I wrote this yesterday, before I got the word that my sister and her husband had to put their fifteen year-old Pit, Bailey, to sleep. She was a grand old dame. Bailey loved to be loved, whether it was snuggling under the covers in bed, or getting a “rub” under the kitchen table. She wanted to play with us, and with her younger “sister” Indigo. And she taught us that “Pit Bulls” were dogs first, and shouldn’t automatically mean fear. She loved and was loved, and will be deeply missed.
Under the Stars
Two in the morning: Buddy wants to go out. I hear the persistent gentle pawing on the blanket at the bottom of the bed. Atticus is sleeping in between us; he jumps up. No one wants to miss the middle of the night walk through the campground. No one, of course, except Jenn: she rolls over. I would too, if they would let me sleep. But that isn’t going to happen.
We walk under the stars, down towards Lake Alma here in southeastern Ohio. We’re in the hills, surrounded by miles of forest. As we reach the lakeside, the moon is just rising on the horizon. It’s welcomed by yips and howls, not from Buddy and Atticus, but coyotes on the other side of the small lake.
Buddy must know coyotes from his previous life, and he does not like them. He stops, and turns around and pulls back towards the camper. Atticus isn’t sure what it’s about, but he takes his cue from Buddy. Whatever business we had left to do, it would have to wait until daylight.
Rescue Dogs
Both our dogs, Buddy and Atticus, are rescues. You can’t love dogs any more than ones saved from cruel fate. Buddy was rescued as a pup. We think he’s a border-collie mix, discovered hiding at some construction site. He was adopted out, but was returned to the shelter. He is a herder, and in his youth, if you didn’t go the right way, he would nip you in the butt to re-direct you. The first time out, they couldn’t get him under control.
So when Jenn brought him home (I didn’t have much to do with that) we had some training to do, and adapting ourselves. But Buddy learned from us, and even more from our older Yellow Lab, Dash. When Buddy was two and a half, he was diagnosed with lymphoma. Untreated he had only a few months, and standard treatment might get him a year or so.
Miracle Dog
You never think you’re “that dog owner” that would spend thousands on your dog, until you’re face to face with it. Buddy got surgery, then chemotherapy. His oncologist (you know the cost goes up when you have veterinary oncologist) Dr. Malone modified his treatment, trying something new for his kind of lymphoma. It was a year of chemo, and while Buddy handled it OK, we were more than pleased when the blood tests came back normal, and he could finally stop taking the pill so dangerous we had to handle it with surgical gloves.
That was over three years ago, and Buddy is doing great. His six months blood work is steady and normal. Dr. Malone has made presentations on Buddy’s success, complete with video of him running around in the back yard. When Dash passed away (cancer, nothing we could do) we thought we were going to be a one-dog family. Buddy travelled with us to winter in Florida. He didn’t like the beach, but he was always ready for a long walk down the “jungle trail.” And he was great in “dog bars,” hanging out under the table waiting for a French fry.
At the Shelter
When we got back from Florida, Jenn starting looking at rescues, “just to see.” That’s when we found out about Atticus, a Yellow Lab in the Franklin County (Columbus) shelter. Atticus was picked up in a park in the south part of the county, and after three days, was put on both the rescue list and the euthanasia list. That meant he couldn’t be adopted out because of his illnesses, he had to go to a rescue organization. He had terrible ear infections, and if he wasn’t gone within the week, he was going to be put down.
It didn’t help he looked a lot like a young Dash.
So Jenn wrangled a “branch membership” in the Northeast Ohio Lab Rescue, and we were on the way to the Franklin County Shelter. We didn’t have the “style” of rescuers, and I’m pretty sure the Franklin County people knew what was up. But they let us have him, and we were back to a two-dog family again.
The New Guy
It should be no surprise that Atticus was an expensive dog at first. We had to get his ears cleared up. After a couple weeks of treatments, he discovered he could actually hear, and gave us a quizzical look whenever we spoke.
he woke up at every noise, we think because he was on his own so long, worrying about everything in the woods that might get him. He was scared, worried, and on alert.
It took a while for him to understand what we were saying, but meanwhile, he figured out we were OK. We once read that “…dogs don’t like to be hugged, so don’t do it.” They haven’t met Atticus, from his standoffish demeanor, he became a dog that demanded to be hugged. In fact, he became one of the most loving dogs we’ve had.
And we discovered that his ears were all about allergies. Atticus is allergic to almost everything relating to beef: most dog food, treats, cheese, and dairy. A meat treat was good for three days of scratching, and constantly having to go out.
So we have a dog that eats sweet potato and fish dog food. Oh, and he can have pretty much any other vegetable. And because there’s no way to keep food divided, Buddy has become a sweet potato and fish guy too. And they both are in love with carrots.
We have two miracle dogs: Buddy the cancer survivor, and Atticus who cheated death at the shelter. They are absolutely spoiled, but more importantly, they are absolutely loved. And like most rescues, they are extremely grateful, for their home, their backyard, their place in our king bed; and for our love.
