Recently, I happened upon two caring women in my neighborhood attempting to catch a small, elderly dog walking in the middle of the road. Wanting to help, I pulled my car over and asked, “Does it have a collar and a tag?”
One woman answered, “Yes,” which gave me hope. Identifying tags are crucial in getting lost dogs back home to their families.
I asked, “Are you trying to lure it with a treat?”
“No, but I have one in the house. Should I get one?” She answered.
I said, “Yes, it might help.” While we waited for the biscuit, the little dog was walking at a slow pace away from us. I could see the fear in its posture: tail between its legs, hunched body, and lowered head.
Once armed with a biscuit, I said, “Let me give it a try.” I walked towards the scared dog using that singsong voice all dog mamas use. I tossed a bit of biscuit hoping it would land in front of the dog. A perfect landing.
But the dog paid zero attention to the treat, which made me think fear overrode food. Plan A failed. So, I walked a bit faster, still singsonging. Catching up, I knelt on the road and turned my body sideways, lowering my head and reaching my hand towards the dog. Towering over and facing a fearful dog is a threatening posture.
Success! The dog reached towards my hand to sniff. Slowly and gently, I reached one finger under the collar, hoping this move didn’t spook her. Then, I started caressing her neck. After a minute, I guided her to the side of the road where we sat in the grass. The other women who were watching from afar walked over and thanked me for catching her. I told them not to worry and that I’d take it from there. They were grateful, as they had places to be.
Aware that a fearful dog can bite, I gave her time to get used to me. I talked to her in a soft reassuring voice. I felt sweetgum spiky balls in her fur and worked those out. That had to feel better. Then, I picked her up and walked to my car. Although she allowed my handling her, and seemed less fearful, she was not sure of her situation. Fair enough, I understood.
Her tag identified her as ‘Chloe.’ The phone number had an out of state area code, which gave me pause. But the address shown was in the neighborhood. I left my name and number on voicemail and drove to their house. I didn’t want to go to the door and knock. I decided to wait, hoping for a quick call back. Chloe became much calmer and laid down on my lap.
Soon, her owner called me back. Turns out they were out of town for the day, but their grown daughter was taking care of the house. He had no idea how Chloe got out of her kennel but assured me that his daughter would collect Chloe in about an hour. I told him I would take Chloe to my house until their daughter returned home.
Chloe’s owner mentioned that she is blind and elderly, although he didn’t know her age. Now, I understood why she had no interest in the biscuit; she didn’t see it. He shared that he and his wife adopted her from a kill shelter the day before her D-day. He thanked me graciously for rescuing her.
At my house, we set up an X-pen under the porte-cochere. Chloe was meandering in the pen running into the walls, but it didn’t take her long to acclimate. I sat on a footstool in the pen with her while we waited which helped her settle. She had small sticks and pine needles in her fur, which I pulled out. I noticed her ears were crusty and inflamed, which broke my heart.
Soon, Chloe was feeling better. She started pawing at me and bowing to invite play. She rolled over on the rug, so I rubbed her tiny belly. These behaviors were wonderful to see because it showed that she felt no more fear.
The hour passed, and the owner’s daughter called to say she had returned. We took Chloe to her home. After leaving, I had that empty feeling. You know that feeling when your kids leave the nest? Or, your grandkids go back home after a nice, long visit?
Over the next couple of days, I couldn’t get Chloe off my mind. I had fallen in love with my little Ragamuffin Rescue. I wanted to take her to the groomer and to the vet. But she wasn’t my dog. In the very least, I wanted to suggest to the owners they do the same. But I didn’t want to offend. They loved Chloe. But they weren’t taking the best care of her, in my opinion. Maybe they just didn’t know how. Finally, I decided I had to do something, so, I got up the nerve and texted the owner.
I told him Chloe stole my heart and shared with him how she showed her silly, sweet side after her fear abated. I explained that I’ve done a lot of research over the years on dog health and wellness; including food types. I’m a self-proclaimed food snob.
I confessed to reaching out again because her ears needed attention. And, changing diet might be the key to get her ears in good shape. I apologized for the unsolicited advice and said if he wanted to know more, I’d be happy to share. I held my breath and hoped he would return my text.
He immediately responded, thanking me again for rescuing her and that they would like to learn more. I was delighted with the quick response and that he wasn’t offended. This gave me the confidence to offer advice.
First thing is always diet. We are what we eat. I asked what Chloe eats daily. His answer was a food that, in my humble opinion, is the worst on the market. Super cute television commercials, but the lowest rung of the ladder as far as nutritional value.
Keeping convenience and cost in mind, I did some research for them and made a recommendation. The response I received was that of gratefulness and openness to learning.
I may not be able to have little Chloe in my own pack, but it warmed my heart that her people love her enough to listen and learn.
Chloe, my ragamuffin rescue.