plans for Monday morning where I hoped that the calls to local vets would yield some definitive clue to the dog’s owner.

In the mean time, I could not stand the idea of ‘Dog’ remaining confined to the crate, so I let him back out and then the two us made camp on my back patio. ‘Dog’ sat by my side seeking the comfort of my petting while I tried to focus on my computer to take my mind off the sobering problem of keeping this dog for any length of time in such an ill-prepared setting. Melinda sat inside on her MacBook and we kept in touch through the early afternoon via iChat.

I found it hard to concentrate on anything other than ‘Dog’. I logged onto Facebook and updated my status to reflect my predicament. I thought about how it might be nice to get out a blanket and lay on the grass with ‘Dog’ beside me and a good book to read.

I was startled out of my meditations by the ringing of my cellphone. I looked at the number and did not recognize it. Did I dare to hope!?

I answered the phone and heard a man’s voice on the other end. He was asking if I was the person who had found a male red dog. I said that I was and asked him what kind of dog he was trying to find. The man described a red male pit bull and soon we both found ourselves laughing happily that we had found each other through my fliers. The man identified the collar that ‘Dog’ had been wearing along with correctly detailing the missing tag and the fact that ‘Dog’ was not neutered. He revealed that ‘Dog’ was in fact named ‘Ramses’ and as I turned to the dog and called him ‘Ramses’, I could see a different light spark in his eyes as he recognized his name.

I turned to look at the sliding glass patio door to find my wife and Doobie on the other side. She was staring excitedly inquiring with her eyes whether we had fond the owner. I gave her a hearty thumbs up and proceeded to tell the owner how to get to our house.

After I got off the phone, I realized that the powerful wind had forcefully knocked one of the doors to my fence wide open. Despite the fact that Ramses was on a leash tied to as stake in the ground, I feared leaving the gate open. I ran over to secure the gate, but as I arrived the wind knocked it wide again before I could adjust it. At that exact moment, I witnessed Ramses flying through the gate without his collar. With no time to process how this could have happened, called out “Ramses! Here boy! Here!” and much to my relief, Ramses happily came back to me and allowed me to grab him and pick him up. I called to my wife and prayed that Ramses would stay still in my arms and not get away while I had no means of securing him.  To lose the dog now while his owner was on his way would be the ultimate in ironic injustice.

Fortunately, Melinda arrived in time and dashed off to get Bodie’s old collar. It fit Ramses well and allowed me to secure him to a leash once again. I found his old black leather collar lying in the grass ripped from the strength of Ramses’ excited dash to follow when I had run to secure the gate.

Shortly thereafter, Ramses’ master arrived and you could instantly tell that this was his ‘daddy’! Ramses nearly pulled my arm out as his ran excitedly to the man who had just stepped out of his car in my drive way. Ramses’ owner was laughing and happy to his wayward dog, but you could also see that he was holding back tears.

It seems that the man had been in Texas on Saturday for a job interview and his girlfriend had been watching his house and Ramses for him. Sometime early Saturday morning, Ramses had escaped from his backyard and Sunday morning the man had been frantically driving around looking for his dog. Thanks to the fliers that Melinda and I had posted, he was able to find us and be reunited with his boy.

It was a rough two days, but a happy ending like this made it all worth while!

I found a few of the best pictures that we had of him. I wish we had taken more and had had more time with him.

My poor boy is gone. This is how it happened.

These people came by the house yesterday evening to inquire if we wanted to have our dead tree removed. I asked them about some trees and branches that were pushing through our fence. They said they could take care of those too.

When the tree guy and I left the backyard, the fence didn’t shut quite properly, but I secured it. They went back there again though to take some measurements and apparently they didn’t secure the fence properly.

After they left, I fed my boys Bodie and Doobie and then as usual let them outside into the fenced-in backyard to do their business. Melinda Google chatted with me to say she was coming home and asked me to put some rolls into the oven as she was starved. I asked her to get some bones from Target because Bodie had been sad and wanting one for several days. I figured it would be a nice surprise for him. After I finished chatting with her, I wanted to bring the dogs inside. If I leave them too long out there, they (especially Bodie) usually start barking at stuff like the neighbor’s dogs.

To my horror, they were not in the back yard.

