First you must know about Scamp.Originally Posted by slick
Scamp represents one of those times in your life for which you can be thankful that you were the one. I am thankful that I am the one who found Scamp that day.
I was driving down one of those lonely country roads that we have here in North Mississippi, when in the distance I could see something in the road. As I approached, it appeared to be a dog -- a puppy, but I couldn't really tell. As I got closer I could see that whatever it was, it was trotting down the road in my direction. Eventually I came adjacent to it, then passed it, and as I did so I slowed way down and peered out my window at it as I drove by. What is it? What kind of animal is that? Is that a ..., could that be a ..., a dog?
I stopped my truck in the middle of the road, got out, and began to follow it. When I did that that it took off. I followed the little creature, which was no larger than a number 6 shoe size, as it crossed the ditch and into the field on the other side. Soon I was top of it, but as I reached out to grab it, it turned and growled and snapped it jaws. It was a dog! Maybe. Could it be a puppy? Puppies are usually cute and cuddly, and they wag their tails and run to jump into your arms, but this guy -- this guy was snarling and snapping and letting me know with all his soul that he was not interested in wagging his tail or jumping into my arms.
Fortunately I carry dog-catching equipment in my truck, among which is a blanket. I retrieved the blanket and chased back after the dog. Eventually I caught up with it and threw the blanket over it and caught it. It fought and snarled and growled all the way back to the truck. I threw it into the cab of my truck and drove off. I arrived at the vet that very day.
Once again I heard the question: "Whatcha got there, Dan?"
"You tell me!"
"Uh, looks like a rat or a possum or a ..., don't tell me that's a puppy!"
Well, it was a puppy. Although he didn't exactly look canine. He had not one strand of hair, and the skin was sloughing off on nearly every inch of his body. He had what appeared to be warts covering nearly every square inch and his ears where full of crevices. He had open sores and bones showing and ..., well, he was a mess.
The resident technician tried to give him a bath, but he was adamant. He was having none of that. So he was sedated, and he got his bath anyway, and he got some shots and just a good general going over. It was a puppy that had somehow survived on its own out in the middle of absolutely no where. Surely this one was born in the wild, since he seemed to have no appreciation of humans. Maybe I was the first human being he had ever seen.
I knew immediately that I had myself another creature that was going to recquire time and energy and patience -- lots of patience. I took him home with me and put him in one of my bathrooms. The floors in my house are ceramic throughout (good thing!). Every day I put the puppy in the bathtub while I mopped his floor with hot bleach water and changed his bedding. He got fresh bedding every day. He had been de-wormed, but I still gave him half a CC of Ivomec each day along with some good grub. Within a day or two he had calmed down enough to stop growling every time I went into the bathroom.
As each day went by I would observe the pup as I went in to feed him and check on him. For one thing he was so distended with worms that he could not lay on his belly. He always lay on his back. Each day I would bathe him in warm, soapy water with a little bleach. The skin would slough off in waves. The best way I can describe him is "Yoda." Yoda without any hair at all. He was some ugly little creature.
For two weeks he lay in the bathroom, slowly gaining confidence in his surroundings and me. One day I decided to take him out and hold him a while. I took off my shirt and wrapped him in a towel next to my bare chest. His little body was hot. But he no did not growl or snarl. He had stopped trying to bite me. His face began to take on the look of a smile.
Within time I introduced him to the rest of the clan. It took a while, but slowly he began to gain some hair. He would grow, and the hair would appear. And things would disappear. First my house shoes disappeared. Then anything on the floor that wasn't nailed down would disappear. This is where he earned his name: "Scamp." What a scamp he was. Always stealing things.
Scamp would eventually grow up as all pups do. He got over his fear of me, but to this day he runs and hides when a stranger comes for a visit. But at night just before we go to bed, Scamp will waddle up to me, backside swinging back and forth, and he will want to kiss and hug for a few minutes. Then he will go off and find a comfortable place on the floor. In the morning he has to have his sugar before he runs off to play. He and Oscar and Sam and Fred are all great friends. They run and play and fight and fuss. And Scamp? He is and always will be a thief.
Now where are my shoes? It's time to get ready for work.
You can see here where the mange ate away part of Scamp's ear:
Scamp turned into quite a good-looking boy:
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