delidog
12-29-2002, 08:37 PM
Here is a litlle Story that was sent to me by a Great Dane Rescue Group:
Sudilar and Fuzzy317 ...I thought of you guys frist!!!!!!
Enjoy!!!
"My Foster Dog is Beautiful"
My foster dog stinks to high heaven. I don't know for sure what breed
he is.
His eyes are blank and hard. He won't let me pet him and growls when I
reach
for him. He has ragged scars and crusty sores on his skin. His nails
are
long and his teeth which he showed me are stained. I sigh. I drove two
hours
for this. I carefully maneuver him so that I can stuff him in the
crate.
Then I heft the crate and put it in the car. I am going home with my
new
foster dog.
At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the
yard. I
get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants 'outside.' As I lead
him to
the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me his stained teeth
again.
When we come in he goes to the crate because that's the only safe
place he
sees. I offer him food but he won't eat it if I look at him, so I turn
my
back. When I come back the food is gone. I ask again about 'outside.'
When
we come back I pat him before I let him in the crate, he jerks away
and runs
into the crate to show me his teeth.
The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer I lead him
into the
bath with cheese in my hand. His fear of me is not quite overcome by
his
wish for the cheese. And well he should fear me, for I will give him a
bath.
After an attempt or two to bail out he is defeated and stands there. I
have
bathed four legged bath squirters for more dog years than he has been
alive.
His only defense was a show of his stained teeth that did not hold up
to a
face full of water. As I wash him it is almost as if I wash not only
the
stink and dirt away but also some of his hardness. His eyes look full
of
sadness now. And he looks completely pitiful as only a soap covered
dog can.
I tell him that he will feel better when he is cleaned. After the soap
the
towels are not too bad so he lets me rub him dry. I take him outside.
He
runs for joy. The joy of not being in the tub and the joy of being
clean. I,
the bath giver, am allowed to share the joy. He comes to me and lets
me pet
him.
One week later I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for me
to
pet him. I think I know what color he will be when his hair grows in.
I have
found out he is terrified of other dogs. So I carefully introduce him
to my
mildest four legged brat. It doesn't go well.
Two weeks later a new vet bill for an infection that was missed on the
first
visit. He plays with the other dogs.
Three weeks later he asks to be petted. He chewed up part of the rug.
Eight weeks later his coat shines, he has gained weight. He shows his
clean
teeth when his tongue lolls out after he plays chase in the yard with
the
gang. His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs and likes
to
show off his tricks, if you have the cheese.
Someone called today and asked about him, they saw the picture I took
the
first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his breed.
They
asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions. I checked up
on
them. I prayed. I said yes. When they saw him the first time they said
he
was the most beautiful dog they had ever seen.
Six months later I got a call from his new family. He is wonderful,
smart,
well behaved and very loving. How could someone not want him?
I told them I didn't know.
He is beautiful.
They all are. "
Written by:
Martha O'Connor
Sudilar and Fuzzy317 ...I thought of you guys frist!!!!!!
Enjoy!!!
"My Foster Dog is Beautiful"
My foster dog stinks to high heaven. I don't know for sure what breed
he is.
His eyes are blank and hard. He won't let me pet him and growls when I
reach
for him. He has ragged scars and crusty sores on his skin. His nails
are
long and his teeth which he showed me are stained. I sigh. I drove two
hours
for this. I carefully maneuver him so that I can stuff him in the
crate.
Then I heft the crate and put it in the car. I am going home with my
new
foster dog.
At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the
yard. I
get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants 'outside.' As I lead
him to
the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me his stained teeth
again.
When we come in he goes to the crate because that's the only safe
place he
sees. I offer him food but he won't eat it if I look at him, so I turn
my
back. When I come back the food is gone. I ask again about 'outside.'
When
we come back I pat him before I let him in the crate, he jerks away
and runs
into the crate to show me his teeth.
The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer I lead him
into the
bath with cheese in my hand. His fear of me is not quite overcome by
his
wish for the cheese. And well he should fear me, for I will give him a
bath.
After an attempt or two to bail out he is defeated and stands there. I
have
bathed four legged bath squirters for more dog years than he has been
alive.
His only defense was a show of his stained teeth that did not hold up
to a
face full of water. As I wash him it is almost as if I wash not only
the
stink and dirt away but also some of his hardness. His eyes look full
of
sadness now. And he looks completely pitiful as only a soap covered
dog can.
I tell him that he will feel better when he is cleaned. After the soap
the
towels are not too bad so he lets me rub him dry. I take him outside.
He
runs for joy. The joy of not being in the tub and the joy of being
clean. I,
the bath giver, am allowed to share the joy. He comes to me and lets
me pet
him.
One week later I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for me
to
pet him. I think I know what color he will be when his hair grows in.
I have
found out he is terrified of other dogs. So I carefully introduce him
to my
mildest four legged brat. It doesn't go well.
Two weeks later a new vet bill for an infection that was missed on the
first
visit. He plays with the other dogs.
Three weeks later he asks to be petted. He chewed up part of the rug.
Eight weeks later his coat shines, he has gained weight. He shows his
clean
teeth when his tongue lolls out after he plays chase in the yard with
the
gang. His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs and likes
to
show off his tricks, if you have the cheese.
Someone called today and asked about him, they saw the picture I took
the
first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his breed.
They
asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions. I checked up
on
them. I prayed. I said yes. When they saw him the first time they said
he
was the most beautiful dog they had ever seen.
Six months later I got a call from his new family. He is wonderful,
smart,
well behaved and very loving. How could someone not want him?
I told them I didn't know.
He is beautiful.
They all are. "
Written by:
Martha O'Connor