At this point it was pretty much dark. I ran inside as fast as I could, rounded up a jar of treats and two leashes. I ran outside barefoot hoping to see them in the front yard or the neighbors yard. That bloody fence has been knocked open before, and they have gotten loose before.

Every time, they never went very far or on the worse such occasion, Bodie ran deeper into the neighborhood rather than towards the perils of the always busy Windy Hill.

Every time except for this time.

When I got outside, I could see that the two dogs were halfway down my street, heading straight for Windy Hill. I ran after them in terror calling their names. Pleading with them to come. Pleading with God to help me. One neighbor happened to be outside, and he was closer to them and to the road. He tried to help me stop them, but they proceeded to step out into the busy four lane road. We almost caught up with them, but they were in the middle of the road. They almost got hit and were obviously alarmed by the cars rushing by them. Instead of coming back towards my neighbor and me, they ran into the grassy median and started running together down the median of Windy Hill.

In terror, I pursued them feeling hopeless. I was running out of breath chasing them and shouting their names. Cars were darting past on either side of us.

Then, Doobie stopped and walked out into the road on the right side.

Fortunately for him, he is mostly white and the oncoming traffic could see him. A big truck slowed down and waited for him to get back into the median. It turns out there was more than just colors and good luck to Doobie’s narrow missing getting hit. Apparently, one of my other neighbors had come out and was trying to stop and direct traffic.

While this drama with Doobie unfolded, Bodie was getting further away. I was losing my strength and running out of breath and wondering how I could possibly catch these dogs that are so much faster than me.

And then, Doobie stopped and turned to look at me. He looked frightened and ashamed. I called him to me and wonder of all wonders he came to me and bowed down placing his head at my feet. I hook the leash into his collar and then turned my attention back to Bodie.

Mercifully, Bodie had also stopped his relentless running away. He was facing us. He was even cautiously starting to come back toward us. I lifted up one of his favorite treats and called his name while started to move forward with Doobie in tow.

I can’t know what happened. All I can guess is that he heard the panic in my voice. For whatever reason, as I started to move towards him, Bodie panicked obviously disturbed by the rush of cars in the road.

He darted out into the left side of the road and right in front of a car. I watched as he got hit and rolled forwarded towards the median like a lifeless doll. The car slammed on its breaks before continuing on, its driver probably afraid of getting hit by other cars.

My neighbor who had tried to help came up at that time and knelt down beside Bodie who was now laying in the narrow strip between the road and the median. He told me later that apparently he tried to move Bodie into the median and was mildly bitten for his efforts.

In the chaos of watching Bodie get hit, something happened and somehow I dropped Doobie’s leash. In fear, he darted off back the way we had come along the grassy median.

My terror increased. I didn’t know what to do.

Bodie was laying there not trying to get up. He was panting but very much still alive.
I didn’t see any blood or any obvious injures. He however did not seem able to get up. I moved him onto the grassy median and then I asked my neighbor to wait with Bodie while I pursued Doobie. My neighbor knew however that the frightened Bodie would be in better hands with me and instead told me to stay with him and took after Doobie himself.

I looked down at my boy and knew I needed to get him to a vet.

I picked him up in my arms and started to run down the median. He was so heavy. I was so tired. I kept looking around for someone – anyone – to pull over to the side of the road and help me. I was calling out for help. I didn’t know how I could make it back to the neighborhood carrying him.

I saw one car look like it might stop. They slowed down. But then they continued on.

Then, just as I was thinking I would never get back home with Bodie, a car stopped just ahead of me and a lady got out. She was apparently the poor driver who had hit Bodie. It wasn’t her fault. He was mostly black and hard to see at night, and he had just dashed out. It was pretty much unavoidable on such a crowded road.

I was so thankful she had come back.

I carried Bodie to her car, and she helped me put him into the back seat. I got in with him and she drove me to the entrance to my neighborhood where four of my neighbors were standing around looking for Doobie. I had the lady pull over and wait with Bodie while I asked my neighbors about Doobie. To my horror, the man who had helped me said that Doobie had apparently wondered off into the woods that border our neighborhood and the road.
I was torn. I knew I needed to get Bodie to the vet. My wife Melinda wasn’t there and was at Target oblivious to the nightmare unfolding before me.

