tomkatzid
01-25-2003, 07:32 PM
'Rasta Dog' finds a home
Published: January 22, 2003
Winston, freshly shorn, snuggles with Steve Huddleston at Huddleston's Sunriver-area home. Huddleston and several other Central Oregon Community College employees left food out for Winston, who refused affection and evaded capture while living on the college's Bend campus.
Pete Erickson / The Bulletin
By Heidi Hagemeier
The Bulletin
Steve Huddleston chuckles heartily recalling his colleague's first encounter with the unofficial mascot of Bend's Central Oregon Community College (COCC) campus.
The big-city newcomer came tearing inside, out of breath, frazzled and shaken. "There's a bear outside the building!" he exclaimed.
"A bear?" Huddleston asked. "Do you mean the poodle?"
It's almost understandable why the fellow would think he came face to muzzle with Ursus americanus. The creature, standing 3 feet tall, had a black button nose poking out of mounds and mounds of coarse, matted charcoal gray hair.
Instead, this hairy beast was an ungroomed standard poodle who had adopted the COCC campus as home.
The dog, known as Little Buddy among staff and Rasta Dog among students for his massive dreadlocks, slept for years under an awning at the COCC Bookstore. Neither students nor other dogs phased him, although he didn't want to socialize with them, either.
Little Buddy never allowed people to approach him and, until last week, evaded capture for two and a half years.
Now, the peculiar poodle who slept outside in the pouring rain and powder snow is shorn, well fed and about to go to a good home.
"He wants to be someone's dog again," Huddleston said, scratching the surprisingly docile pup nuzzling against him.
Huddleston, veterinarian Byron Maas and others captured the dog last week after years of trying.
They took the pooch to Central Oregon Animal Hospital, where a groomer removed pounds of hair, since poodles don't shed. The dog, now named Winston, weighed 54 pounds before grooming and 44 pounds immediately after.
Maas performed a thorough checkup and declared that, despite going for more than two years without attention, the dog was in good health.
"This is probably one of the worst breeds of dogs to go wild because they require so much care," Maas said. "The dry climate helped him. In another climate, he would have been just a mess."
No one knows how Winston's sojourn on campus began. Perhaps abandoned, he appeared at COCC with a recently clipped coat and a collar without tags.
Maas believes Winston is a purebred poodle that is 3- to 5-years-old. Huddleston said staff spotted him roaming anywhere between Newport Ave. Market and Shevlin Park. He first saw the pooch shivering under a tree in the rain.
"I fell in love with him from day one," he said.
So Huddleston began putting a bowl of food out for him. Eventually, COCC staff chipped in for a bed, a heated water pail and food for the dog. They put the bed near the bookstore and placed a hay bale in front of it to shield the wind.
At first, people tried to tempt the poodle to come closer with treats. The pooch refused.
"I tried many, many times to get him to come to me, and he never would," said Lori Willis, who saw the canine daily as manager of the bookstore.
COCC put ads in the newspaper and called the humane societies. Nobody came forward seeking the dog.
That is when COCC staff started a cat-and-mouse game with Winston, with the poodle winning each round.
"He's smart, one of the smartest dogs I've ever come across," Huddleston said.
Animal control officials brought out large traps designed for bears in which the gate closes when the animals seeks the food inside. Winston never took the bait.
Then, veterinarians made three separate attempts at drugging Winston's food. They thought if the dog became groggy enough, they could get a leash on him.
Maas said despite fairly high doses, Winston bolted away each time.
"We think he just had so much adrenaline going that he would have enough energy to escape," Huddleston said. "After the third attempt, we were so frustrated and disappointed that we decided not to do this again."
Then COCC staff sought special permission from the city of Bend to fire a dart gun to tranquilize the dog. City staff denied the request, citing statutes against using firearms in city limits.
So COCC staff and students became accustomed to Winston's presence. Huddleston or Willis yelled "Little Buddy!" each morning, and the dog trotted down the campus slopes to receive his daily meal.
