Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Sarah Nell - Part One

As many of my closest friends can tell you, I probably was a Veterinarian in my former life.If I wasn't, I probably should be in this one. Another career change? I spent years in the field hunting and training dogs. I find with ownership of an animal comes great responsibility. I'm not simply talking about the basics of food, water and shelter. When running dogs in the field, I feel that one must learn what it takes to do everything in their power to treat all forms of injuries. Let me tell you, I have seen the gambit. 

My best English Pointer, Sheen's Elhew Slough (Susie Q or simply Q to me) was such an example. Q came at a point in life where the companionship of a dog meant everything. It still does. I suppose it is the nonjudgmental, compassionate love a dog gives. After three knee injuries due to running in the field hunting quail, I realized that I owed more to her than my selfish hunting endeavors for sport and food. Needless to say, I put my guns down and turned my life towards being a compassionate steward for animals and dogs. As the old saying goes, "I want to be the kind of person my dog thinks I am."

Turn the page by a few years. I was walking back from a dog park in sunny Coconut Grove, Florida. I had four dogs in tow. We must have been a sight to see. Along came a man in a van basically dumping unwanted puppies on unsuspecting people. Those people who couldn't resist a cute puppy. My heart broke. Dumping dogs is a common practice. Low and behold the puppies were English Pointer mixes. Unmistakable. A quick thought ran through my mind: I could take one off his hands and save one, or I could allow him to drive off unknowing the fate of them all. What would you do?

I would take a dog and cross my fingers the rest would not either die on the streets or end up in a kill shelter. Plus, how could I resist the look a gun dog gives... especially as a puppy. There was just one problem. Now what? My crew was already at 4, the county limit, with another one at my parents house. The plan was to take the little puppy to a pet store where a rescue group gathered each Saturday in an attempt to find forever homes for many adoptable dogs.

I had an interview with the rescue group and explained my plight. I guess I had a precedent in the town of knowing a lot about hunting breeds. The rescue group knew of me, those I associated with, and the Veterinarian I trusted all of my dogs' lives to. Our arrangement was simple. I would foster the dog until a suitable adopter could be found. I would take the puppy to the pet store every Saturday until she was adopted out. I could put up with the puppy pee in the condo. At least the puppy would get a home. Her life was spared.

The puppy's first Saturday visit to be adopted out was to be her last with me. I dropped her off and headed out to do errands. One of these errands was to get a new sofa. Having multiple dogs, who are allowed to sleep on the furniture by the way, I decided the old sofa was too far gone to clean and deodorize. Upon my return to pick up the puppy, our little tiny foster pointer grew into a 12 year old 74 pound German Shorthaired Pointer. This wasn't the dog I dropped off! This wasn't the dog I fostered or allowed to pee and poop all over our house.

It was Sarah Nell. This dog was in bad shape. She was over bred, had a nasty infection of some sort affecting her skin, and her right eye was solid blue white from a cataract. She looked like death warmed over. The owner of the rescue group quickly rushed over. "Joe, I know your background. I know you know about the breed. I need your help." Older dogs are not easily adopted out. Adoptions become even more difficult when the dog is in poor health. The rescue group would keep my foster puppy until her adoption if I would take Sarah. Not just as a foster mind you. There was to be no paperwork, no adoption forms or a fee. Simply to spare her life.


Should I do it? I was already at my limit. Could I care for such a dog in need? What were the responsibilities of this? How much time did she have left? Selfishness... Self-centered... I knelt down so that we could stare at each other face-to-face. Sarah was panting and nervous. I gazed into her left good eye. I wondered where she had been, and who was her former owner. I thought about what she must have gone through. I thought she must have been abandoned or a stray for years. I stood up, gave Sarah a scratch on her head. I asked the rescue group to give me until the morning to make arrangements. The rescue group agreed and said that Sarah's Estate handlers would call me first thing in the morning.

Estate?

(to be continued)

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