| ||
| ||
| ||
|
It was the worst shelter dog photo I had ever seen.
.
An angry, snarling Pomeranian who actually had extra fangs in the middle of his mouth.
.
"Vampire dog," I thought.
.
But if the photo was less than endearing, the shelter description of the dog who was then on the Euthanasia list for the following morning was even more troubling.
.
"Male, neutered, Pomeranian, ten-years-old, 17 lbs. Severe behavior. Extremely aggressive; tries to bite. New Hope Rescue only."
.
As a New Hope Rescue partner to New York City's Animal Care and Control shelter, I had Internet access to the shelter's "Kill List" animals each night. When having an open foster spot, I routinely checked the list for any dogs or cats I could responsibly save.
.
The snarling Pomeranian with extra vampire fangs intrigued me. Yes, I could personally foster a small male dog; even a slightly temperamental one. My main concern was that he could get along with my cats and spayed, female dog.
.
I called a trusted and dedicated AC&C volunteer and dog walker to inquire if Evelyn knew anything about the Euth List Pomeranian named, "Chance."
.
"Oh yes, I know the dog," Evelyn replied somberly. "But I don't know that you should take him. I was not able to get him out of the cage. He tried to bite numerous times."
.
I was completely taken aback. In all the times I had called Evelyn to inquire of a dog, she had never once advised not taking the dog! On the contrary, she usually begged for rescue of them!
.
Chance must indeed be quite the risk, I thought ruefully -- apparently fully living up to his vampire image.
.
Nevertheless, after speaking with Evelyn and probably against my better judgment, I called the New Hope number anyway to put a "hold" on the feisty Pomeranian and essentially save his ass.
.
I rationalized and told myself that another rescue probably called before I did as Chance was a small, purebred dog and except for the Dracula fangs and angry snarl, appeared to be quite cute. Surely, other rescues would want him!
.
But I was the only one to call on the nasty Pomeranian who appeared proud of his extra fangs -- "The better to bite you with!" Jessica, the New Hope Rescue Coordinator for AC&C called me early the next morning.
.
"Patty, how soon can you pick up this dog? He needs to get out of here today."
.
I was at the shelter in less than an hour.
.
Two kennel workers had to wrangle Chance out of his cage and brought him to me at the end of a slip leash. I am not sure how they accomplished the feat. Everyone just seemed eager to get "Cujo" out of the shelter.
.
I did not dare try to touch or pet Chance who was aggressively baring all six fangs to me. After signing the bite waiver and other paper work, I turned to leave when suddenly Jessica announced that she had a "nice surprise" for me!
.
"Charlotte, the shelter Director is so pleased and grateful that you are taking Chance that she ordered a $200.00 check be sent to you. You should get it in a few days."
.
Shocked beyond belief, I was nearly speechless. I had rescued more than a couple thousand of animals from AC&C over the years and had never been offered a dime to take any.
.
Just how bad was this dog, I wondered nervously?
.
But, instead of voicing concerns, I simply smiled and told Jessica to thank Charlotte for me.
.
Hoping to burn off some of Chance's frustrations and "anger," I walked him the mile and a half home. He was a good little walker on the leash, but also an embarrassment. He had at least a couple of pounds of hard feces stuck to his backside. It looked like he had not been groomed in years.
.
The "story" on Chance is that he had been owned by an elderly person who died. Relatives didn't want him and brought him to the pound. According to them, Chance was good with other animals and that is what primarily mattered to me. That he "didn't like people" could be resolved with time.
.
What I didn't think about then was how I could adopt out a dog with all the "Severe, Aggressive Behavior" and "attempts to bite" on his shelter record even if and when overcoming his behavioral issues? Were Chance to ever bite anyone, I could be sued for knowingly adopting out a "vicious dog."
.
But for those early days, my prime concerns were for cleaning Chance up and over time, getting him used to and comfortable with strangers. I would worry about the other stuff later.
.
As matters turned out, Chance was wonderful with other animals, including cats. He and my Corgi mix, Tina, got along beautifully and were well matched in size, age and energy levels, and even coloring. Tina was however, much friendlier and trusting of people than Chance.
.
I did not try to clean the crap off Chance's rear immediately or to bathe him. Such would have been suicidal. Sure, I got some discerning looks from neighbors in the early days, but I am not one for adding stress to my life or the animals in my care.
.
It was about two weeks before Chance got entirely cleaned up, bathed and brushed. By that time, I had slowly earned his trust in small increments -- enough to allow cutting the stuck poop from his butt in the first few days.
.
Chance was quite handsome when all cleaned and poofed up. He had a very long, dense and luxurious, red coat. Except for his unusually large size for a PB Pomeranian (most are under ten pounds these days), he looked every bit the "expensive" Upper East Side, Manhattan dog....well, except for the extra fangs.
.
But as much as people were drawn to the beautiful little fox-like dog, I sometimes had to warn them to admire from a distance in the early days. (The last thing I wanted was a law suit.) However, once Chance opened his mouth and showed his extra fangs, most people backed off without being told. Vampire Dog.
.
I had Chance a couple of months before finally taking him to my vet to have his extra fangs removed.
.
By that time, he had evolved into a confident and mostly trusting, sweet dog. Long walks in Central Park everyday with his human-friendly companion, Tina, had magically transformed Chance into a whole new dog -- one whom I had grown to deeply love.
.
Any thoughts of "adoption" long flung out the window, I nevertheless still had the perfect excuse of a "horrible shelter record" to offer to others, including my own daughter for keeping Chance. Despite his amazing transformation, my daughter and some friends still didn't quite trust Chance when visiting. I could never understand the caution and "reservations" on their parts for what had really become a very loving and beautifully behaved little dog.