The routine went on for more than a year. Winston slept under bushes around campus and observed the bustle around him.
All the while, his hair grew, becoming matted and tangled. The poodle looked like a Sasquatch using four legs.
The dog's movement became stiff. He began bumping into trees. And he likely was nearly blind with all the fur in his eyes.
"His health was definitely going downhill," Huddleston said. "It motivated us to try again."
This time, Maas used a stiff drug cocktail on the dog's meal. It never knocked Winston out, but it sedated him to the point that finally they leashed him, loaded him into a truck and took him to Central Oregon Animal Hospital.
Maas expressed amazement at the dog's condition. Winston was underweight, which the veterinarian expected given the amount of calories the poodle must have burned to stay warm. But he had no parasites, fleas or problems with moisture trapped against his skin by the hair.
After neutering the dog and imbedding a locating microchip in his skin, the group waited to meet the new Winston.
"It totally surprised everyone, I think," Maas said.
Instead of a timid or hysterical dog, they met a pooch who rests his head on people's laps, who nudges hands asking for affection, and who waits dutifully at the door when he needs to go out.
"He was a bit scared, but I think he realized he was being cared for," Maas said. "He was much more mellow than on campus."
Recently at Huddleston's home, Winston greeted strangers calmly but warmly. He didn't bark. He enjoyed a stroll on a leash.
He was in every way a perfect pet.
Huddleston said fear explains the dog's behavior on campus.
"I think it was survival — he was out on his own," Huddleston said.
Since Winston's capture, a campus-wide e-mail has drawn contributions from students and staff of dog supplies and cash for medical bills. Mare Shey, a local dog trainer, even plans to provide some free training.
And on Saturday, Winston will finally find a new home. Huddleston can't keep the dog, but Willis, the bookstore manager, will take him home to meet his new friends — her husband, two young girls and their Labrador named Cinder.
Willis said her girls, ages 8 and 10, are excited to have a new companion to love.
Published: January 22, 2003
Winston, freshly shorn, snuggles with Steve Huddleston at Huddleston's Sunriver-area home. Huddleston and several other Central Oregon Community College employees left food out for Winston, who refused affection and evaded capture while living on the college's Bend campus.
Pete Erickson / The Bulletin
By Heidi Hagemeier
The Bulletin
Steve Huddleston chuckles heartily recalling his colleague's first encounter with the unofficial mascot of Bend's Central Oregon Community College (COCC) campus.
The big-city newcomer came tearing inside, out of breath, frazzled and shaken. "There's a bear outside the building!" he exclaimed.
"A bear?" Huddleston asked. "Do you mean the poodle?"
It's almost understandable why the fellow would think he came face to muzzle with Ursus americanus. The creature, standing 3 feet tall, had a black button nose poking out of mounds and mounds of coarse, matted charcoal gray hair.
Instead, this hairy beast was an ungroomed standard poodle who had adopted the COCC campus as home.
The dog, known as Little Buddy among staff and Rasta Dog among students for his massive dreadlocks, slept for years under an awning at the COCC Bookstore. Neither students nor other dogs phased him, although he didn't want to socialize with them, either.
Little Buddy never allowed people to approach him and, until last week, evaded capture for two and a half years.
Now, the peculiar poodle who slept outside in the pouring rain and powder snow is shorn, well fed and about to go to a good home.
"He wants to be someone's dog again," Huddleston said, scratching the surprisingly docile pup nuzzling against him.
Huddleston, veterinarian Byron Maas and others captured the dog last week after years of trying.
They took the pooch to Central Oregon Animal Hospital, where a groomer removed pounds of hair, since poodles don't shed. The dog, now named Winston, weighed 54 pounds before grooming and 44 pounds immediately after.
Maas performed a thorough checkup and declared that, despite going for more than two years without attention, the dog was in good health.