Who could find Doobie and keep him safe from the same fate?

And in the middle of the night in a dark wooded area with nasty briars and a ditch??

Then, a saw a flash of white at the opposite end of my street near my house.

It could have been Doobie…

I asked the lady to drive me to my house. She let me out, and I went into the house through the front door that I had left wide open and there was Doobie on his leash looking ashamed and scared.
I was so thankful.

I closed the door, ran, and grabbed my keys and wallet. I then got my shoes and made sure the back door was shut. Then, I left through the front door and got into the car with the lady. She agreed to drive me to the emergency vet clinic.

I called Melinda and told her what had happened. It was hard for her to understand me because my throat was hoarse and dry from my shouting. Bodie was laying mostly still, panting but seeming relatively calm – probably from the shock. I realized at some point that it seemed that he had a little bit of blood coming out of his mouth as I had a small smudge on my hand.

I dialed 411 and had to struggle as they had trouble finding the number for the emergency vet. At one point, the operator misunderstood and thought I was calling about a people emergency as she asked me if I could dial 911. I had to repeat several times in my hoarse voice that it was my Dog and that I needed the number for the vet. Eventually, they got it right and put me through where I was able to notify the clinic of our imminent arrival.

It seemed liked we hit every bloody red light.

When we arrived at the clinic, I awkwardly picked Bodie up and carried him into the clinic. He had been a real champ on the ride. He only squirmed and tried to move around once or twice. They took him back and had me sign forms. One nurse assured me that about ten dogs are brought in like this every day and on most days ten of those dogs go home. I asked: “Even when there’s blood in their saliva?” She said that they usually have blood in their saliva in such cases.

I thanked the nice lady who drove me. The poor woman was beside herself with grief and nerves over hitting Bodie. She said she had a dog too and a three year old son and that her biggest nightmares were that one of them might get hit by a car.

I assured her that it wasn’t her fault.

My throat was ridiculously dry. I bought a coke and waited.

I became acutely aware of my numbness and the fact that I was shaking a bit.

They eventually led me back to a waiting room. I prayed feverishly in seclusion that the Lord would not take my sweet boy away from me.

I cried.

After what seemed like forever, the doctor came in. She explained that Bodie was in shock and that they were bringing him into a more stable condition before they could do x-rays. She said that he seemed to be suffering from no internal bleeding.

This was good news.

I had been deathly afraid that he was suffering from internal bleeding with the blood in his mouth. The Doctor said that this blood was probably from cuts or scrapes along the mouth. She then told me that she was concerned that he may have a spinal injury. She asked me if I had seen him move the lower half of his body since the injury.

I couldn’t recall.

She said that it would take about thirty minutes before they could take the x-rays and know what kind of injuries Bodie had sustained, but she said that he showed signs of not being able to move the lower half of his body.

I went outside to wait again. Right at that moment, Melinda arrived.

God bless her, she had brought some of the rolls that I had put in the oven, and thus, we didn’t have to wait with empty stomachs and watch our blood sugar levels drop.

We waited. I told her what the Doctor had said. The Doctor had said that a spinal injury in some cases was treatable through surgery and provided a path for recovery while in other cases the situation was one where nothing was possible.

Melinda and I waited and discussed work and other things. Anything to not dwell on the giant elephant standing in the room with us.

There was an annoying TV in front of us that kept running an ad for some sleazy show called “Dirty Sexy Money”. My friend Josh had the bad luck of calling while we sat there. He had been hoping to discuss setting up our slicehost for our friend Jason to come aboard as a partner. What he got was a friend in a terrible situation where conversations tend to be awkward. It kind of reminded me of how my other good friend Jason came by to grab me for a cup of coffee and had the bad timing of arriving minutes after my dad had died from cancer – the ambulance still waiting outside the house.

While I was finishing up the conversation with Josh, a nurse called us back and said that the Doctor needed to talk with us. We went into the room to wait.

I was shivering.

Melinda was being so strong through all of this.

Then, the Doctor came in and said that she was afraid she had bad news for us. Melinda and I both were silent with dread. The doctor turned off the lights and put an x-ray slide up to show how Bodie’s spine had been injured badly in two places just above his hip. She explained that the fracture was such that the spinal cord had been severed and that there was nothing that could be done for him. She explained that he would need to be euthanized.

