As us animal folk well know, there are frequent pleas from our local shelter for help with fostering and adoptions. There are always too many innocent creatures looking for a soft place to land. “Help, help, help … code red … out of time ….” These pleas for help always sicken my heart and ensure that my pack stays at no less than six canines, or 24 paws, at any given time. I’ve never understood how a dog is not a family member that you keep with you forever, or however long the dog gods allow; but that is a whole other story.
Often, I try not to look too closely at the postings, knowing how painful they can be, but I do endeavor to at least share the needy babies and coax friends of mine who might be vaguely in the market for a certain breed or other. Social media is excellent for that purpose.
But there he was. Such a pitiful face, big brown eyes, droopy jowls; he looked like he was desperate for love and a second chance at an improved life on this planet. Due to the lack of interest and his medical issues, he was slated for euthanasia, and poor Gina was beside herself. I do not know how she does that job. His skin was raw with mange, and I felt so very sorry and sad for him. Husband had always wanted a Shepherd. I enquired about him and offered to foster him at our home, hoping that that “perfect” home would come along, because I was well over my self-inflicted pup limit.
“Thank you, thank you!” Gina at the rescue was effusive in her gratitude, because she knew what a sweetie he was, regardless of wherever he had come from and how he currently looked. His shelter name was Cooper, but we decided he was a Rufus.
Rufus had obviously lived his previous life as an outdoor dog on an exterior tether (illegal in this state for longer than an hour, but few mind that particular law). When he arrived, he had to learn how to run and play ball at our place. His adoration of his new-found freedom was palpable. He particularly liked the soft tennis balls that he could manipulate in his mouth and carry around. His bottom teeth were worn down from chewing on whatever he could find from the length of his tether, likely from boredom; but certainly, someone in his life had shown him some love, because he craved the pets and the soothing words from humans. His skin was in a horrible condition from untreated mange, flea bites and allergies and that was likely why he was dumped in the city of Greenfield. Bad, bad people.
We tried to find him a loving home, but we couldn’t find one as loving as ours, so we adopted him as our own. Rufus learned very quickly to be a house dog, and it didn’t take long for him to clamber up on my bed and lie on my legs at night. As he gained weight, 100 pounds of fluffy body heat became the norm for me and I very quickly realized that this enormous shepherd had stolen my heart. With his mild manners and non-dominant demeanor, he blended in well with the other pack members, but his people were all to him. No matter where we were, we would find Rufus right there as well. We were his world. And he quickly became a very large part of ours.
I have photos of all my pups up in my house, even going back to my labrador retriever Julie from my childhood, and they securely boast a snug and eternal spot inside of me, some of their cremains even residing in my house on top of my horse’s and llama’s. “Rescue the mistreated, save the injured, love the abandoned.” We live by that.
Rufus’ skin issues took a good while to rectify. From a change in food to regular flea medication to allergy meds and medicated baths; he earned the medal as my most expensive dog. But Rufus by far demanded the most attention because of his long-standing ailments. And then his ears became a consistent problem, and he suffered with regular, debilitating ear infections that frequently took us back down to the local vet in King City. The amazing Dr. V persevered with Rufus’ challenges, and we became quite the team in endeavoring to get him to feel better. Finally, she realized that she was going to have to create a special compound to treat this poor pup and his chronic ear infections. She would need to do a small surgery on him and give his ear canal a really good clean out and then start him on the special meds. I was in awe that such a very busy vet would take all this time on my old shepherd; but make the time she did.
I was nervous the morning of his procedure, because my Rufus is pretty long in the tooth (not young), as they say in England, and had already suffered too much in life. But I was equally determined to make him as comfortable as possible; his suffering needed to be minimal. Dr. V triumphed in her work and Rufus was soon home and feeling much better. Going forward, he needed to be on a regular program of Apoquel, plus a regular flushing protocol, but soon Rufus could be seen strutting his stuff with the others and acting much younger than his 10-12 years … (we don’t actually know!).
I’m so proud of how far we have all come with this adorable old Shepherd. I’m so happy we never found the perfect home for him, because ours was more than perfect and I shall always hold his heart deeply snuggled inside my own. There is something incredibly rewarding about taking responsibility for an innocent life and healing it from the inside out with the help of extremely impressive veterinary skills.
The last time I took Rufus in to see Dr. V, she was effusive in her happiness to see how well he was doing and we both got big hugs. Though I love to visit with Dr. V, I am hoping that Rufus can stay away from her office for a while and simply enjoy his days as one very spoiled and beloved old shepherd, who hopefully remembers little of his old life and lots about the happy life he is leading at Solace.
“It came to me that every time I lose a dog, they take a piece of my heart with them, and every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.” — Anonymous.
Lucy Jensen may be reached at lu*************@***il.com.