"This is probably one of the worst breeds of dogs to go wild because they require so much care," Maas said. "The dry climate helped him. In another climate, he would have been just a mess."
No one knows how Winston's sojourn on campus began. Perhaps abandoned, he appeared at COCC with a recently clipped coat and a collar without tags.
Maas believes Winston is a purebred poodle that is 3- to 5-years-old. Huddleston said staff spotted him roaming anywhere between Newport Ave. Market and Shevlin Park. He first saw the pooch shivering under a tree in the rain.
"I fell in love with him from day one," he said.
So Huddleston began putting a bowl of food out for him. Eventually, COCC staff chipped in for a bed, a heated water pail and food for the dog. They put the bed near the bookstore and placed a hay bale in front of it to shield the wind.
At first, people tried to tempt the poodle to come closer with treats. The pooch refused.
"I tried many, many times to get him to come to me, and he never would," said Lori Willis, who saw the canine daily as manager of the bookstore.
COCC put ads in the newspaper and called the humane societies. Nobody came forward seeking the dog.
That is when COCC staff started a cat-and-mouse game with Winston, with the poodle winning each round.
"He's smart, one of the smartest dogs I've ever come across," Huddleston said.
Animal control officials brought out large traps designed for bears in which the gate closes when the animals seeks the food inside. Winston never took the bait.
Then, veterinarians made three separate attempts at drugging Winston's food. They thought if the dog became groggy enough, they could get a leash on him.
Maas said despite fairly high doses, Winston bolted away each time.
"We think he just had so much adrenaline going that he would have enough energy to escape," Huddleston said. "After the third attempt, we were so frustrated and disappointed that we decided not to do this again."
Then COCC staff sought special permission from the city of Bend to fire a dart gun to tranquilize the dog. City staff denied the request, citing statutes against using firearms in city limits.
So COCC staff and students became accustomed to Winston's presence. Huddleston or Willis yelled "Little Buddy!" each morning, and the dog trotted down the campus slopes to receive his daily meal.
The routine went on for more than a year. Winston slept under bushes around campus and observed the bustle around him.
All the while, his hair grew, becoming matted and tangled. The poodle looked like a Sasquatch using four legs.
The dog's movement became stiff. He began bumping into trees. And he likely was nearly blind with all the fur in his eyes.
"His health was definitely going downhill," Huddleston said. "It motivated us to try again."
This time, Maas used a stiff drug cocktail on the dog's meal. It never knocked Winston out, but it sedated him to the point that finally they leashed him, loaded him into a truck and took him to Central Oregon Animal Hospital.
Maas expressed amazement at the dog's condition. Winston was underweight, which the veterinarian expected given the amount of calories the poodle must have burned to stay warm. But he had no parasites, fleas or problems with moisture trapped against his skin by the hair.
After neutering the dog and imbedding a locating microchip in his skin, the group waited to meet the new Winston.
"It totally surprised everyone, I think," Maas said.
Instead of a timid or hysterical dog, they met a pooch who rests his head on people's laps, who nudges hands asking for affection, and who waits dutifully at the door when he needs to go out.
"He was a bit scared, but I think he realized he was being cared for," Maas said. "He was much more mellow than on campus."
Recently at Huddleston's home, Winston greeted strangers calmly but warmly. He didn't bark. He enjoyed a stroll on a leash.
He was in every way a perfect pet.
Huddleston said fear explains the dog's behavior on campus.
"I think it was survival — he was out on his own," Huddleston said.
Since Winston's capture, a campus-wide e-mail has drawn contributions from students and staff of dog supplies and cash for medical bills. Mare Shey, a local dog trainer, even plans to provide some free training.
And on Saturday, Winston will finally find a new home. Huddleston can't keep the dog, but Willis, the bookstore manager, will take him home to meet his new friends — her husband, two young girls and their Labrador named Cinder.
Willis said her girls, ages 8 and 10, are excited to have a new companion to love.