Melinda and I both burst into tears. We pretty much completely lost it.

I was in denial.

Insanely, in desperation, I thought of Forest Gump and Lt. Dan. I though that surely there was some way to save his life even if it meant that he would be paralyzed and need special care.

But there was no hope forthcoming from the Doctor.

It all seemed so utterly monstrous to me. I mean if he had been injured with internal bleeding and a completely battered body that was one thing. At least, you would look in horror and realize that this creature was dying and that there was nothing to be done. But here he was, the upper half of his body and even the lower half pretty much completely sound but for this broken vital connection.

This damned fragile broken connection.

They asked if we wished to say goodbye to him and led us into a different room where he lay on a blanket with another blanket covering most of his body. He had a blanket folded up under his head to cushion it. There were either scrapes or blood stains just under his nostril and on his chin. His breathing was labored and he was under heavy sedation.
We talked to him, petted him, and stood with him for what seemed like an eternity of denial. Through it all he simply lay there accepting our caresses while breathing sharp and rapidly.

I kept thinking of all the things that he would never do again. How he would no longer get to jump up for joy every morning when I finally brought him breakfast doing his “arial” Bodie trick for us. How he would never happily run around the house like a crazy dog when I asked if he wanted to go for a walk. How he would never get to beat up on his brother Doobie again.

Death. It’s so final.

I believe in God and life eternal. But what about dogs?

There is no answer really. Some people will say one thing. Others another. No one knows.

The experience of dying really freaks me out. I should say rather that the few experiences in life that we can have that seem the closest to what dying might be like haunt me.

Like when I’m drifting off to sleep on my back… I have trouble sleeping on my back. When I happen to be in this position and start to drift into sleep, I stop breathing.

And then, I gasp and wake up.

It is always very disturbing: this sensation that you are no longer breathing and drifting away with nothing to stop the descent. And then the gasp comes.

But what if it doesn’t? That’s death.

After what seemed like forever and several used tissues for both Melinda and I, the nurse came in and had us sign something about the euthanasia procedure. Then, after another long wait, the doctor finally came in with a syringe.

It’s one of those moments of fear where you see something inevitable and unstoppable coming for you, and you cannot bear to face it, but it is coming nevertheless.

Some people might laugh, but I braced for it much like I brace for the needle, when they have to take my blood. In the last precious few seconds, I tried to say things desperately to my little boy as the vet began to administer the drugs through Bodie’s iv.

I had seen this before with my previous dog Sammy who had to be euthanized from complications caused by diabetes.

The process is peaceful, but awful in the way that one second you are petting this obviously living, breathing  creature. And the next you are petting an obviously lifeless shell.

Melinda and I drove home in gloomy silence and then got ready for bed. It was quite late when we returned. Doobie awaited us cautiously happy to see we had come back home. I picked up Bodie’s collar, water bowl, and food bowl so as not to leave an unhappy reminder in the kitchen.

Melinda and I sat on the couch together in sad silence. It is amazing how numb one gets. How hollow you feel.

And then Doobie came over to us and was his normal happy playful, loving self. He made us laugh. I was thankful for that.

And so thankful that he hadn’t met his death out there on Windy Hill, too.

Still, I had trouble sleeping when we finally went to bed. I was tired and exhausted from the whole ordeal, but the pictures of Bodie’s last day and the terrible images of him getting hit and me trying to keep him safe haunted me.

I kept seeing the scene of Windy Hill replay itself over and over again.

I kept questioning all the little things that I could have done that may have saved him.

It’s so quiet and strange here with just Doobie in the house.

Here’s a flashback to a pre-blog event that my wife Melinda and I managed to capture with my first digital camera which was a birthday present from her. On Christmas Day after a very nice time spent visiting with my mother-in-law and her husband, Melinda and I returned home and got out the stockings that my mother-in-law had filled for our two boys Bodie and Doobie. One of the items was a small plush ball that most dogs would probably enjoy squeezing and gnawing on. But not so with Bodie. Let us observe the inevitable tragic outcome.

Christmas with the Boys