| ||
|
His official and formal name (from Animal Care and Control) is, "Chance."
.
But truth is, I rarely, if ever call him that.
.
From the day he was rescued from death at the city pound, I have called the then 10-year-old, puffy Pomeranian with "severe" temperament issues, "Puppy Boy" (or sometimes, just plain, "Puppy.")
.
I should be the last person on the planet to have a powder puff, "purebred" dog like this as my MO had always been to be champion (and caregiver) to the all American "mutt." Nearly every dog I ever had (with lone exception of a wonderful rescued German Shepherd many years ago) has always been a combination of mixes -- "Heinz 57's," if you will.
.
But, Puppy Boy was in big trouble 8 years ago.
.
Normally, purebred, small dogs are the first animals to be rescued by established Breed Rescue groups should they be in danger at Animal Control pounds.
.
But, Puppy Boy's picture on the shelter Euth List was not one to warm the cockles.
.
Rather, the stark photo showed an angry looking, black-eyed dog obviously snarling with mouth wide open and bearing, not the typical four, but FIVE sharp-pointing FANGS. (Puppy Boy actually had an extra fang jutting down from the center of his mouth just ready to take a chunk out of someone!)
.
I am not sure what prompted me to call the New Hope hotline to "pull" this frightening image off the Euth list, but perhaps something told me that "Vampire Dog's" photo might not generate other rescue calls -- especially with the "Severely Aggressive" behavioral evaluation attached to poor Puppy Boy's shelter record. He apparently had tried to bite everyone at the shelter.
.
Sure enough, I was the only one to have called, willing to take Puppy Boy. -- A circumstance that apparently so pleased and relieved the shelter director, I was surprisingly awarded $200.00 to take the feisty Pomeranian. (The only time in my life, I was actually paid to rescue an animal!)
.
I was provided with information that Puppy was already neutered, had been owned by someone who had died and that the relatives apparently didn't want him. (Surprise, surprise!)
.
Well, one could certainly understand why all of this was so traumatizing to poor Puppy.
.
Death, rejection and then worst of all, the final humiliation of this fancy dog ending up in the city pound. Guess I would have been pissed off too -- though I didn't have five fangs to flaunt and show for it.
.
Though a startlingly beautiful dog, Puppy Boy had not received the best care.
.
His rear end was in fact, caked with at least several pounds of stuck on, hard and hanging feces -- a situation that caused much embarrassment when walking him along the streets of Park Avenue and my fancy, Upper East Side Manhattan neighborhood. I could just feel the shocked stares and glares.
.
Moreover, because Puppy was initially so distrusting, stressed and "angry," I dared not take him to a groomer or try to bathe him myself -- unless wanting to end up in a hospital.
.
So, I had to wait until Puppy had sufficient time to "de stress" at which time, I eventually bathed and cut all the crap off myself.
.
The good news in all this was that Puppy Boy was good with other animals, particularly getting along well with my other dog, Tina. That was actually my main concern with him.
.
I don't remember if I had ever considered trying to find an adoptive home for Puppy once he had calmed down and been cleaned up. (He was actually a very nice dog after many weeks of care and fostering.)
.
It was, after all, my usual standard to always provide adopters the original shelter records from Animal Control. This reality scared me in terms of a potential lawsuit, should Puppy bite someone. (i.e. "Knowingly" adopting out a "vicious" animal.) Moreover, Puppy's "Vampire Dog" photo on the shelter records was enough to scare and deter most people. (Gee, how I wish I had saved that gem!)
.
So no, I never made any attempt to adopt Puppy Boy out. He was really mine from day one.
.
All of this occurred nearly 8 years ago.
.
Since that time, I had Puppy's extra fang removed by my vet to give him a less scary appearance and have been pretty good about general maintenance (though I have never taken Puppy to a groomer for fear it would be too stressful for both him and the groomer).
.
Fast forward to the past year.
.
As noted in recent blog entries, most of my attention over the past year was on my other dog, 21-year-old, Tina who was suffering ravages of old age and in somewhat rapid decline.
.
Vet appointments and medications did much to relieve Tina's pain and stave off the inevitable. But, eventually the inevitable comes as it did for Tina and my family this past Labor Day.
.
Since then, though dealing with grief and loss, I have been also focusing more attention on my surviving pets, of which Puppy Boy is now the only dog.
.
Though also elderly now (18), I have recently been taking Puppy Boy for longer walks in hopes of strengthening his muscles and helping insure vitality.
.
I noticed on one of these walks last week, a slight limp.
.
When later examining his paws, it was clear Puppy's nails had grown too long and seriously needed clipping.
.
Though having dog nail clippers, I decided to take the easy way out and inquired about having Puppy groomed at Petco. But, I would need to update all of Puppy Boy's vaccines and due to his advanced age, I did not want to take unnecessary chance on this.
.
So, I would have to clip his nails myself.
.
That would turn out to be like a trip down memory lane -- though not in a good way.
.
Puppy Boy never actually attempted to bite, but he was extremely unhappy with the procedure. -- A procedure that prompted the loudest of shrieks, yelps and piecing screams I have ever heard from a dog. (Thankfully, my neighbors didn't report me to the ASPCA for animal torture and cruelty!)
.
What normally takes a groomer a couple of minutes to do, in fact took me more than two days as I had to conduct the "torture" in small steps, one nail at a time.
.
But, the positive result of all this is that Puppy now walks normally and gingerly - a circumstance that prompted me last night to (foolishly) walk Puppy Boy more than a mile to Harlem Meer in Central Park.
.
It has been more than a year since making this trip with Puppy Boy. And he was perfectly fine with the mile plus walk there.
.
It was beginning the walk back, however, from the Meer, where either the somewhat warm temperature (68 degrees) or just the sheer distance got to him.
.
Puppy Boy began to pant and he significantly slowed down; a situation that caused me to realize I would have to carry him virtually all the way home.
.
Though a purebred Pomeranian, Puppy Boy is no "teacup."
.
He weighs approximately,17 pounds.
.
Barely over 105 lbs myself, it was a bit of a trek, holding Puppy Boy like a baby and walking the mile back towards home.
.
It was quite the "workout" for biceps that have mostly been neglected over the past few years.
.
But, for his part, Puppy seemed to enjoy the free ride. He settled back in my arms like a content infant, enjoying the changing scenery.
.
A few times I put him down just to rest my arms, but Puppy gave me the pitiful, "abused animal" look to let me know, he wanted no part in walking the rest of the way home.
.
Walking as fast I could, we finally made it home, my shoulders and arms by that time, aching.
.
Puppy ran to his food bowl to let me know all the "exercise" had worked up a gargantuan appetite. After filling his belly, Puppy settled down to sleep for the rest of the evening, as if I had cruelly forced him to run a marathon.
.
So, in essence, there are two things I learned over this past week:
.
If at some point, struggling for money, I will never make it as a "dog groomer" considering it took two full days to cut the nails of a small "powder puff" dog.
.
Nor will I make it in the competitive world of women's weight lifting.
.
As for whether I will walk Puppy Boy to Harlem Meer again to see the ducks and (currently, a loner goose there), the jury is out on that one.
.
I imagine not without money in pocket for taxi fare home. -- PCA
.
.
.
*********
*********
No comments:
Post a Comment