Friday afternoon, just after dark, a large Ford vehicle pulled up near my mailbox. It was odd because they just kept sitting there. I got up and walked toward the door, and I suppose they saw my silhouette through the window because they pulled away. About ten minutes later, chaos erupted on my back porch.
I looked out to find a beautiful, honey-colored, mostly boxer dog. She was so hungry you could see her ribs, and she was looking through the glass door with the most adorable wrinkled brow. I think it was the wrinkled brow that caught me.
I opened the door carefully (strays are always an unknown entity, especially big ones), and poured a scoop full of food into Yelldo's dog dish. She ate it as though she hadn't seen food for a long time and might not ever see it again. She ate so fast she almost choked herself, and I felt an overwhelming sense of hate for anybody who would let an animal be that hungry.
Deciding to take a chance, I stuck a finger through the door. She sniffed and licked very politely. Feeling a little more confident, I put out my whole hand. When I raised it, she flinched and cowered. Again, I felt that anger. Not only had whomever had gutlessly thrown her out starved her, they'd hit her enough to make her shy away from a casual pat.
Four days later, she's got a collar and a name (Britta because she was pitched out on the Waters), she's stopped eating every morsel in the bowl, and she is a wonderful frisky critter with a huge bark and really, really big puppy energy. I still have to take her to the vet, but she's mine, regardless.
I can't believe the callous crappiness of people. Even if someone is having a problem dealing with an animal for some reason, what kind of person takes a defenseless animal and just throws it away? It may not be a kind thought, but I firmly believe there's a special section of Hell for people who abuse animals.
Britta has a home now, and I'll do the best I can by her. My other dog, Yelldo, is in shock. Britta is about three times as large as he is, and the poor baby is more than a little overwhelmed. I'm hoping we all normalize soon. Until then, I will continue to enjoy looking out whatever door I happen to be at and seeing her cute, curious expression peering back at me.
I know what you mean. We live at the back of a dead end road in the country and have (only) 5 dogs at this moment. One, a sweet natured border collie, we picked up at the pound after he was healed from his gunshot wound, but the other 4 were all put-outs. Each the same as Britta, scared but hungrier. I love them all so much.
ReplyDeleteThe place in hell is overpopulated, as one inhabitant is too many. But I'm glad Britta has found you. Some things are meant to be.
Is Yelldo short for yellow dog? Or have I forgotten a hobbit name?
Yelldo is indeed short for Yellow Dog. My parents named him. He wondered up about half-dead right before I came home from Japan. He's a cross between Dachsund and Beagle, so short, cute, long, and wiggly.
ReplyDeleteHe's not adjusting to the giant horse-dog invasion so well. I hope that as time goes by they will become friends.