.
Labels like "Vampire Dog" and memories of extra fangs apparently die hard -- even long after the extra fangs are gone.
.
Fast forward, a bunch of years and thousands of long walks in Central Park -- particularly at night.
.
I loved walking Chance and Tina in the park at night and both dogs, though small and "poofy," took their protective and other duties seriously. People often remarked how "well trained" my dogs were, always staying close by me, waiting patiently while I photographed the geese and ducks of Central Park and remaining watchful, but friendly to other people.
.
But I never officially "trained" Chance and Tina. Both dogs were conditioned to a particular routine and lifestyle that they loved, took pride in and looked forward to.
.
Unfortunately, time moves on and dogs age.
.
Tina was a couple of years older than Chance. Though she remained amazingly healthy and spry for her age, eventually it began to catch up to her.
.
The last year of her life, I had to cut out the 2 to 3 mile walks in the park everyday and settle for only a few blocks. Medications helped for a while, but at nearly 21 years of age, Tina's days were numbered.
.
Two years ago, when Tina could no longer walk without pain and her appetite left her, my daughter accompanied me to the Animal Medical Center on Labor Day where the only humane option was euthanasia. Despite the kindness and support of the vet, I was a complete basket case and was lucky to have my daughter, Tara, to literally hold me up.
.
Fortunately, I still had Chance to come home to.
.
Though hurting himself with loss of his long time canine friend, Chance was the brave little trooper for me. Always happy and attentive and looking forward every day to his walks in Central Park.
.
But, as with Tina, age catches up and Chance significantly slowed down over the past year. Long walks were out of the question as he was approaching 20 years of age.
.
Then, last October, I got the brainstorm of purchasing a stroller for him.
.
I ordered a pretty blue stroller from Amazon.com with no idea of whether Chance would adapt to it or not.
.
Fortunately, for both, Chance and me, he not only "adapted" to the stroller, but loved it!
.
Most of all, it enabled both of us to still enjoy the long trips to the park. Chance loved being wheeled around most of the park (like a baby) while still being able to walk the last 7 or 8 blocks home. For me, the experience was like reliving the early days with my daughter when she was a baby. Only the "baby" this time was a senior little dog who was limited in his ability to walk, but still delighted in the park.
.
Some people laugh or even scoff at the idea of treating a dog "like a baby," but sometimes the circumstances merit it. Anything that adds quality and enjoyment for both the dog and caregiver in the animal's waning days is worth it. I trust that one day pushing a senior or disabled dog in a stroller won't seem any more "strange" than taking a dog in a car. I think for dogs, strollers are very much like car rides.
.
But, as the saying goes, all good things eventually come to an end.
.
A few weeks ago, I noticed that Chance was not as animated when taken to the park in his stroller. Instead of sitting up and looking out alertly, Chance was slumped back and appeared listless and uninterested. More alarmingly, he had trouble walking the few blocks home and would fall down a few times.
.
I tried to attribute the "sluggishness" to advancing age, poor vision and the heat of summer.
.
But when his appetite suddenly dropped off and I noticed he was lighter to pick up, I decided it was time for a trip to my vet.
.
Part of me realized I might be compelled to make a painful decision. But I refused to think about that too much.
.
I was sure, Dr. G. would have some magical potion or pills that could help alleviate some of Chance's aches and pains and afford him more months of quality life.
.
What I never considered was that Chance had terminal and quickly descending disease.
.
"Lymphoma" was the lethal and certain diagnosis. And no, there was no magical cure.
.
Dr. G offered that chemotherapy can be an option, but it would only add a "couple of more months" if even that. Neither he nor I thought chemo the appropriate course of action.
.
I stayed with my little boy through the anesthesia and the eventual injection that brought on peaceful and merciful death. But it was so, so hard.
.
Afterwards, I kissed Chance on his still head and said a prayer to God to welcome his beautiful little soul to heaven......
.
It's been almost two weeks since Chance's passing and no, I am not "over it."
.
I am not sure that we ever really "get over" the loss of deeply beloved animal -- an animal who literally becomes as a child to one.
.
It's been nearly two years and I am "not over" the death of Tina. Both, she and Chance live in thousands of memories inside my heart and my head. The loss of both now leaves huge voids and gaps in the center of my soul and in the banality of the everyday.
.
It is only today that I even attempt to write about Chance.
.
But, I prefer to write primarily as he had lived and not how he eventually died.
.
Yes, Chance was the only animal I was ever paid to rescue (so desperate was the shelter to not "euthanize" a healthy, purebred, small dog who no one but a fool would want). And yes, he was the "vampire dog" who mirrored a canine version of Dracula, complete with long, threatening and extra fangs. And yes, Chance's snarling dog photo was the worst I had ever seen.
.
But, underneath all the "severity and attempts to bite" beat a strong, enduring heart of pure gold that though already ten years old at the time of rescue, would continue to lovingly beat for another ten glorious years.
.
Ten years of romps in the snow, walks in the sunshine, endless primping, brushing and making pretty and ten years of seemingly endless love and devotion.
.
My Chance of a lifetime was in fact, one of the great blessings of my life. He was the risk that never for a moment was regretted.
.
I hope that somewhere, Chance is able to find his pal, Tina and that both now freely romp heavenly fields of green grass or glistening snow and infinite blue skies.
.
And like so many days of old, I hope both still patiently wait for me with happy, eager grins on their faces. -- PCA
.
.
.
***********
********
