Yesterday we got "Yet Another Stray" officially named into the family. He's been in the works for about two weeks now. I picked him up at the vet, minus about 300 ticks and his knackers, and plus a pound or so. He also was packed with hope. It was a bonus.
His story begins two Sundays back, when the family unit (minus the eldest child) was attempting to take me out for Mother's Day brunch. As many of our holiday observances work, it was not Mother's Day. However, eldest child had already co-opted the actual Mother's Day for her own nefarious purposes, so I got an alternate date.
My husband loves to take the scenic route, so we buzzed along the back roads in the Big Truck, a a 1999 Ford F350. As we bounced along, I did what I always do: Referee'd the non-stop backseat argument, and tried to make pleasant conversation/argued with my husband, while simultaneously looking out the window and windshield.
But this time, something new appeared in the pattern - a small red animal object.
I processed the anomaly, and noted to my husband that this was clearly a miniature dachshund, a lap dog, and in no way was he where he belonged. We were in the middle of some logged out land - not a driveway to be seen for a mile or two either direction.
We stopped and turned around.
We pulled up to him, and he just sat there, as pitiful as could be. One of his brown button eyes was obscured with an enormous bloated tick. As I got closer, I could see that dozens of ticks were covering his ears, his throat... His neck was swollen, torn and bleeding from scratching, and he was nothing but bones. He had obviously been out in the woods for weeks. I am not normally hit with emotion when I'm handling animals, but my empathy kicked in big time. It is not something I have any control over. Suddenly, I swapped places with him in my mind, and it was not a good place to be. Waves of fear swamped me.
I managed to put channel one back online. It took a minute or so, and some breathing.
Well, I thought, we can't have this going on any longer. He's either got to get help to live, or to put him out of this miserable situation. I felt panicky, because all the different scenarios started to play in the background channels. As I gently touched his small head, he sat there and just looked at me. He was unafraid, and not aggressive. He knew he needed help, and he was hoping we were it. Animals possess hope, as far as I can tell. I know this because I've seen them lose it.
The lucky stars were certainly aligned for him. My husband and I are both unable to pass a needy beast (this can include homo sapiens...). Right now, we have 3 abandoned cats and a Walmart dog currently in inventory. No needy people lately, though.
I looked at my husband, he looked at me. I heard myself say "go home and get a kennel, we need to help this guy". I called my best friend, who knows about animals, and she can figure out where I keep things. She was able to figure out where I had the kennel, a necessary prerequisite for this operation. And off he went to get it.
As I watched the truck drive away, I petted the doggie on the head. I pulled off some ticks the size and shape of kidney beans. I fretted about catching rabies and Lyme disease.
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